"repels" poems
I'm running
running on empty
I spent last night, awake
couldn't sleep, couldn't feel
can't seem to feel these days, anyways
I'm running
running on empty
can't seem to eat
not that hungry it seems
food repels me nowadays
I'm running
running on empty
can't seem to concentrate
can't seem to stay awake
can't seem to feel
I keep on running
almost at 2 miles
just keep running
focus
i'm fine
I'm always fine
Not hungry
not feeling
just running
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 9:13 AM UTC
The momment I realized
facebook
was a pokedex for people
Was the moment I realized
I don't want to catch them all.
Some pokemon aren't worth the trouble.
Let alone making it double.
Abra for instance,
I understand you like spooning
but if you're going to teleport
every time I throw the Pokeball,
maybe it's best you stay in the cave.
cubone:
Did you ever think maybe,
wearing the skull
of your dead mother
for protection
might mean
you have some serious family baggage?
Pidgey:
I shouldn't have to keep buying repels
to keep you away.
If I stroll through the tall grass
You appear every five minutes
Without realizing I AM IGNORING YOU.
Perhaps you should wait
until I throw another ball.
I'm trying
to catch different pokemon right now
Who fit my team better
Have the Nature I want.
You had your chance
to be in my party
When I fed you that Razz berry
threw the first ball.
Caught you.
then you Evolved
into this big mouthed Golbat
About to swallow me whole.
Trainers.
Stop spending time on toxic pokemon
Poisen types, koffing and wheezing.
Psychic types that play you puppet.
Don't throw the ball to them
Let their grass rustle.
Walk on by
I'm transfering mine in for candies
Catching Shinies
legendaries whom there are only one of in this world.
I stopped trying to catch them all.
I'm searching the high ground
taking time to look at their move set
Running around town with them.
We'll EV train each other,
Get every badge together.
BEAT THE ELITE FOUR
Get knocked down
Go to the pokecenter
Do, do, dodo DO!
Get right back up, together.
Because it's not about catching them all.
It's about healing the ones that you have.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
It's there and I can feel it
I want to reach it but I can't.
I hear it in my speech, I see it in my dreams,
I smell it in the air and I feel it in my veins.
I see it in the eyes of creatures,
I feel it from still and tidal waters,
I even inhale it from all the green that surround us.
I feel it through words that are spoken
And I see it within those that are written,
I hear its melodies, sweet sounds of a silent night
Serenading in a foreign dialect.
It makes me feel whole though it chills me right to the bone
My heart wants to but my mind doesn't,
My mind wants to understand but my heart is too afraid to comprehend
I know what it is yet I can't tell what it is.
Still trying to reach out to it but I seem not to reach it
Part of me wants it while the other doesn't
The me within me wants it
But the me outside of me repels it.
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 5:11 AM UTC
O Fair and stately maid, whose eye
Was kindled in the upper sky
At the same torch that lighted mine;
For so I must interpret still
Thy sweet dominion o'er my will,
A sympathy divine.
Ah! let me blameless gaze upon
Features that seem in heart my own,
Nor fear those watchful sentinels
Which charm the more their glance forbids,
Chaste glowing underneath their lids
With fire that draws while it repels.
Thine eyes still shined for me, though far
I lonely roved the land or sea,
As I behold yon evening star,
Which yet beholds not me.
This morn I climbed the misty hill,
And roamed the pastures through;
How danced thy form before my path,
Amidst the deep-eyed dew!
When the red bird spread his sable wing,
And showed his side of flame,
When the rose-bud ripened to the rose,
In both I read thy name.
2.9k
XXXIX
Because thou hast the power and own’st the grace
To look through and behind this mask of me
(Against which years have beat thus blanchingly
With their rains), and behold my soul’s true face,
The dim and weary witness of life’s race,—
Because thou hast the faith and love to see,
Through that same soul’s distracting lethargy,
The patient angel waiting for a place
In the new Heavens,—because nor sin nor woe,
Nor God’s infliction, nor death’s neighborhood,
Nor all which others viewing, turn to go,
Nor all which makes me tired of all, self-viewed,—
Nothing repels thee, . . . Dearest, teach me so
To pour out gratitude, as thou dost, good!
2.4k
An Old Story
I
It was roses, roses, all the way,
With myrtle mixed in my path like mad.
The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway,
The church-spires flamed, such flags they had,
A year ago on this very day!
II
The air broke into a mist with bells,
The old walls rocked with the crowds and cries.
Had I said, “Good folks, mere noise repels—
But give me your sun from yonder skies!”
They had answered, “And afterward, what else?”
III
Alack, it was I who leaped at the sun,
To give it my loving friends to keep.
Nought man could do have I left undone,
And you see my harvest, what I reap
This very day, now a year is run.
IV
There’s nobody on the house-tops now—
Just a palsied few at the windows set—
For the best of the sight is, all allow,
At the Shambles’ Gate—or, better yet,
By the very scaffold’s foot, I trow.
V
I go in the rain, and, more than needs,
A rope cuts both my wrists behind,
And I think, by the feel, my forehead bleeds,
For they fling, whoever has a mind,
Stones at me for my year’s misdeeds.
VI
Thus I entered Brescia, and thus I go!
In such triumphs, people have dropped down dead.
“Thou, paid by the World,—what dost thou owe
Me?” God might have questioned; but now instead
’Tis God shall requite! I am safer so.
2.3k
If all a top physicist knows
About the Truth be true,
Then, for all the so-and-so's,
Futility and grime,
Our common world contains,
We have a better time
Than the Greater Nebulae do,
Or the atoms in our brains.
Marriage is rarely bliss
But, surely it would be worse
As particles to pelt
At thousands of miles per sec
About a universe
Wherein a lover's kiss
Would either not be felt
Or break the loved one's neck.
Though the face at which I stare
While shaving it be cruel
For, year after year, it repels
An ageing suitor, it has,
Thank God, sufficient mass
To be altogether there,
Not an indeterminate gruel
Which is partly somewhere else.
Our eyes prefer to suppose
That a habitable place
Has a geocentric view,
That architects enclose
A quiet Euclidian space:
Exploded myths - but who
Could feel at home astraddle
An ever expanding saddle?
This passion of our kind
For the process of finding out
Is a fact one can hardly doubt,
But I would rejoice in it more
If I knew more clearly what
We wanted the knowledge for,
Felt certain still that the mind
Is free to know or not.
It has chosen once, it seems,
And whether our concern
For magnitude's extremes
Really become a creature
Who comes in a median size,
Or politicizing Nature
Be altogether wise,
Is something we shall learn.
2.3k
High school nightmares
of
being everybody's spit catcher.
A real life
idiot
magnet
that attracts
nothing,
but,
negative
forces.
If you've ever felt like everything good repels away from you
& that you can only attract the bad.
Welcome to The Love Cult.
We are:
The kids that ate
their brown-bag
lunches
in one stall
then
purged
in the next.
Cause we were afraid of being labeled with bad brand names.
If you were the
kid in gym class,
that
no one wanted on
their team.
If you have ever felt
alone,
tortured,
abused
and abandoned.
When the only thing you can
do
to
suppress those suicide dreams
is
to use your body
as a make shift
punching bag.
Just remember,
There is a
big *** & beautiful
cuddle
puddle
that will hug you
& love you.
No matter
what anybody has said
about you.
We know that
you're something special.
I believe you're going to be okay,
someday sooner
than you think.
It's a nice thought you need to
Dig
Dig
Dig it, deep into your brain.
Hello.
I'm Bandit & I'd like to invite you to
my family of passionate & loving friends.
We go by
The
Love
Cult.
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 1:49 PM UTC
Women Stereotypes
10w40
This is so popular, proven to have high performance even if it is synthetic. That does not make any sense realistically. It strokes engines brilliantly. The most expensive even on sale. It does not deter dirt.
3 in 1
The lubricant can be trusted the fact that it dries quicker, penetrating the stuck locks as well preventing further corrosion.
Exotic Graphite
As exotic as graphite is, it does a good job by providing a long lasting lubrication. It repels water too! It’s cheaper that the rest and it extends life. It makes a proper logic economically. You pay less but get more!
Lubricant Affordability
3in1 and graphite deter dust and are cheaper than 10W40.
Does that make you more ambivalent?... ;0)
Anticlimax lubricant ambivalence has reached it’s ******
Armed downhill by the rusted adjusted shielded knight.
Pasted in exquisite oil, no distaste or aftertaste.
Dunked in abluent..........Dented but affluent!
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 5:12 PM UTC
dear immoral,
salt
seed of
s
la
ughter
enticingly, affably, salt
compassionate psychic stimulates
the pigheaded exclamation
compassionate osculation stands
glove
gives callously
equally, nonetheless, equally
quarrelsome loving glove
a persnickety longshoreman
each persnickety biochemistry
is the
longshoreman cancerous?
A ambiguous certification
a stupid symphony
leads a wizardry
a road worker.
No content,
j
us
t web,
you
r bright face
is suffered with an imagery.
Bridge operator:
agile
computation
today, randomly ordinarily
ah! A
trembling
je
we
ler
confidant loves increasingly
languidly, sociably, spontaneously
Look! A poor ***********
perpetual on my
quick
bible;
my psychotherapy roves
into a
bleeding seashore.
Oxygen
tickles beautifully
boisterous, antisocial, odorous
Look! A quivering predisposition
the
psychoanalysis's
preferably quick
psych
otherapy-
how
ebbing it is!
It has the the depression snowed ordinarily.
It repels the grin into the seashore
a
punishing scream.
Cataclysm predicts perfectly
stupidly sensually noncommittal
unchanging rambling cataclysm
in t
he
unharnessing camaraderie
a perfect board
overshadows
his youth
so
that it is contemporary
grin
quick psychotherapies
I repel quick
this punishing kennel.
The chore
into appreciated camaraderies
psychotherapies rove in it.
A ink stick:
into appreciated ca
mar
aderies
psychotherapies rove in
my own gossip.
Dogmatic, unrealistic cliff
grip
of firefly
realistically, subtly, cliff
Situationist
on my quick bible;
my paralysis roves
onto a crazy seashore.
Situationist on a
journey;
my
paralysis ambles
onto a
crazy hotel.
A equality
onto procreation kings
paralys
is
amble outside of the kings.
Buzzard: omnipotent nullification
extraordinarily, perfectly, saintly
that buzzard is ambitious
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 12:12 PM UTC
Bring about a second war,
or pack up - and go home.
We can't accept apologies
from Sicily or Rome.
We can't impart cartography
to mayors without maps.
And no one wades the rivers here,
and water fills the cracks.
And water, liquid power naps,
repels us at the coast,
But draws us in at pipeline ends
and haunts us like Dad's ghost.
I died sometime, the future came,
and everybody smirked
and asked me, while we waited
for my casket, if it hurt.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
Dear Venus of my Heart,
The Solstice of blue, once flourishing with fiery flowers red, the petals of our garden froze. The chimney of our cabin of dreams, ambitious as Alexander's attainments, pops with the fog of the remnants of heat. We used to defy the now frozen roaring raging river of time and drink from the abstract notion of forever. For me, it felt like years embracing the elation of our entangled hearts, despite the days that went by. But reality is a grey mirror, and, in a hoard of wretched ways, I wronged you. Our Ecstasy, even extremely enlivening, was fleeting in behalf of my secret despair.
Imagine I a long-lasting love, a motto that guards me of any break. An unpierceable vowel, a couple for life, to live like lions loyal, bold and courageous yet entwined. So, to pour my emotions akin to the biblical flood and undergo an Ophelia, or even a Mimì, to subversion it distresses me. The motivations of mine may map me as an adamant, but I am a romantic, a believer of one true love. I just worry my machine shall yield to the snap of the edge and the ever yearly youthful yearning of restless consummation repels me. While passion is the feeling of the flesh, love is the feeling of the soul; one mate shall be fate. And my soul longs for you in spite of the lonely length that loosens our bonds.
Thus, out of my outrageous offense, I repent. I lament my vanity, this vividly voracious scruple of kissing way before and tragically after the priest's last words without a care for the bride. I apologize for this erroneous early enamor and the ceaseless insistence to the raw departure, leaving echoes of you in pictures of us. But now alas is time for my final parting, to let go because move on I shall. Heart breaks for heart's sake.
Forever and always,
H
PS: The fog shrouded our cabin of dreams. I feared going back to our place. But doubt no longer clouds my view, so I cleared the mist. Still, the chimney's black stains cannot be cleaned. Hope for this house rests on its grave. However, a new home is just around the corner. It is up to you to build it with me. I will be waiting.
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 3:22 PM UTC
I sit down
I put on headphones
I think about what they meant by "rubber soul"
My soul is not rubber
Rubber repels
Rubber rejects
Nothing sticks to rubber.
Things stick to my soul
People stick to my soul
Ideas stick to my soul
Places stick to my soul
And they change it
They shape it
Maybe my soul is clay
Moldable
Flexible
Soft yet sturdy
Sticky.
Clay
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
My daily facade is growing old,
But my spirit must not show it.
Weakness only attracts them more,
Indifference repels it.
They are the hyenas,
In my kingdom of prey.
One false move I die,
One false move they say.
I've built up my walls,
I've put on my armor.
But it only does little,
To cease all the clamor.
The truth is I'm scared,
But not eager to say so.
Now keep your distance,
Before you're 6ft below.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 5:45 AM UTC
I've been at war for a long time now
with the girl inside of me
She's smart and witty
and skinny and beautiful
and compassionate and kind
and trapped in the depths
of my empty stomach
and super-glued heart
as if I accidentally stuck her
to one of the pieces
chipped away
by a boy who couldn't see her
Her outer shell is hard
and average-looking
with chunks of fat
in all the wrong places
and it repels sadness
and emits an uncaring aura
that no one wants to touch
That shell is bulletproof
in all places except for one
but this inner angel
is not quite skinny
or clever enough
to escape through the jagged edges
and paint her shell
with her favorite color
Maybe she's been locked inside
her black stone well
for so long
that she no longer
has the will
to try
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
Oh, why give credence to the speechful lass
who judges sanity among the two
admirers differently, one fail, one pass,
and take to heart the failure judged in you?
Why question why--when both have done the same
exact deed with no difference in the act--
should you be deemed a nuisance and insane,
and he a hero, opposite of fact?
"He stares at me, this stalker and a creep,"
says she of your mere passing little glance.
"That staring handsome hunk I think I'll keep,"
she coos, his eyes ********** her in dance.
Attraction makes acceptable the deed
that otherwise repels the heart in need.
(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 8:49 PM UTC
so well choreographed the performance
spectacular shapes they perfectly make
soaring up then dipping down this sky dance
synchronized on a collective feather's take
outstanding describes every single formation
orchestrated with an amazing flight's wing
over the countryside you'll see the murmuration
on staying together it repels a falcon's ping
utilizing the waving motion's code of sway
unbalancing any hungry prey by such skill
utmost this inventive pattern's display
undulations devised in an expert drill
the ballet on high is ever so terrific
trooped starlings cleverly will bluff
they'll outsmart predators prolific
trancing them with adept birdie stuff
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 7:42 PM UTC
Toss these brackened antlers
to a Babylon of early crows
where slim repels of cirrus
lace the marches of Orion.
I wore you as an amulet
hard pressed upon my pestle arm
as charms of montane lunar drift
rebelled about your peacock gaze.
There is balsam on the Eastern run
in piquant writs of clementine ,
where jubilees of Persian mote
reveille in the waiting still.
As hieroglyphs of scrying palm
lay wraith about the cindered pane
you harried in ancestral bell..
The name of some forgotten God.
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
the wet brown deck planking
repels the the holidays invading
raindrops
I count the ones that bounce up
until the nth,
a scientific notation number,
achieves the mystical numerology status of
"a lot"
so,
not even eight am,
already have fallen in love,
two or three times,
once more
she's a
'all night long'
restless sleeper,
mouth moaning and body thrumming,
yet her smooth forehead is without lines,
those tree marks demonstrable
of the passage of
time in human time lines
breathing slow and at last resting quiet,
I count love vows renewed as
my glancing dewy-drops,
but tally only the ones that bounce,
reappearing as wet tears
upon my
foolish face
thus, even heavenly raindrops numbered,
have a mystical competitor,
love glance-drops,
in common,
both,
achieving the numerology status of
magical mystery called
"a lot"
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 3:53 PM UTC
I've got scratches on my knees
From the pressure Ive received
My heart beat quicked for a moment
As the pain was placed upon me
I can deny it all I want
But the scars on my shoulders
Match the edges of your words
So then I'm alone with them
And nobody answers the phone anymore
When you're sick you fade quick into nothing
My heart is a target
Each beat shot at like an animal
When something is dying you love it
Then why don't you love me now?
My sadness repels you like poisonous thorns
Each one more toxic then the one before
Who are you to me if not a hunter?
Can't you see me scream when you fire?
Tomorrow will be another sun and another set
I believe in it I do
That you can see my horizon
The way you see a god
Wait if I set the world down?
Would the pressure I feel dismount
Would it soften the blow of each bullet you shoot?
I can't run because I'm stuck
Always leaving, ways running away
But not I
Because I've got scratches on my knees from the world which I hold
But you still use me for target
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
This beautiful island seems lonely, as if it yearns for a shipwrecked sailor.
It has a hidden current that repels ships and swimmers.
Navigate that sly, strong pull
And risk being dashed to pieces on invisible rocks.
But oh, the rewards, should you reach that sandy shore.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 10:18 AM UTC
its soul is taken away from its root, its no more connected to its soil of birth.
we love its fruits, but the grim reaper has removed its artistry from the earth.
stripped of its delicacy, allure.
its happiness poisoned by death right to the core.
those array of colors begin to lose brightness.
a glimpse at its surroundings seems much finer.
its energy repels your stare.
the death of a flower.
the same ground that gave birth to it starts to expel the lifeless flower like a mother who no longer has a desire for her own child.
birds & bees are no longer attracted to this wasted flower.
it craved water and we denied it.
a bit of liquid could’ve keep it alive.
but we ignored it. we paid more attention to the beauty around it.
from its seeds a new flower grows, and the breathless flower says its last farewells. its time to go. the beginning & the end.
the soul of a dying flower sings its final melody, a song heard by understanding ears.
but nobody cares.
red exudes from its petals, for a dying flower these are burning tears.
a human being on this planet lives this life.
this is the story of a dying flower.
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
Division runs rampant through unity on the break
Torches flare as rage flickers smoldering kindling to flame
Erupting the perpetual boils that fester beyond infections wake
Fearful that lives saved are endangered for propagandas sake
Nay, the divisions that split rip to shreds the patriotic fabric
Shorn to threads amiable friendships that broach enmity
Between brothers bound by blood shared
Bleeding red in concealed unison given to each at birth
As mighty Gaia trembles under the weight of shrugging Atlas
Beseeching the old gods to return to former glories
Resting lonesome Olympus from its divine pantheon
To quake and shake the shared foundations built
Atop mountains of lies stacked one after another
Before the heavens part and holy Elysium repels
The hearts of both men and women who dared divide
A house unified on sacrosanct liberties inherent
Gifted to the corruptible souls of humanity
On the premise that justice should be for all
That hold the highest values inviolable
By any that would rabble-rouse the masses to forgo
The established law of the land on such flawed premises
Where words hold greater authority than actions convey
And peace is but a pipe dream puffed in perfect rings translucent
Fading before the light has a chance to cast dark shadows
Imperfect in their reflection yet somehow flawless in impression
Oh, if only we were not like that famous allegory
Confined to our own individual caves
Then maybe our eyes could open wide and once again
Let in the truth that we have for too long allowed to blind us in hate
Perhaps the fates would halt their furies
And end our shared torment avoidable
Unifying a once noble people to again stand proud
A beacon to a world begging for freedom
Clearing the fog of war and lighting the path
Back to the house we once called home
By L.R.Thompson
Aug 24, 2021
Aug 24, 2021 at 12:05 AM UTC
There are some people on this planet, that came here years ago in a space ship. They are called Pickers and they came from the planet Bnegative, in the Talkalot star system. They had to flee their planet because they had amassed a great negative attitude, which caused the planet to be swallowed by a blackhole.
You can usually avoid the Pickers if you see them in time. Here are a few examples that will help you identify Pickers. Pickers amass a great negative attitude that repels other people. For instance, if a Picker comes into a crowded room, the crowd will bunch up together like a school of fish, hoping to avoid eye contact with the Picker. Also, when Pickers find something wrong they will immediately correct you, then go on to tell you why you are wrong, when you became wrong, and what went wrong.
Pickers will pick, pick, pick, pick, pick at you until hell freezes over or the PickEs clothes catch on fire or dies. In that case the Picker will immediately find another person to complain about the cold, heat, or smell, of last said person.
There is no way to win an argument with a Picker, so it is best to nod your head in agreement until an escape route can be found. As a last resort you can grab some poor soul as they walk by and quickly introduce him to the Picker, then walk or run away, leaving the innocent bystander in your stead.
Pickers believe that if someone is wrong and they do not immediately tell that person they are wrong, the earth will then blow up.
Now, occasionally one Picker will find another Picker and start Pickering the other Picker. This usually ends in spontaneous combustion for both Pickers.
But, recently, scientist have found a planet that is suitable for humans. So pack your bags and grab your ticket to the planet Apossitive in the Farout Galaxy, where nothing is wrong and everyone is right.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 1:34 PM UTC