"sneaked" poems
Here's a story of the tortoise and the rabbit
Petty fights were kind of a habit
They couldn't decide who'd get the carrot
And so they agreed on racing to the jungle pit.
The tortoise made some calls and told the press
He said he's sure of winning the race
The rabbit sneaked in and asked if he's ready for his pace
The tortoise trashed back 'get ready to save your face'.
The race kicked off with much fan fare
Friends of the tortoise were outnumbered by those of the hare
The slow movin buddies were taken aback by the dare
Some even shouted 'this aint fair'.
The rabbit took off and was out of sight,
The tortoise could only take 2 steps which took all his might,
He knew he can put up a fight
If all that was planned just went right.
Miles behind but the tortoise didnt lose hope
cursed his legs, wished everything were a downward slope
the rabbit on the way came across a pretty doe
'Come in boy' she said 'you could use a cuppa joe'.
The rabbit told her he was in a race,
She said 'We dont have time, let's get to 3rd base'
The tortoise skipped the route and to get ahead
Took a bypass through the jungle maze.
The rabbit woke up from the one fine stand,
The doe confessed she was part of a plan
The tortoise could see the finish line
''More than the race, i wanna see the rabbit whine''
With a happy face, the rabbit left her crib
Approached the finish line to welcome the press clicks
And this is how the story was spun
The glory was slow but a deceptive one
The tortoise laughed after the race was done
Asked him 'how does it feel to be the slower one?'
The rabbit said 'I must admit I had much fun'
'Procrastination is in my blood, if i get that I think I've won'
There is a point which Aesop missed
Just calm down and go with the drift
Take what comes with the roll of the dice
As for the happy ending - the rabbit got it twice.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
Mean but resisting
Love stronger possessing
His charm I was Divinely
touched by his spirit
I want it so easy to flaunt it
"Both Suited" Black tie affair
Smoking out the joint
What a dangerous pair
Darker than any smoke
What's the point??
Going to blow devil words
Angelic Paradise birds
Do we have this planned out,
what do we see? He's not suited
Cruel 2-B ****** life is dark
but **** good easily taken
Fruit of the soul mistaken sliced
and parted
Paint's it Graffiti hood
Careless ****** up to him
Reckless my lips played
him hard
Smoked killed me off-guard
He sneaked around the fruit
Strawberry strange pursuit
My soul this is the last straw
Deadly strawberries beguiled
by the??
Strawberry smells of the
black rose
All covered seductively posed
The song plays out strawberry
With solitude voiced by
Soprano wine by the bucket
of deep red "Gallo"
Intense smoking love incense
Smoking jacket cuddled me
cello
Strawberry sounds smothered
Good night dark strawberry moon
I grabbed him way too soon
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
A forest adventure-we didn't plan it that way at all,
the call of the wild prompted us, is all I can now guess
hand in hand in to the woods we ventured like two possessed,
magical, it felt, we soon disappeared, from the eyes of curious intruders.
erogenous scent of damp earth, after the first sprinkling of monsoon clouds,
pepped up our interest in hunting mushrooms
popping up everywhere, like fragments of white clouds descended,
we pulled out, egg shaped mushrooms that came in to our view
the frenzy we fell in to, possessed us in total,
after all we we are also young and hot blooded,
We competed like hounds in hot pursuit,
ran, collided with each other, fell down,
with a gentle thud, upon each other.
She did lay flat, face down on my chest,
I smelt,musk on her neck a slow intoxicant
and mushrooms hidden in her both armpits,
which I pursued and found out,we were getting hot,
in pursuit of each other's secrets.
the world, we had forgotten completely for long!!
We didn't see evening light melt and
darkness spread stealthily over the woods
that engages the robust body of the night,
from the rendezvous, of these secret lovers,
we sneaked out and saw lighted torches,
approach us from all four directions.
they zeroed in on us,"Who goes there?"
a harsh voice asked,
"This, do you know, is the holy grove,
of mother goddess, strictly watched
for not to be get desecrated
by people who seek some sort of adventure,
such an act never goes unpunished,
we'll search you and find what you did"
We held out mushrooms before them,
and I saw each face turning a lotus!
"where did you get this,? Oh! so much!,
Those are so rare and any one is able to pluck it,
only if mother goddess is pleased"
And then we realized this,
in that forbidden sacred wood,
between us a miracle has happened!
that pleased the mother goddess
of the woods, the blessed presence,
aren't we then the chosen ones?
,
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 6:44 PM UTC
The local mall now has a Spenser’s Gifts;
I remember that place fondly as Al and I
make our way.
It’s where I sneaked a peek at Samantha Fox’s ****
for the first time,
saw my first **** ring,
wondering why anyone would want one.
I bought my first Metallica shirt at a Spencer’s;
spending twenty of my dad’s dollars.
Spencer’s and Record Wear House
were sanctuaries;
my escape from what my classmates
took for normal.
I took my son into that store
so that he could see the X-Men hats
and Deadpool shirts, the banana and pickle
pens caught his eye,
but I had to point out one more.
“What’s that one?” I asked.
Alex made a face, but in the end
he did what any 14 year old boy should,
he chuckled.
I took him in that store so that we both
could escape.
Earlier he walked the mall
a good fifteen feet ahead of us.
We stopped for ice cream.
He chose a soda and wouldn’t sit with us.
It took a second, but
I figured him out.
He was trying his teenaged self out;
testing his wings.
As we walked, he’d wave at classmates
and be either sturdily ignored or given a cursory nod.
It was obvious that he wanted so much more.
It pained us, my wife and I.
So, I took him into Spencer’s gifts
in an effort to remove some of his innocence and awkwardness.
It may not have been the wisest move,
but at least, for a moment,
both of us felt peace.
-JB CLaywell
©P&ZPublications; 2014
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
The first half light crescent sneaked out
catching a glimpse of you glinting
exuberant on the pitch dark
edge of the other side of the pool
wrapped in pure kohl.
Time and again matching the vision
it waxes into the full moon.
Awake all night in the serene shadow
down the blinded silhouetted earth.
I can see out off its calm lock
a firefly flies out and maybe afar
but that view might not miss no star.
But does even the moon see the tuberose
blooms in dark earth deep down the kohl?
Nov 28, 2021
Nov 28, 2021 at 7:26 PM UTC
Blazing hot sweats rolled down my back,
A cloudless sky was at reach from my palm’s view,
My eyes centered on the sun as it stood above my head.
Summer’s end sneaked around the corner,
But its endless heat
Fooled me to think it would never cease.
Milky sand grains covered my toes,
Beach ***** rolled back n’ forth,
Children’s castle were made and later destroyed,
Clear waters waved in my thoughts,
It was suppose to be a beautiful day
And until that moment, it was.
The moment the earth shook,
Loud voices suddenly began to rise
And footsteps tumbled the ground.
I looked around,
Right, left, up, down,
Where had the commotion come from?
The sun blinded me from the truth,
When the photons in my eyes reassembled the image,
A shock traveled to my heart
Making it pump furiously in my chest.
A desert ahead of me laid,
Content faces had ran from my presence,
The air dragged my body forward,
The ocean rapidly seemed to disappear,
I looked upon the never ending horizon
And its line had ascended greatly.
At that moment,
I refused to run like all the others,
I refused to avoid its magnificent moves.
The winds pushed me backwards with a tremendous force,
Sprinkles of icy water splashed against my skin,
A great calamity I was bound to face.
Shadows covered the surface of my dread,
An enormous wall of wetness surrounded me,
And with a blink, I was no longer visible to the eyes of men,
Even God could not spot me from the heavens above.
I gasped for air in the salty waters of the ocean
But there was none to be found,
And with that last thought in mind
I drowned myself in its eternal beauty.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
I remember it was cold and quiet. We stood up beneath the scattering stars.
Silently staring at the landscape outspread in front of us, where the mountain touched the sky.
Losing count on the steps taken, you wondered how many dreams townspeople had to reach the summit tower seen from afar;
Spreading lights randomly with no purpose to guide. Little yet arrogant. Like a candlestick being put on the top of the world, accidentally.
Or maybe, incidentally placed to embody the messiah for those who would discover it that way — which might be peculiarly irrational.
Despite the lame fact, it still mesmerized you. I just knew the moment your starry eyes were seen in the dim night. And out of the blue, it captivated me too.
We sneaked from the despotic night, releasing laughs from the deepest and most untouched alley in our lungs. Our fears were freed.
Nonchalant towards the thing ahead of us, even to the time that felt prematurely withered.
"I remember once this priest brought hope to our house, and we just followed him since then", you said. That’s how you told me that miracle wasn’t the thing that kept us living, but hopes that enlightened.
Unyielding lost in the most chaotic ecstasy I have ever encountered. It became that moment when a knock on the door wouldn’t be able to break our reverie.
Modest. Humble.
We then walked unafraid through the open door that led us to the home where the sun rises.
Aug 14, 2022
Aug 14, 2022 at 9:26 AM UTC
I guess you could call me
a people addict;
I live for the exchanges,
momentary or prolonged,
the satisfaction of smiles substituted for
verbalized salutations;
the how-you-do's and hello's,
the pleasantries of chit chat,
talk of my oh my, I am not ready for this snow
and how was your holiday?;
catching a supposed-to-be-sneaked glance from that tasty
stranger,
allowing your eyes to meet for longer than
you meant to;
a compliment that drips off the lips so sweet,
its nectar invading the taste buds for hours
on end;
individualized or multiplied,
I relish in the conjugated haze,
in the gazes and the giggles,
in the potential formulation of inside jokes,
in a have a good day to a grin I will never see again,
the whirlwind of vowels and consonants,
of coincidences and sarcasm,
of the impressions we may leave of which
we will never be aware;
I crave the mundane,
I get high off the monotony,
I am swallowed by the simplicity;
Yeah,
I guess you could call me a
people addict,
and I'm cool with that.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC
Love is all he knows,
Like doves, he reeps what he cannot sow,
Completely seeping where you cannot go,
Secretly creeping on his toes,
And there it goes,
Waking up a stranger to the morning sun,.
After shaking from danger,
He cannot live without her his heart speaks out in anger,
She's the last out, to give what they were, from back in the start, for' she sneaked around,
Turned his whole world upside down,
He grabs the gun and preys his last prayers, she stabbed his heart, and it teared and teared,
Life's not fair life's not fair, the underkeeper gloomed,
The gun killed today, and a love much steeper bloomed.
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
I wander into this dark, misTearYous room
—and there he was...and wow! What a Fig!
He with the long, lustRuse hair,
sitting at a corner table, nursing a cup of hot cocoa.
Dang. He has better hair than I do!
“I’m a gin at Ion’s,” were his first words spoken.
“I’m a gin at Ion’s.” And then sighlens.
I was trying to look through his lens, and figure out his sighs,
when he utters, “I can see you are number—“
“Huh? I am number what? I don’t see any lines here..."
“Ah, yes you are, as I was... NumBer as in more than numb.”
Epicfunny!
He definitely got me, he with the misTearYous eyes
so I sit down and ask him what he means
(but I refused to ask how he saw through my numbity)
“What do you mean that you are a gin? And where is Ion’s?”
“Exactly just that. I’m a gin at Ion’s. A **** t’Eve.”
He tells me that Ion’s is nowhere, everywhere and knowhere,
of how anyone who takes even a sip of that gin can hold on to it—
too much, so much so, as to lose that grip on ReAhhlity...
I ask him what he does there.
Seemingly one word, two meanings—
"aMuse," says he...
He reveals he is also part-tickles, part abs-tackles
then he also exhails at wind ‘o pains,
to fog or clear up views and relayshunships...
But oh! How at one point he felt tieurd, of how he had so many callUses—
numb, tired of how it reCurse, of always being called upon, of being used
Sighlens.
Been used So many times, he didn’t know who he was anymore...
a Duke at Ion’s,
a con’s front at Ion’s,
an ex pecked at Ion’s,
a lucid at Ion’s,
a rebel at Ion’s...
Oddly enough, even if he has been ‘d sign at Ion’s,
he still felt blahtantly invisible,
even if at one point he wore only a V-bra at Ion’s!
He chalks everything up to exPeerience, and has learned from it.
And that's why he's also known as a sensei at Ion’s (his personal favorite)
He says even if he can go beyond infinity, he—
He stops (ah gain!) and yes, there it sneaked in...Sighlens.
Telling me through the void, through his sighs, through his lens
To close my eyes, and figYour out myself.
And then I do...
ReAhhlieZing how much I could relate,
how I have been in DenyAll of my possiBElities.
It is all a matter of perSpeck'tEve, of looking at each tiny speck of life,
of creating something from each of it, entire universes even—
boundless
How odd that I myself felt like I'm a gin at Ion's...
Scrunchscrunch...Imaginations.
Addictive, yes, so I best be careful with where I take it.
I oh!pen my eyes and the fig meant to show me ReAhhlity had gone...
Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 1:12 PM UTC
Christina
was by the tuck shop
in the school corridor
in mid morning recess
don't eat
too many sweets
I said
got to watch
your figure
she was with
other girls
who giggled
I thought you watched
my figure anyway
she said smiling
of course
I said
she bought
a couple of Wagon Wheels
and she left
the girls there
and walked with me
along the corridor
bought one for you
she said
I took it
and said
thank you
we walked further down
until we came
to the gym
and sneaked in
one of the doors
it was empty
so we sat
on the one
of the benches
by the wall
didn't have time
for breakfast this morning
she said
my mother
was in one
of her moods
and I couldn't
put up
with her moans
so I came to school
early so now
I’m hungry
well have
this Wagon Wheel back
I don't need it
I said
no you have it
she said
why was your mother
in a mood?
I asked
she said my room
was untidy
and that I do nothing
about the house
and is it
and don't you?
I asked
it is
she said
and I don't
so she gets
all moody and moans
Christina bit
into the Wagon Wheel
and I ate mine
sunlight poured
into the high windows
of the gym
making patterns
on the floor
voices from outside
echoed
around the walls
after we had eaten
our sweets
she said
we have time
to kiss don't we?
I guess so
I said
she leaned in
and kissed my lips
and I kissed hers
putting my arms
around her waist
just then
a prefect came in
one of the doors
and saw us
and said
what are you doing
in here?
you should be out
in the playground
or on the sports field
not in here
so we sighed
and went out
of the gym
and along
the corridor
the prefect shouting
at us from behind
our backs
but the kiss
still lingered
on my lips
warm wet and soft
and the prefect
didn't feel that
I bet.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
he steps forward to bless us with song
benediction’s serenade
binder clips and clothespins weaken wind
as sheet music tries to take flight
with each strum he was fighting it
emoting with sad lips and blue eyebrows
taking deep breaths let out with heavy sighs
but holding steady
singing and crying come from the same place
as he sang the sun sneaked out
shadows surrendered their stronghold
a moment of warmth shown upon our gathering
near the pine tree at our father’s grave
Terence’s ashes to be interred with dad
a musician, an artist, a writer of songs and poems
a technician, an electrician, a wood worker
his many gifts now only spoken of in past tense
a son to two, a brother to eight
an uncle to many
a father to one daughter
his passion relived in his writings and works
his essence reflected in her eyes
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC
What I choose I plan to do and with Satan's trap,
What I think I hesitate to choose but troubled by Satan's trap,
When I forget the Word of God I derive pleasure by Satan's trap,
When I feel God's Grace below my soul I bargain my soul with Satan,
How I play with God's patience that with the tool of Satan,
How I use Satan's tool that with my love of the world,
Why I love the world of filthiness that I fail to pray,
Why I fail to pray is that laziness has sneaked into my soul,
Where I look for the place to pray that I find nowhere to do so,
Wherefore time and place are no where found but in one's soul.
Let me drop myself into the Arms of God in Christ,
And look upon Him on the Cross where His Blood still flow afresh,
And each drop of His Blood is for my sins to be cleansed.
'O, Lord! Give me strength to resist temptation and sin!
In Christ Jesus
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:03 AM UTC
The town was in chaos, with people running away to places
To escape the dark, haunted beauty of death
The disease spread like a fire, with no one to quench its rage
Killing people on its long run, stealing their breath.
Cries and screams pierced the feared silence
As mothers clutched their child's lifeless bodies
Who knew an epidemic could shatter million dreams in an instant?
For all that was now remaining were fading memories.
There lived an untouchable family- a father, and his daughter in the town
His only valuable possession, the one whom he truly loved
She smiled with her eyes and could never be seen with a frown
She was her father's world, his lovely little dove.
But who could erase his prevailing worries
For his daughter always went out to play?
Who could soothe his tortured mind
Saying that his daughter would return safe and sound by the end of the day?
It was that fateful day, when his dreadful fears came true
Crippling his daughter with the disease that had taken away so many souls
He cried for her lost smiles, he cried for her dull eyes
Will he ever be able to win back his fragile hope?
Nights seemed to drag by, or were those days?
He never could tell, he was always by her side
Cocooned inside the warmth of darkness, he fought to stay awake
But how could he when his daughter was fighting to stay alive?
The girl who used jump and play around
Now lay limp in her bed, her voice slowly growing weaker
She called her father and whispered,
'Papa, all I want is a flower from the holy temple.'
How could he refuse his dying daughter's wish?
But how could an untouchable step his feet into the scared grounds?
But there was no time to hesitate, no time to waste
Gathering his courage, he sneaked in without a sound.
But is life ever sweet?
'Hey you! How dare you enter the temple?' They screamed
Their hate filled voice mingled with the spiritual prayers
Trapping him, as they held him hostage for a week.
He rushed home, fear in his mind and tears in his eyes
Seven days had felt like seven years,
How could they be so cruel? How could they not understand a father's heart?
All he could hear was his daughters screams ringing in his ears.
He slammed open the door, searching for his daughter
She lied there, at the corner, lifeless black eyes stared back at him
He took her in his arms, and cried
That day, along with her, a part of him died.
He lost his love because he was an untouchable
He lost his smile because he was an untouchable
He lost her because he was an untouchable
He lost himself all because he was an untouchable..
An English version of the poem 'एक फूल की चाह' by Siyaram Sharan Gupt
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 9:37 PM UTC
POLAND, France, Judea ran in her veins,
Singing to Paris for bread, singing to Gotham in a fizz at the pop of a bottle's cork.
"Won't you come and play wiz me" she sang ... and "I just can't make my eyes behave."
"Higgeldy-Piggeldy," "Papa's Wife," "Follow Me" were plays.
Did she wash her feet in a tub of milk? Was a strand of pearls sneaked from her trunk? The newspapers asked.
Cigarettes, tulips, pacing horses, took her name.
Twenty years old ... thirty ... forty ...
Forty-five and the doctors fathom nothing, the doctors quarrel, the doctors use silver tubes feeding twenty-four quarts of blood into the veins, the respects of a prize-fighter, a cab driver.
And a little mouth moans: It is easy to die when they are dying so many grand deaths in France.
A voice, a shape, gone.
A baby bundle from Warsaw ... legs, torso, head ... on a hotel bed at The Savoy.
The white chiselings of flesh that flung themselves in somersaults, straddles, for packed houses:
A memory, a stage and footlights out, an electric sign on Broadway dark.
She belonged to somebody, nobody.
No one man owned her, no ten nor a thousand.
She belonged to many thousand men, lovers of the white chiseling of arms and shoulders, the ivory of a laugh, the bells of song.
Railroad brakemen taking trains across Nebraska prairies, lumbermen jaunting in pine and tamarack of the Northwest, stock ranchers in the middle west, mayors of southern cities
Say to their pals and wives now: I see by the papers Anna Held is dead.
2.1k
The terra is only one
planted in clay soil
one planet of earth!
The sneaked out nightingale
here is never gone.
Unleashes soprano
at the same ancient roses'
still a perfumed home!
It's the starry upside's
dark down deep hole.
Sunset melting shadow
down the half light moon!
Eyes on in toto cool
after the day painter sun
is done colouring in full.
Guess, up from the sunrise mountain
who beams back tomorrow
into this unfathomed serene clay-mole?
Again see the sun follows by the moon!
Jun 9, 2021
Jun 9, 2021 at 1:02 PM UTC
Matilda listens to make sure they’ve gone out knowing Mr Doozie the cat is licking his milk the slurping sound fills the now silent room but she has to be sure her aunt and uncle have gone she can’t allow Moses to come in by the backdoor until they’re long gone and in the town buying and selling their wares she places her hands on her head and closes her eyes to focus her listening to close out Mr Doozie’s sounds the saucer of milk being pushed across the floor the purring but she cannot hear them now cannot hear their voices can’t hear Auntie’s whines and Uncle’s bellows can’t smell Uncle’s pipe or the aroma of his farts or Auntie’s sour body odour and sniffs the air and puts one leg up on the chair and lets the skirt fall back revealing her fine thigh and underwear something for Moses to see and get excited about not that he needs any encouragement especially after the last time he came around when her aunt and uncle had gone off for the day to market on the old bus and Moses had sneaked in the back door his eyes peering around the door and she saying They’ve gone out you can come in and he did and while Mr Doozie sat on the end of the bed watching disinterestedly Moses had kissed her all over her body and after games of foreplay he’d entered her with subtleness and moved in a slow motion so that the bed only moved and rattled slightly and did not disturbed Mr Doozie and they had only just dressed and was letting Moses out the back door when Auntie came in the front door followed by Uncle with his arms laden with shopping and moaning about the prices and the shop girls and how there is no manners anymore and she feeling Moses’ ***** easing down her thigh and stood there with her innocent stare but this time Moses would need to be quicker as they had only gone to town and wouldn’t be long and if they returned earlier and caught her and Moses undressed and ******* with Mr Doozie sitting watching she doesn’t know what they’d say or do although knowing Uncle he’d chase off Moses with his walking stick and tan her hide until she cried and cried but Moses hasn’t come and she listens out hushing Mr Doozie with a shush shush and scratches her thigh and strains her ears was that him? She sighs opening her eyes sitting up looking towards the door waiting anticipating feeling the body’s urge the body’s need wanting Moses to come through the door and hurry with her up the stairs followed no doubt by Mr Doozie and quickly ********** and into her bed and setting aside the kissing and messing get on with the ******* but the door remains closed the room is almost silent apart from Mr Doozie’s licking and purring and the soft tick tocking of the grandfather clock and her heart thumping boom boom boom boom like a small drum all around the room and inside her head and she disappointed frustrated with no *** with Moses just a small empty bed.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
The path is jagged and so I have been told
I feel so pathetic feel old
The canvas I started is thrown on the floor
The room is full of smoke
I cant help feel distressed
I’m hesitant of this mind of mine
I try and surrender but I cant find the time
When all is said and all is gone
Will I see you? Will you fall at my feet?
With pieces of me upon the mountains for only you to keep
I never tried to stay
I knew what I had to do
Wanting to inhale you into a line straight into my mind
Through amethyst moons and fields of love
You come undone and I have just brought you the sun
Pieces of me dwelling in your nerves
Every ounce of your resilience divulges me
You cant escape what you feel
I beat on this drum
Longing for love that is new
Watch you gaze at me with those shades on
Like an old hippie that just cant grow
Patchouli the fresh scent in your hair
Delicate and weak as you go
Spread your wings
Look at that light it forced itself in
I wanted to stay in bed and sleep
But for the reasons I have to live
It sneaked up on me anyway
It was a Wednesday an a dreadful day to fall in love
But as I crossed the road you caught me by my thoughts
Make sure you kiss the sky as you fly by
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 10:56 PM UTC
Claus, Santa, the
Is a huge enigma to me
And probably many others
My enigmatized sisters and brothers.
Enigmatized, possibly stigmatized,
It beggars logical thought
All the confusion and pain
This concept has brought.
For over two centuries
Surrounded with mysteries
An alternately jovial and evil guy
Brought bounteous gifts, could fly!
Gave coal to the misbehaving,
Or nothing much at all, saving
All the good stuff for good kids
Who were careful with what they did.
We have read of Saint Nick
And Sinterklaas; take your pick
Of which legend blended with what
To become the guy we were taught
Sneaked down chimneys at night
It you kids didn’t sleep tight.
While this is all very typical
It seems rather biblical.
Claus’s eye is on the sparrow
So we must walk the straight and narrow
Or go down into his big naughty book
And he will ultimately decide to look
Askance at any chance of gifts for you
No matter how much begging you do
Write to his eternal rotund self.
He’s an unforgiving old elf.
And there’s that flying reindeer thing
And the way he’s rumored to go zipping
Around the entire blessed world in one night.
That, to me just never seemed quite right.
It’s bizarre and incredible is exactly what.
Do the reindeer have jet engines in their ****
And how can one tiny sleight and eight beasts
Tote those thousands of truckloads at least?
No, the whole thing sounds bogus, in its base.
And that whole North Pole/tiny people place
Where they slave on making toys all the year
And thrive on hot chocolate instead of beer?
Elves must be a rather dim gang of workers.
No union leaders? No malingerers? No lurkers?
I have tried for decades, but it doesn’t add up.
There’s too much questionable in this holiday cup.
I’m going back to the idea I thought as a child.
It’s easier to believe and not nearly as wild:
It’s Mom and Dad behind it all, it’s a big lie.
And my final bit of skepticism? I can tell you why.
The kids in my little neighborhood get given
Gifts with no relationship to how they are living.
If all this hogwash were actually true
Bunches of them would get coal too.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
Each one of us are suspect
The trick is how are we going to connect
For which we aim victory and do teamwork
But betrayed by the low ping of network
Choose room if it is public or private
Use map for the ship to navigate
Impostors sneaked up on a vent
Took a moment to **** the innocent
It's where we learn to pretend
Laugh 'til the end,
Learn for yourself to defend
Be wise for which your victory depend
Call emergency meetings to discuss
One of us will be eliminated
Five, Four, Three, Two, One SHHHHHHH!
you disconnected
http://stalwartdull-thoughts.blogspot.com/2020/09/among-us.html
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 8:34 PM UTC
The day blister as the sun followed 'er.
No shade nor a parasol as she goeth an' hope for evanescent heat
A basket in 'er hand, one way to marketplace
'Alt! A mad horse kicked thro'
Dropped on earth, dirt in 'er sleeves
"Gawd o' all horses keep yer eyes open to see!"
A fine young man bowed down for repent about his detriment ride.
O! Poor little thing!
A thorough water in the basket she offered for 'er long little journey.
** The vigor horse galloped an' circle round she.
'twas a good thing an' he proffers honourable ride.
There goes the curtsy 'off in the marketplace' says she.
Alt! The creature pause. Where is this? "thy big heart shalt hail for I, present thankfulness. Devoting thy fortune." the prince rendered his throne bounteously.
O! Applause how majestic upclose a palace could be.
'tis she wish e'er since. To seek for a lost playmate, hoping for camaraderie. Remembering in that small village where the little prince sneaked. Oh dear! 'Twas he!
Aye! The prince hoped the same an' knew all of a sudden. He made 'er his wife!
(An' they live happily e'er after. Bow)
-A
8/11/14
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
Your charming perfume ..
sneaked into me ...
within my soul ...
took me ...
out of nowhere ...
where i don't know
to no where ...
there ...
where are you ...
where always ...
my soul roams for you ...
to play with my breaths ...
hymns of love ...
to sing it ...
with my mind ...
as love song ...
sings with your name ...
to fly so high ...
while singing your name ...
to break up ...
the distance ...
between us ...
to be with you ...
inside your nest's heart ...
there where could you be ...
your charming perfume ...
is always ...
my pathway ...
where i get you ...
hazem al ..
Mar 29, 2021
Mar 29, 2021 at 1:42 AM UTC