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"snide" poems
The only part of my day That I look forward to Is when I go to bed And lay there making up scenarios In my head. I think of comebacks To 8th grade bullies. I think of witty retorts To my mother's snide comments. I think of intelligent things to add To conversations I had months ago. I think of all the things I was too scared to say. And in my mind I say them. And pretend how things would be different If only I had the courage to speak.
0
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 5:00 PM UTC
Courage to Speak
Some People Are ... EVIL ... !!! Some People Are ... Nice ... Some People Believe ... In The Lies They Contrive ... Black People ... White People ... Yes ALL TYPES of People ... !!! Don't Think You're EXEMPT Most People Tell Lies ... !!! Some People Want TRUTH These People Are Wise ... These Are The People Who Use Their ... 3rd Eye ... I'm Sick of These People Whose Lives Are Contrived ... Like Poets Who Act Like Their Words Breed Insight ... MAN These Are The People Who Lead A ... FAKE Life ... !!! Because They Can't Deal With ... What's REALLY INSIDE ... INSIDE of Their Minds ... INSIDE of Their Hearts ... See These Are The People Who Fall At The Start ... !!!!!!!! They STAND By Their PRIDE ... But Pride We All Know Comes Before A FALL ... !!! How Many of You Folks Are Playing That Role ... !???! Let's Go Toe To Toe And See What You Know ... Because I GUARANTEE ... You'll Be A NO SHOW ... !!! See They ... Like To Deride ... Their Comments Are Snide ... !!! MAN These Are The People I CANNOT ABIDE ... !!!!!!!! They TALK A Good Game But Have NO **** SHAME ... !!!!! Because These Are The People Who DON'T Deal With Pain ... They Pass YOU The Rope ... And Then Say ... " TAKE THE STRAIN " ... !!! See These Are The People Who Need Their Blood DRAINED ... !!! They ARE The Bloodsuckers Who STEAL From The Sane ... !!! They TALK About TRUTH But Soon HIT The Roof ... !!! When Truth Is Thrown At Them They're QUICK To ABUSE ... !!! "I'll issue court action, I want a Retraction !" ... Well Here Is My View ... These People Are FOOLS .... Who've Got Some Screws LOOSE !!!!! Deal With YOUR ISSUES I've Been In Courtrooms ... Don't EVER ASSUME I'm An IGNORANT **** ... !!!!!! This ISN'T ... Pulp Fiction ... !!! Don't Think I'm ... The Shepherd ... I'm NOT Samuel Jackson I'm Ready For Action ... !!! You Will Be Collapsing When I Start Reacting ... !!! Don't EVER Presume I'm Into ... Play Acting ... !!! I'll Leave That To You And Your Idiot Crew ... !!! Cos' These Are The People Who Don't Give You Clues ... Cos These Are The People Who Simply Aren't TRUE ... !!! They Like Their Doors OPEN ... So They Can Walk Through ... MAN These Are The People ... Who Walk In ... DEAD SHOES ... !!! Now I'm NOT Making Threats ... !!! But On THIS ... You Can Bet ... !!! Messing With Me ... Means You're Messing With DEATH ... !!! Cos' I'm Ready And Willing To Take Your LAST Breath ... Cos' People Like You Are ... Humanity's DREGS ... !!!!! But Enough About THEM ... Society's Phlegm ... !!!!!!!!!!!! Some People ARE NICE These People I Like ... !!! Cos' Some of These People Do Use The Mic RIGHT ... !!!!! They Talk About Things That Affect Peoples' Lives ... Without EVER Thinking Their Wordplay ... DELIGHTS ... These People Are Humble And SHUN Foolish Pride ... !!! Cos' These Are The People ... Who Look DEEP INSIDE ... INSIDE of THEMSELVES And Find Love of The SELF ... Cos' Love of The Self Can Preserve Mental Health ... And Help You To Deal With ... DUD Cards You Get Dealt ... !!!!! These Words Are ........ HEARTFELT ........ !!! Good People DO HELP ... WITHOUT EVER Thinking of Helping THEMSELVES ... !!! Good People Are VITAL For Human Survival ... !!!! This Is Now The Reason I Do These Recitals ... I'm Trying To Put ..... Something GOOD In The CYCLE ... !!! The ... Cycle of Life ..... That Has MANY Good People ... !!! But TOO MANY People Are Now Doing EVIL ... !!!!!! Which Is Why I'm Relating My Views About ........... ......... " People " .........
0
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
"People" .... A Poem written by Big Virge 15/6/2005
Some People Are ... EVIL ... !!! Some People Are ... Nice ... Some People Believe ... In The Lies They Contrive ... Black People ... White People ... Yes ALL TYPES of People ... !!! Don't Think You're EXEMPT Most People Tell Lies ... !!! Some People Want TRUTH These People Are Wise ... These Are The People Who Use Their ... 3rd Eye ... I'm Sick of These People Whose Lives Are Contrived ... Like Poets Who Act Like Their Words Breed Insight ... MAN These Are The People Who Lead A ... FAKE Life ... !!! Because They Can't Deal With ... What's REALLY INSIDE ... INSIDE of Their Minds ... INSIDE of Their Hearts ... See These Are The People Who Fall At The Start ... !!!!!!!! They STAND By Their PRIDE ... But Pride We All Know Comes Before A FALL ... !!! How Many of You Folks Are Playing That Role ... !???! Let's Go Toe To Toe And See What You Know ... Because I GUARANTEE ... You'll Be A NO SHOW ... !!! See They ... Like To Deride ... Their Comments Are Snide ... !!! MAN These Are The People I CANNOT ABIDE ... !!!!!!!! They TALK A Good Game But Have NO **** SHAME ... !!!!! Because These Are The People Who DON'T Deal With Pain ... They Pass YOU The Rope ... And Then Say ... " TAKE THE STRAIN " ... !!! See These Are The People Who Need Their Blood DRAINED ... !!! They ARE The Bloodsuckers Who STEAL From The Sane ... !!! They TALK About TRUTH But Soon HIT The Roof ... !!! When Truth Is Thrown At Them They're QUICK To ABUSE ... !!! "I'll issue court action, I want a Retraction !" ... Well Here Is My View ... These People Are FOOLS .... Who've Got Some Screws LOOSE !!!!! Deal With YOUR ISSUES I've Been In Courtrooms ... Don't EVER ASSUME I'm An IGNORANT **** ... !!!!!! This ISN'T ... Pulp Fiction ... !!! Don't Think I'm ... The Shepherd ... I'm NOT Samuel Jackson I'm Ready For Action ... !!! You Will Be Collapsing When I Start Reacting ... !!! Don't EVER Presume I'm Into ... Play Acting ... !!! I'll Leave That To You And Your Idiot Crew ... !!! Cos' These Are The People Who Don't Give You Clues ... Cos These Are The People Who Simply Aren't TRUE ... !!! They Like Their Doors OPEN ... So They Can Walk Through ... MAN These Are The People ... Who Walk In ... DEAD SHOES ... !!! Now I'm NOT Making Threats ... !!! But On THIS ... You Can Bet ... !!! Messing With Me ... Means You're Messing With DEATH ... !!! Cos' I'm Ready And Willing To Take Your LAST Breath ... Cos' People Like You Are ... Humanity's DREGS ... !!!!! But Enough About THEM ... Society's Phlegm ... !!!!!!!!!!!! Some People ARE NICE These People I Like ... !!! Cos' Some of These People Do Use The Mic RIGHT ... !!!!! They Talk About Things That Affect Peoples' Lives ... Without EVER Thinking Their Wordplay ... DELIGHTS ... These People Are Humble And SHUN Foolish Pride ... !!! Cos' These Are The People ... Who Look DEEP INSIDE ... INSIDE of THEMSELVES And Find Love of The SELF ... Cos' Love of The Self Can Preserve Mental Health ... And Help You To Deal With ... DUD Cards You Get Dealt ... !!!!! These Words Are ........ HEARTFELT ........ !!! Good People DO HELP ... WITHOUT EVER Thinking of Helping THEMSELVES ... !!! Good People Are VITAL For Human Survival ... !!!! This Is Now The Reason I Do These Recitals ... I'm Trying To Put ..... Something GOOD In The CYCLE ... !!! The ... Cycle of Life ..... That Has MANY Good People ... !!! But TOO MANY People Are Now Doing EVIL ... !!!!!! Which Is Why I'm Relating My Views About ........... ......... " People " .........
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111
I found myself fracturing beneath his fists, Beauty beaten in hues of blue, purple and black, Like clouded midnight skies, full of rain. My eyes becoming pools of stars, Glistening with secrets of pain, Shining dully into the darkness of our nights. Saturated with his snide, stingy, cruel colors, I soaked in his venom, Becoming canvas for the art of abuse. And wasn't it beautiful? These tears in skin hindered no smile, Bruises like paint, enhancing face, Pupils shining like diamonds, Rough and worn, but precious. Aching bones breaking to rebuild themselves, Tongue red with biting back curses, Rosy lips curved and sealed against apologies, Flesh as hard and gray as stone, Sharpened against wicked whims and foul words, Aren't I beautiful - In all my rainbow tones?
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Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 10:43 AM UTC
Colors Of The Night - Chris'Nell
The stigma that sensitive people are weak needs to diminish. Just because she feels things down to her bones does not mean she is weak. She carries everything. Her feelings, other people’s feelings, the world around her as she takes it all in. * * * Sensitivity is deemed feeble. Thick-skinned people are the brave ones, right? They have endured so much that they no longer feel anything. Snide remarks, rude comments, and stressful situations roll off their skin like water during a storm. If it’s already pouring, why worry about each droplet? * * * That is the problem, she thought to herself. Are brave people truly brave? No. Brave people are the true cowards. Rather than taking their experiences and feeling them, letting them seep into their bones to become the marrow which fuels their bodies, they shut them away; skeletons in a closet. They have become numb to the baggage they carry at the expense of growing numb to everything else. * * * People around her are merely living in this world, she decided, whereas she was absorbing it. In the spring she lays in the grass, running her fingers through each blade as if it were the Earth’s hair. When summer nights bring a light breeze, she imagines spirits are hugging her. In the fall when it rains, she spreads her arms wide and gazes up to the sky, knowing that each water droplet that falls is Mother Nature peppering her skin with kisses. * * * Others are too preoccupied making sure their skeletons do not peer out of the closet. Strength, after all, is the ability to withstand vast amounts of pressure and God knows how much force those skeletons must bear. * * * In the middle of the night, her father hears her talking to someone, except there is no response. It is as if she is conversing with herself when in actuality, she is conversing with her skeletons. After midnight when others have drifted off to sleep, hoping that their skeletons do not come to haunt them, she is wide awake, her closet door open. She lays in bed and asks her anxiety how it’s day was, laughs at a witty comment that her depression has made about her life, and gives thanks to the insult a bully gave her in the first grade for making her the person she is today. The things that should weigh her down, she has befriended. They come to visit so often, anyways. * * * She wonders how someone who has mastered the art of suppressing their feelings is braver than someone who has mastered the art of acknowledging their feelings. The strength it takes to keep the closet door shut is immense. However, it takes an unsurpassable amount of resilience to carry the world in her heart and soul while still having the courage to open her closet without being afraid of the things that could jump out at her.
0
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
The True Strength of Weakness
The stigma that sensitive people are weak needs to diminish. Just because she feels things down to her bones does not mean she is weak. She carries everything. Her feelings, other people’s feelings, the world around her as she takes it all in. * * * Sensitivity is deemed feeble. Thick-skinned people are the brave ones, right? They have endured so much that they no longer feel anything. Snide remarks, rude comments, and stressful situations roll off their skin like water during a storm. If it’s already pouring, why worry about each droplet? * * * That is the problem, she thought to herself. Are brave people truly brave? No. Brave people are the true cowards. Rather than taking their experiences and feeling them, letting them seep into their bones to become the marrow which fuels their bodies, they shut them away; skeletons in a closet. They have become numb to the baggage they carry at the expense of growing numb to everything else. * * * People around her are merely living in this world, she decided, whereas she was absorbing it. In the spring she lays in the grass, running her fingers through each blade as if it were the Earth’s hair. When summer nights bring a light breeze, she imagines spirits are hugging her. In the fall when it rains, she spreads her arms wide and gazes up to the sky, knowing that each water droplet that falls is Mother Nature peppering her skin with kisses. * * * Others are too preoccupied making sure their skeletons do not peer out of the closet. Strength, after all, is the ability to withstand vast amounts of pressure and God knows how much force those skeletons must bear. * * * In the middle of the night, her father hears her talking to someone, except there is no response. It is as if she is conversing with herself when in actuality, she is conversing with her skeletons. After midnight when others have drifted off to sleep, hoping that their skeletons do not come to haunt them, she is wide awake, her closet door open. She lays in bed and asks her anxiety how it’s day was, laughs at a witty comment that her depression has made about her life, and gives thanks to the insult a bully gave her in the first grade for making her the person she is today. The things that should weigh her down, she has befriended. They come to visit so often, anyways. * * * She wonders how someone who has mastered the art of suppressing their feelings is braver than someone who has mastered the art of acknowledging their feelings. The strength it takes to keep the closet door shut is immense. However, it takes an unsurpassable amount of resilience to carry the world in her heart and soul while still having the courage to open her closet without being afraid of the things that could jump out at her.
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28
400 years America , For 400 years America, we've been playing this game of cat and mouse, and for 400 years America, you refuse to give us the keys to the house. For 400 years America , we've been asking to be free, and for 400 years America , you sat there and you promised me, all the freedom I could ask for , for just a small fee For 400 years America , we've been paying that small fee in sweat, tears and blood For over 400 years America, we have witnessed the flood, from the storm clouds that burst in a black mother's eyes. The Storm that rages in her heart as she cries. The Lightening that strikes her heart as she watches her son bleed as he dies. For over  400 years America , we've had to watch our people bleed , for over 400 years America , you've literally scorched and scathered and destroyed our seed. For over 400 years America our sons, daughters, fathers , mothers have bled and for over 400 years tear after tear was shed The flags that represent you, makes you free . But the same flags that represent you, doesn't represent me. The flag that represents words that say"all men are created equal" considered me an animal and there seemed to never be a sequel. 400 years later and still "no refuge can save, the hireling and slave from the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave" I am not blind, don't need a stick or a stave, I am not foolish, I see the road that you have paved America! For over 400 years, America, My brothers and sisters have fought for your pride We carried your rifles, we lifted your flag and still you were snide For over 400 years America, for you battles we've won 400 year later you still point your gun It's been 400 years America, Gotdammit I am not a slave I want my rights and you will not tell me how to behave! You've always had freedom white man, and you don't know how bad I crave! that my kids grow up in freedom and for that I'll be brave to the grave. Even if it kills me, I will not let the color of my skin decide whether or not I win. I will not you let, America, and your adulterous, heinous sin control me and the condition I am in 400 years later America, and you act like you still don't know their names 400 years later America and you still plea ignorance, you don't feel their pains Emmit Till, Trayvon Martin, Freddie Gray These are some of the lives from us you took away 400 years later and you still make us pay and that's not okay.... To you slavery was yesterday and we should shout free at last? To you the last police shooting was last week, we shouldn't riot,  it's in the past, You want us white washed but we can't shake the scars from centuries in a caste Freedom isn't free, but I still believe, I still believe that someday my eyes will see, all nations, all skin colors under one tree, connected to one vine, to the divine
0
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 8:13 AM UTC
400 Years
400 years America , For 400 years America, we've been playing this game of cat and mouse, and for 400 years America, you refuse to give us the keys to the house. For 400 years America , we've been asking to be free, and for 400 years America , you sat there and you promised me, all the freedom I could ask for , for just a small fee For 400 years America , we've been paying that small fee in sweat, tears and blood For over 400 years America, we have witnessed the flood, from the storm clouds that burst in a black mother's eyes. The Storm that rages in her heart as she cries. The Lightening that strikes her heart as she watches her son bleed as he dies. For over  400 years America , we've had to watch our people bleed , for over 400 years America , you've literally scorched and scathered and destroyed our seed. For over 400 years America our sons, daughters, fathers , mothers have bled and for over 400 years tear after tear was shed The flags that represent you, makes you free . But the same flags that represent you, doesn't represent me. The flag that represents words that say"all men are created equal" considered me an animal and there seemed to never be a sequel. 400 years later and still "no refuge can save, the hireling and slave from the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave" I am not blind, don't need a stick or a stave, I am not foolish, I see the road that you have paved America! For over 400 years, America, My brothers and sisters have fought for your pride We carried your rifles, we lifted your flag and still you were snide For over 400 years America, for you battles we've won 400 year later you still point your gun It's been 400 years America, Gotdammit I am not a slave I want my rights and you will not tell me how to behave! You've always had freedom white man, and you don't know how bad I crave! that my kids grow up in freedom and for that I'll be brave to the grave. Even if it kills me, I will not let the color of my skin decide whether or not I win. I will not you let, America, and your adulterous, heinous sin control me and the condition I am in 400 years later America, and you act like you still don't know their names 400 years later America and you still plea ignorance, you don't feel their pains Emmit Till, Trayvon Martin, Freddie Gray These are some of the lives from us you took away 400 years later and you still make us pay and that's not okay.... To you slavery was yesterday and we should shout free at last? To you the last police shooting was last week, we shouldn't riot,  it's in the past, You want us white washed but we can't shake the scars from centuries in a caste Freedom isn't free, but I still believe, I still believe that someday my eyes will see, all nations, all skin colors under one tree, connected to one vine, to the divine
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25
The entitled ones: Snotty, stuck up, rude Nasty, spoiled prudes Your misery, their fun Loosen up your buns, entitled ones ‘Cause I am in no mood To harbor your attitude And snooty snippy sayings sung The desk between us that which divides Does not right you to be snide Entitled ones need not apply Entitled are entitled nigh The ones who earn entitlement Are the ones who give respect Possessors of this enlightenment Such respect is what they’ll get Treat your servers as you will with such level of pomposity But understand that I abide by way of reciprocity
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Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
The Nasty Customer
sit and listen to the quiet it's outside the christmas norm because now, when all is silent it's the calm before the storm the kids are upstairs sleeping you're resting, sitting with a drink in a few hours ...storms a brewing it'll push you to the brink the kids are up and yelling paper wrapping all around until the house is empty no more rest today is found the kids are outside playing hockey games out on the drive you just look around and wonder if the day you will survive next, arrive the in-laws re-gifting what you gave last year and good old uncle charlie bee-lining for the beer bad jokes and boring stories arguements about the past snide comments and back handers how long will this all last you sneak outside for a quick drink grab a smoke on the back porch if it wasn't your house they were in the whole **** thing you'd torch phony smiles and airy kisses and the folks are on their way the storm is almost over for another Christmas Day the kids are in and up in bed there is silence once again the calm once more before the storm tomorrow, your folks come at ten!!!!
0
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC
calm before the storm
My hand became yours in marriage My mind and soul remained mine Your family should have become mine My family became yours Was it that you were the first born? First born son I was also a first born First born daughter Your mother's talons had dug in deep Not in you but me Every look she gave Every snide remark I tried nice, I tried too hard I showed my talons, and my talons were sharper I cut deep, like a bird of prey After all mother in law, remember Only the bride wears white And a man is a son until he meets his wife.
0
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
Talon
I long to move away. From the fighting and the noise, From the never ending mess, Of clothes and dishes. From responsibility and and rules That restrict my life. I long to move away. From the sly stares and the snide comments, Of the ones who are out to destroy. I long to move away. From their skeptical glances And negative language Which drives me insane . I long to move away. From the mirror; From the tired eyes that judge me more than any others. From the stranger that continues to stare back. I long to move away.
0
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
Longing
Pretty (adj): 1. pleasing or attractive to the eye, as by delicacy or gracefulness; "Pretty" is a word that's been spewed at you since the day you were born, A social standard set upon you that you had yet to even hear, but it was being used to describe you instantly; A "pretty little girl", a "pretty face", "pretty eyes", "pretty smile", "pretty outfit", Did anyone ever stop to wonder if you'd have a pretty soul? What about the way you could be brought to tears at the thought of shaming homeless people or victims of abuse, how your heart felt like it was ripping out of your chest when you heard about someone who was struggling, They didn't seem to care that you tested highest in compassion, they just wanted to know where you got your dress from. As you grew older the adjective turned from an innocent compliment to what seemed like a snide remark, The word "pretty" began to eat you from the inside out every time it was said like you should measure your worth in how delicate others find you; You stopped accepting "pretty" as a compliment when it turned into an adjective that was only associated with girls that were more than average but less than beautiful, You stopped accepting "pretty" as a compliment when it became an antonym of strong, like "pretty" girls were things that would break if you talked too loud, as if loving a "pretty" thing could never be synonymous with loving a durable or sturdy or resilient thing. D.A. Sharp once said "You weren't meant to be pretty; you were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. Don't let anyone ever simplify you to just "pretty"." And so when someone kindly placed the word in a sentence referring to you you learned to automatically put it into quotations because they were just trying to be nice, They didn't know they were reducing you to outer beauty, that "pretty" seemed less like a compliment the more it was said, like people couldn't figure out another way to describe you, As if God hadn't already intricately woven the threads of your DNA, as if he hadn't perfectly tinted every hair on your head to be its crisp burnt color or hand painted the irises of your eyes, No, "pretty" could no longer cut it. Because you had been made for bigger and better things, Those "pretty" eyes of yours will one day see things that God hadn't originally intended anyone to have to see, and those "pretty" hands of yours will have to pick up the pieces of a heartache that God had never wanted you to know and put them back together, and those "pretty" lips of yours are the same lips that will stand in front of sin and tell it that you have chosen Jesus. Because "pretty" is fine, but you have been fearfully and wonderfully made, a masterpiece of the Creator.
0
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
Pretty
Pretty (adj): 1. pleasing or attractive to the eye, as by delicacy or gracefulness; "Pretty" is a word that's been spewed at you since the day you were born, A social standard set upon you that you had yet to even hear, but it was being used to describe you instantly; A "pretty little girl", a "pretty face", "pretty eyes", "pretty smile", "pretty outfit", Did anyone ever stop to wonder if you'd have a pretty soul? What about the way you could be brought to tears at the thought of shaming homeless people or victims of abuse, how your heart felt like it was ripping out of your chest when you heard about someone who was struggling, They didn't seem to care that you tested highest in compassion, they just wanted to know where you got your dress from. As you grew older the adjective turned from an innocent compliment to what seemed like a snide remark, The word "pretty" began to eat you from the inside out every time it was said like you should measure your worth in how delicate others find you; You stopped accepting "pretty" as a compliment when it turned into an adjective that was only associated with girls that were more than average but less than beautiful, You stopped accepting "pretty" as a compliment when it became an antonym of strong, like "pretty" girls were things that would break if you talked too loud, as if loving a "pretty" thing could never be synonymous with loving a durable or sturdy or resilient thing. D.A. Sharp once said "You weren't meant to be pretty; you were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. Don't let anyone ever simplify you to just "pretty"." And so when someone kindly placed the word in a sentence referring to you you learned to automatically put it into quotations because they were just trying to be nice, They didn't know they were reducing you to outer beauty, that "pretty" seemed less like a compliment the more it was said, like people couldn't figure out another way to describe you, As if God hadn't already intricately woven the threads of your DNA, as if he hadn't perfectly tinted every hair on your head to be its crisp burnt color or hand painted the irises of your eyes, No, "pretty" could no longer cut it. Because you had been made for bigger and better things, Those "pretty" eyes of yours will one day see things that God hadn't originally intended anyone to have to see, and those "pretty" hands of yours will have to pick up the pieces of a heartache that God had never wanted you to know and put them back together, and those "pretty" lips of yours are the same lips that will stand in front of sin and tell it that you have chosen Jesus. Because "pretty" is fine, but you have been fearfully and wonderfully made, a masterpiece of the Creator.
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24
I dream of a society Where the ideals of beauty Are less focused on superficial concepts like one's waistline Or how decrepit their smile lines made them appear But rather one where the focal point of unanimous adoration is, As corny as this may sound, One's morals and where they land on the gradient of human compassion In this utopia, The elderly aren't seen as catalysts for repugnance and a wrinkling of noses But rather as symbols of eruditeness and beauty The type of beauty that influence or money can't obtain And it may be conceivable that instead of wasting my days squandering over my physical appearance, I can just fritter away the days Strumming my ukulele along to the tune of my American dream For I have yet to actually awaken from my adolescent slumber Breifly enough to grasp my dream from the bubble floating above my resting head And nestle it securely in my pocket So it doesn't forgo me In search of someone less complacent with bewilderment about their future Who dreams of social and economic prosperity Instead of someone who's apathetic at best about whatever career choice they've chosen for the week Maybe that's just it That maybe I don't want the conventional American dream of fame or fortune or recognition Is it feasible that maybe my American dream isn't to rise from sqaulor into a soulless mansion Whose corridors boast success But lack warmth and presence? I suppose that my American dream encompasses more than just America itself It lives in the eyes of every human being on the face of the earth It's nestled in the gaze of a starving child And the stare of anyone who's ever felt a tongue's razor edge And all I'd have to do is delve into their eye sockets and plant a seed A seed of hope and compassion Or whatever I deem fit Perhaps I just want to shield myself From the world's disapproving glances, Those fleeting moments of eye contact that convey condescending judgement Maybe I'd just like to make a difference to things sans the media’s snide opinion But despite my juxtaposition to society's critical assessments, I know that I can't run away from my fears or problems So maybe I dream of a society Where I can remain headstrong even in the face of opposition Because I'm aware that not everyone's going to love each other And spout sweet nothings about peace and understanding from their hind quarters So maybe I'd like to help be a driving force That wards off the world's shadows So the sun can continue to shine on my American dream
0
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC
Dare I Fathom Dreaming of an American Dream?
I dream of a society Where the ideals of beauty Are less focused on superficial concepts like one's waistline Or how decrepit their smile lines made them appear But rather one where the focal point of unanimous adoration is, As corny as this may sound, One's morals and where they land on the gradient of human compassion In this utopia, The elderly aren't seen as catalysts for repugnance and a wrinkling of noses But rather as symbols of eruditeness and beauty The type of beauty that influence or money can't obtain And it may be conceivable that instead of wasting my days squandering over my physical appearance, I can just fritter away the days Strumming my ukulele along to the tune of my American dream For I have yet to actually awaken from my adolescent slumber Breifly enough to grasp my dream from the bubble floating above my resting head And nestle it securely in my pocket So it doesn't forgo me In search of someone less complacent with bewilderment about their future Who dreams of social and economic prosperity Instead of someone who's apathetic at best about whatever career choice they've chosen for the week Maybe that's just it That maybe I don't want the conventional American dream of fame or fortune or recognition Is it feasible that maybe my American dream isn't to rise from sqaulor into a soulless mansion Whose corridors boast success But lack warmth and presence? I suppose that my American dream encompasses more than just America itself It lives in the eyes of every human being on the face of the earth It's nestled in the gaze of a starving child And the stare of anyone who's ever felt a tongue's razor edge And all I'd have to do is delve into their eye sockets and plant a seed A seed of hope and compassion Or whatever I deem fit Perhaps I just want to shield myself From the world's disapproving glances, Those fleeting moments of eye contact that convey condescending judgement Maybe I'd just like to make a difference to things sans the media’s snide opinion But despite my juxtaposition to society's critical assessments, I know that I can't run away from my fears or problems So maybe I dream of a society Where I can remain headstrong even in the face of opposition Because I'm aware that not everyone's going to love each other And spout sweet nothings about peace and understanding from their hind quarters So maybe I'd like to help be a driving force That wards off the world's shadows So the sun can continue to shine on my American dream
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46
A leer leapt across his face, it was not a surf smirk that rolls up from coral cheeks, but a snide smile that surprised everyone there. Coffee shop stopped and halted, for this man fell to his knees and asked to wed, a girlfriend of small brunette proportions, whom sat next to him basking in good fortune. Golden orbit of metal bound and knit, graced her finger, slipped down the knuckle, fused to the skin as every buckle ever worn. For these two would make it, sworn to mourn when the other fell.
0
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 9:44 AM UTC
SMALL BRUNETTE PROPORTIONS
Weeaboo. Owning this geeky word was not something I immediately understood. Coming from a school where geeks were castaways, with Otaku and weeb being even worse terms than that. But now she, who loves video games, and cartoons - a geek herself, dare I say, - calls me a not only a weeaboo, a term revered here, but a failed one. Many references I lack to see, My circle of watched media is constrained, me being the picky geek that I may be. The simple act of putting on fluffy ears that I deem kawaii, She takes as the action of a 'furry'. I rarely see memes, something that not only geeks look at, but social media as well, yet she acts as though it lies within the domain of otakus. Saying ohauyo, tadima, or even simply arigato, gives me a snide reply of, "freaking weeb" Making pebbles into boulders is her specialty.
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Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 8:49 PM UTC
Pebbles into Boulders
My iguana girlfriend Cold-blooded with a warm heart I think about her freezing skin Whenever we're apart She rubs her feet up and down my legs To warm them in the night It tickles a bit, but I don't care In fact it's quite alright 'Cause if it helps to warm her up I'll let her carry on I'd rather let her rub cold feet on me Than wonder where she's gone My iguana girlfriend She's certainly no snake Everything she says is real There ain't no room for fake She's definitely not a crocodile She don't cry no fake tears If water ever leaves her eyes You know she needs you near She's certainly no chameleon Her colour stays the same She doesn't hide, she's never snide And honesty is her game My iguana girlfriend I love her one hundred bazillion And even though she's an iguana She's in no way at all reptilian There's nothing that could change my mind Your means wouldn't be justified by your ends There's nothing at all on earth that could separate Me and my iguana girlfriend
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Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
My Iguana Girlfriend
Goodbye enemies talking and stalking I never knew you while you spoke rearranging truth snide comments rude ideas toxic seeds in infertile soil planted deep without water dried without roots Goodbye enemies branches without leaves leaves without life rotting designs molding fruits twisting reality wildest roots lifting up houses poisoning mine Goodbye enemies smirk and stare I don't care I never knew you and you never knew me trauma bonding at my expense a primitive mindset but no drums or pretty colors or life-fortifying culture dried and dead Goodbye enemies
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
Goodbye Enemies
We've climbed this mountain A mountain of homework and back stabber We may not have climbed together for all of it But we climbed together side by side now All the people trying to tear us down or drag us off But we won't let the other fall we keep each other on the path We've climbed this mountain We can see the end But our enemies can see us So near the top we threaten them They take aim attempting to knock us off Insults and snide remarks fly at us like bullets Violence always creeping towards us a dog of war We have been civil far to long to these brutes of failure We strike back now The harder they hit us the harder we hit back The mountain of high school is almost over we're not falling now Take aim my brother with your ****** rifle aimed at their deepest weakness Locked and loaded to tear them apart in front of everyone To rip their heart out for all to see Don't worry I've got your back My machine gun of cynical secrets gleaming for support. They won't drag us down They can't pull us back down We're at the top and moving on from this high school warfare
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Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 4:12 PM UTC
Highschool Warfare
Velvet touch; scarlet passion Shake me down, blissful you Wrap me in security A fine embrace will do Fill my void with your masculinity, Harmony and adoration Firmly grasp me with your voice Let’s speak without anticipation Selfishness and selflessness; Opposites will surely attract I’m unable to douse your flickering flame I’m full of emotion you can’t extract Scratch my shell with your snide remarks, I’ll feed the ego that fiends I’ll shower you with infatuation; Satisfy all of your emotional needs I hold you in my heart with high regards, though you caused it much ache You swept me off my feet last Spring I failed to feel the ground beneath me quake The escape to a distant plane was easily the best We held each other’s hand until we laid to rest No barriers between us, no confidence to wound I dreamt of you so often; it all ended too soon
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Aug 19, 2011
Aug 19, 2011 at 10:56 PM UTC
The Crab and the Lion
Humble gestures of chasten Crumbling meek shifts to jotted chivalry Into wrongly seemed semi-finite basins Grim faces accused by chromo authority fault at last by accursed impalement days into mourn and far bliss and darkness zeal in snide basements thawed searing into crest how is chaos' show Humble gestures of chasten Crumbling meek shifts to jotted chivalry Into wrongly seemed semi-finite basins Grim faces accused by chromo authority fault at last by accursed impalement days into mourn and far bliss and darkness zeal in snide basements thawed searing into crest how is chaos' show deepened to cyro void gone to confluence row Yearned by those overjoyed and quip smith's crooked dagger lanced from pure ways pride into back alley's sober goodbye love of sparked days deepened to cyro void gone to confluence row Yearned by those overjoyed and quip smith's crooked dagger lanced from pure ways pride into back alley's sober goodbye love of sparked days
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Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
Villain's Role
Oh the coworker the unadulterated unparalleled utterly useless, coworker I love the way your eyes light up while staring at your phone I adore the way you inspire action through your inaction I admire the way your attention to detail is seen through your snide remarks Oh coworker I aspire to attain your level of not giving ****
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Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 4:42 PM UTC
Ode to the Coworker
Terrifying façade, long and tall, overpowering but frail. Ready to crumble and fall. Snide wire intertwined, exit wounds in the concrete flesh. Each thorn stood to attention, unwelcoming guards of the now unwanted. Block after block of relentless alleyways, like a labyrinth of colossal gravestones. The sky opens. Water rattles bullet-like, upon the once majestic city walls. The cathedral moans its last hymn as the steeple betrays itself. The descent prevails.
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Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 10:57 AM UTC
Urbis est
I like to listen to people complain about the things which for some reason they take seriously I like to make snide sarcastic remarks which makes their problems seem futile just ******** and moaning I find it amusing I'm an ******* though.
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Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
complaints and grievances
Pebbles thrown at me felt like boulders weighing me down. But eventually I picked them up and made a path on the ground with them, and now little snide remarks about my style feelings, and attitude are through. Yeah- you left me with some ammo I can use.
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Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
Pebbles
A sneer, A snide remark graces your skin, Tingling despite the smile. I'm disgusted. I'm irate. I'm alive and burning with rage. I'm storming. Clouds gather At my fingertips, Clouds gather at my Lips. The lower Are troubled, Churning and spurning The gentle hand That often lies. The upper are Sweet, soft, Cotton candy Falsities, Covering up any memory Of personal taste, Of individuality. I exist to please. I'm a saucy Sort of servant. I'm disgusted. I'm irate. I'm alive and Burning with rage. I'm forming. Forming infinitesimally Tiny shapes, Bits of broken Anger and slander Printed fresh like A book. Smaller and smaller The pieces will shrink, Pushed away Into The farthest Corner of my cortex. Flash, Bam, And with a puff of smoke It's almost gone. I'm a magician. I'm disgusted. I'm irate. I'm whatever You please. I'm cotton candy Shit-sticking, White and pliable; Olive will give away If you just keep hitting. I'm disgusted. I'm irate. I'm barely hanging on. I'm burning With rage. But, I'm alive. Yes, I'm alive.
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Aug 14, 2010
Aug 14, 2010 at 11:20 AM UTC
Burning
"Tout aux tavernes et aux filles." Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack? Or fake the broads? or fig a nag? Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack? Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag? Suppose you duff? or nose and lag? Or get the straight, and land your *** How do you melt the multy swag? ***** and the blowens cop the lot. Fiddle, or fence, or mace, or mack; Or moskeneer, or flash the drag; Dead-lurk a crib, or do a crack; Pad with a slang, or chuck a *** Bonnet, or tout, or mump and gag; Rattle the tats, or mark the spot; You can not bank a single stag; ***** and the blowens cop the lot. Suppose you try a different tack, And on the square you flash your flag? At penny-a-lining make your whack, Or with the mummers mug and gag? For nix, for nix the dibbs you bag! At any graft, no matter what, Your merry goblins soon stravag: ***** and the blowens cop the lot. THE MORAL It's up the spout and Charley Wag With wipes and tickers and what not. Until the squeezer nips your scrag, ***** and the blowens cop the lot.
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2.6k
Villon's Straight Tip To All Cross Coves
I’m fragile and snide She hasn’t died I refuse to believe She’s star side. I’m her best memory Warmth magnified I stand in the rain Hands by my side. I’m the last raindrop in the sky I’m the last tear in her eye. I’m the reason she cries I’m the last to sigh. I’m a dry and empty well I’m cracked inside I suffer alone She isn’t alive. I’m the last raindrop in the sky I’m the last tear in her eye. I’m the reason she cries I’m the last to sigh. I’m a fallen leaf She carried me. She was the wind Sustaining. I’m a dim light Warmth petrified. I stand by her grave Hands by my side. I’m the last raindrop in the sky I’m the last tear in her eye. I’m torn and tried I’m the last to sigh. I’m the last raindrop in the sky I’m the last tear in her eye. I’m shaken inside I’m the last to sigh. 19th July 2017
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Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 4:39 AM UTC
The Last Raindrop In The Sky (long version)