"snif" poems
She sat there empty
Trying to hide
What she's feeling inside
She says she's all alone
She said the world ∂σєѕη'т even know
About the pain she hides
Happiness is just a lie
When all she wants to do is die
So she takes a snif and fly
into a world you and ι deny
She ∂σєѕη'т want the world to know the truth
She's been broken and abused
And she was always used
BY you
Your words echo in her mind
And your words are clear
She knows that you are here
After she takes the blade and watches the blood trickle down her skin
Feeling relieved from her pain
She thinks she's going insane
And its not even a game
While her eyes are still heLd shut
She can hear you breathing softly
After another 20 minutes of pain
All her screams and shouts fade
Like they ωєяєη'т even there
This world ιѕη'т fair
Her fear is built by you
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 8:48 AM UTC
Wage-slave, renter, debt-ower doer
of nothing now, but consumption
- I consume power
- I use power another might
- I listen to the news, I seldom read
I tried, I tried, said the tennis worker,
whose name caught my ear-
Stefanos Tsitsipas, sounds
like Sisyphus, my happy
reminder.
We push our way
to new places, or we may
pay our pointy gnosis snif ifery
attention to sign-if-icant curiosis
need, to know way to go. At tend to,
that, we all need that
one thing,
one needful thing, one thing
we do,
that none other may do, we
see one thing- this is me, my bit of us,
we bubble with joy when doing this,
doing this, and that,
another doing that,
and, indeed, we do as we
see one thing…
form
a point to life, poetry, the mythic force.
Eustacy, joy's veritable power,
swells with a feeling now called pride.
Joy is not the pride that comes
before the fall.
Joy, heartfelt,
next-worldly joy, you know,
Joy bell bubbling soul joy,
sensational, subtle, so soft sometimes,
whispers wish wish wish
sweep away the first formed fear, now,
know the need to know
is not a treasure to be horded
omagod.. jagonnasayit jesu
save us, all the treasures, cried to the priest,
the host, cried out to Na'amah,
some tales tell,
is it true?
--maybe, but, it's a retell of a retold tale,
--In this story, Na'amah is Noah's wife,
-- she who bhor alone the knacks of Cain
--- live lyve liv e set free for future use
--- gibberish, you wish, but future use
telley-osis-echo-ist ping ping ping
scrub jay emphasizes, earth time, listen
there are maybes that never are,
scrub jay saying, here am I, there are you,
this is what we do.
-- then a breeze of if-I-knew asked me for a lift.
Jun 14, 2021
Jun 14, 2021 at 2:56 PM UTC