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Brody Blue Aug 2017
Under the tree of the university
A shadow was gruesomely cast.
The branches made too much shade
And there grew no grass.
No one would lie under its wood
Down beside its trunk;
It wasn't essential, there was no potential,
Claimed the revered monk
But late at night you'll find him lying in the dirt
Wearing a Paisley Poplin Shirt

The click of the gears define his years,
A cycle on a chain
A cloud of sand thrown by his own hand
Hones forth his pain
He blows seeds of dandelion weeds
****** a ****** field
And he pretends that he intends
To reap this horrible yield
Because unintentionally he subconsciously convert
To one who wears a Paisley Poplin Shirt

Covered in rust, a blade he adjusts,
His mind remains unwrung
The words to speak were too **** bleak
So he cuts off his tongue
He'll be finished when he's diminished
These humanly sights
If there's no vision at the end of his mission
He'll gouge out his eyes
And Helen Keller takes one of her old ragged skirts
And fashions him a Paisley Poplin Shirt

Why must we be obsessed
With the unseen
When we know we cannot
Make something out of nothing
And to those of you who think that you cannot be hurt
Stones go thru a Paisley Poplin Shirt
Song Lyrics
Sunshine May 27
he's off somewhere now

ran away with my heart

but I stole his t-shirt, so guess we're even
starting some new short poems
hope you like
thx


xoxo
-sunshine
Michael Jun 8
You standing there looking so innocent
and ****, bitting your lip
Smiling so guiltily and you hair
Cascading down around your face
Over your shoulders and styled by JBF
You standing a bit awkwardly your legs
falling from my flannel and smooth as hell
Your feet up on the ***** as if in high heels
flexing in anticipation and a devilish grin  
With a "What me?" delectation
It's not a skirt, it's my flannel shirt
And with your post coitol giggle
A splash of ***** and a hint of naughty
and you looking muy caliente
As I take you in you take my breath away
I purposely used caliente (it's the buck in rut mentality) instead of hermosa (the correct word in context).
L B Jul 2018
An early evening gust
broke the back of the day's blaze
Still 90 degrees at eight
in orange haze
Sweat runs down my neck
Through the gorge between my *******
The wind lifts my linen shirt
runs its hands along my sides
reviving memory
of Forest Park
of a blanket in the grass

Where the pines trace
so many faces
Crackling popping kids
stolen matches, running
screaming victorious!
Blowing tin cans up with fire crackers
Bicycles, sparklers, fireworks at dusk
That whole afternoon
I spent hammering caps

Noise really makes us kids
really
especially
annoying

Mom wants us out!
Gone! All of us!
No needs. No excuses!
No cookies! No slices of bologna!
“No more Kool Aid!
Out now!
Out!”

That evening I tried
to dismiss the itchy sweat
of stupid-sister-Suzy-matching-sun-suits
at Gino's family picnic
When some kid
(I don't know?)
between the rigatoni and the sweet corn
Some kid
tosses a sparkler
into box of fireworks
I don't know?
whether to cry or laugh
I was pretty scared
Rockets going off across the lawn
and onto porch
Craze of colors through the trees
Some at eye-level horror!
But the sight of Aunt Nedda
diving under picnic table
Stockings, garter belt upended
Capsized beyond her caring
of uplifted dress

Some images just stay with you, ya know?

July 4th always lands for me
on a firework's ***
"Caps"  are little red rolls of gunpowder dots, originally made to give a snap to toy guns of the 1950s.  We figured out that by layering them and using a hammer, you could get a bigger crack.
Lazhar Bouazzi Jul 2018
The first thing I saw early this morning
When I pulled back the light green curtains
Was a hectic blue 'n orange butterfly
Wavering in the fair sun of my garden -
'tween the enclosed well and the laurel tree.

On a sidewalk, red and radiant,
Strutted two maidens together,
A turquoise skirt wore the one,
A chocolate T-shirt the other.

Jubilant they were together,
As the cadence of their laughter
Waved in the air like Tunisian silk.

No harvest did my screen display today,
No mountain range did loom far in the distance;
All that was shown were a laughing sidewalk,
And a quivering sun in a small garden.

(c) LazharBouazzi
why do you go to sleep in t-shirt and no bottoms?
he asks after years of
le marred marriage age

why for modesty and as a
sign of respectful readiness,
naturally!

gazing upon me, you’ll see my x-small size,
tight bright pink v-necked t-shirt from Old Navy

making you reflect, my dear,
that this particular woman
is one confident sailor

gazing upon me, you’ll see my naked pure
intentions undoubtedly at the ready
per my
Girl Scout training,
“Be Prepared”
whenever help is needed^

making you reflect, my dear,
that this lady scout could probably
start a fire easy with just
one handy stick
and you,
‘rubber suit’ matching
my nighttime costume,
when our “couture au lingerie,”
exhibits a happy styling similarity
^ Motto: The Girl Scout motto is "Be prepared." In the 1947 Girl Scout Handbook, the motto was explained this way: "A Girl Scout is ready to help out wherever she is needed. Willingness to serve is not enough; you must know how to do the job well, even in an emergency."
September Roses May 2018
Thick, warm, fuzzy air
Radiates against your skin, making you want to doze off
You sit on the front of a low red car that looks another era, leaning on the glossy hood.
I want to put your lips on mine
The world feels yellow, and orange.
It's as if clear smoke has filled the air
My eyes are dimmed through thick sunglasses, my body absorbing the warmth through jeans and a small black shirt
I'm in a lucid daze
Looking at you through a curtain of straight black hair, not bothered to move it from my face.
You're eyes the crisp refreshing blue in a world tinted amber
Like fresh water, so cooling as I gaze in them.
Like a spray of water on your back
After hours of sunbathing
We sit there
We say nothing
We take in the sun
   We don't need anything else
September Roses May 2018
I run myself a bath, I put fluffy bubbles and soothing soaps in it, I light candles and turn down the lights, and make sure it's the perfect temperature
To cry in it

I drag myself out of bed, brush my teeth and get dressed, I tediousely organize my room, alphabetical, by colour, I get out my books, I dust the smooth pages
To cry on them

I pick out a fresh shirt, pants, shoes. I tie my hair and dry my face. I put on a nice jacket
Just to soak it with tears

Just to cry

It's seems most of my time these days, is spent on things that stray to sobs
Stray to crying
lirau Jul 2018
The dark reflects off the mirrors
A long t-shirt fondly used to cover my mornings
Fell for what sought me

With ferocious caresses
I am a carcass thrown to a starving lion.
But I'm still breathing
Against the shoulders above me
In return

He prowls
The rainforest path of clothing,
Tugging the shirt back over my head.
written in a starbucks while staring at my friend
edited Aug 12
Crimson Falcon Dec 2018
I remember that night
the very moment my heart became yours
Your boyish smile and your deep laugh
Your hushed voice never stopped playing on my mind

I remember your bright red shirt and your confident gait
your fierce stare keeping me from thinking straight
Your beautiful words I'll never forget
I never knew my heart could skip a beat like that

I remember my disappointment when the sun rose
my excitement when your name flashed on my phone
it wasn't long until you consumed my every thought

I remember the day I saw you at the shops
my delicate heart suddenly came to a stop
you tried to speak as I stumbled over my words
I turned and ran away leaving the whole thing in a blur

I remember the day the thought of you stopped making me dizzy
that hole in my heart didn't feel so big anymore
but even then I knew  
I will always remember the beautiful boy I fell for
to the boy that never got a chance and the love that could have been
I will never forget
Andra Jul 2015
Today. I give up.*

I got up to you,
I climbed
all the stairs of the seven storeys, until
I got there, where
I forsook
the costume and the mask,
the desire and the expectancy.
I left them all neatly folded at the door.
You will find them in the morning when
you will wake up and
you will leave sleepy for the office.
You probably won't put them into consideration.
You'll step over "i miss you",
over "i'd love to",
and you''ll hit the little"why" in its belly while
he slowly pulls your sleeve.
Don't worry,
I am better now.
I forgot about the dimples and the mole.
How does your voice sound?
Your eyes... are they green or brown?
That yellow t-shirt,
that plaid shirt...
I do not even care if
you will see the pile
waiting for you outside the door.
It's not like
you have not seen
my backpack every time
we met...

Today I give up.

Because
I am not made of concrete,
and that's how the breeze that
you carry with you
always
unbalances
me.
Because
I really know how to ride a bike and
I do not need training wheels.
Because
I am not afraid.
Because
I have courage.
And especially,
because
I have nothing to do here.
It's empty and deserted.
It's nothing.

*Today I quit.
Margaret Jun 2014
I've gotten in trouble before
          though it hasn't been for awhile
For a shirt too low
                  or a short too short.

And I took time out of my day
For boys who couldn’t stop staring.
Najwa Kareem Jan 21
You're going to force me to violate a practice that has been ordained upon me by GOD for specific reasons after locking me up when I've committed no crime.

You're going to bully me and try to intimidate me and the many others who cover our hair and our body parts in order to dress modestly when in public and dignify ourselves.

You're going to forcefully remove my headscarf I've been willingly wearing after my conversion to the most perfected faith tradition, with the last, final, revised God's words' edition.

Well now you've contributed to a response to injustice in me.

Well now you've contributed to a response to violations of civil liberties, human rights, and religious freedom in me.

Well now you've contributed to a response to a crime against me and my blood and religious family in me.

Well now you've agitated a trend of resistance.

Well now you've fueled a trend of by whatever means necessary.

Well now you've instigated a trend of I love my GOD, I love my Prophet, I love my religion and you're not going to stop me.

Well now you've aggrevated a trend of many who are ready to stand up for me, by many who like me, by many who are like and unlike me.

Well now you've wised up a bit and have let me perform one of my religious duties, the wearing of my headscarf again proudly.

By: Najwa Kareem
P.S. No, we are not going to celebrate the fact that the corrupt, crooked system is letting Marzieh Hashemi wear a headscarf again and cover her arms now. No, we're not going to be happy about that to any serious degree, well at least I am not because compared to giving her what she has absolute rights to, her freedom, what they have given her is nothing.

Free Marzieh Hashemi Now!!!
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
Have you ever felt like a child in the dark?
Where the whispers become thunder and the gods pound in your heart?
There's no sense in trying to quiet the storm
All that can be done is to embrace it with both arms

I feel like a traveller stumbling on a chest
Filled with something familiar but I can't quite place it yet
I found a picture lying in the dirt
As my mind was turned on by the velvet colored shirt

Some time ago, when my hair reached my eyes
I recall a quick visit that seemed to disappear and die
No matter how hard I try to remember
I can't come up with reasons I gave up that cold September

Now, as time's gone by, and things have changed
Like the inflections of my voice and memories estranged
I hear a voice from many Septembers ago
Like a harmony so rich that I can't wait to know
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