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"snubbing" poems
The Pill Called up big Pharma, Sad and depressed, I told them straight out: Dudes, I need a new karma. *NO problem they cheerfully replied, (later I wondered, which pill they were on) We custom make, haute couture, drug-design, Mood enhancers, in little canisters, You need only supply the cash and the system vascular! Your soul's desire? To be a better wilder, rambler, Or a life calmer, better anchored?* I know what I want, exactly, A pill that removes Specific words From the frontal lobe temple Verbal storage center. *NO problem! (so cheery it was kinda scary) Which words would you like to have Exorcised, annihilated, irradiated, confiscated?* I list from below, from side to side, Let not one be denied, Bury them all in nether-lands, Swamp them under mountains of Granite and sand, Banish them from my lexicon. How much do you charge? But one dollar per word. The list I emailed complete, Herein I reprint. Scars Pain Wound Strain Torture Anguish Disfigure Damage Mar Mutilate Maim Blemish Deface Damage Ruin Distress Afflict Trouble Wound Torment Agonize Sad Suffer Sting Throb Torture Torment Despair Suffer Distress Hurt Vex Trouble Ache Hurt Misery Woe Bitterness Misery Agony Bitter Heartache Afflict Hurt Cut Loathing Shatter Broken Alone Bleed Struggle Self-destruct Monster Nightmare Cornered Darkness Horror Loner Confused Goodbye Suicide Slash Cut Desolate Submerge Dissipate Dead Stinking Enough. Awaiting my concoction sweet, When an answer they begat, A response forthcoming, indeed was snubbing! **Dear Sir/Madam, We regret to inform you that we are unable to manufacture Said item.  Removal of these words would be a violation of Federal Poetry Laws. Sadly yours, Big Pharma P.S. Are you the author of "Yo! Yo! Warning: the government is reading your poetry! (Metadata Mining This Site) on HP?"** P.P.S.  Please do not contact us anymore.
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Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
The Pill
The Pill Called up big Pharma, Sad and depressed, I told them straight out: Dudes, I need a new karma. *NO problem they cheerfully replied, (later I wondered, which pill they were on) We custom make, haute couture, drug-design, Mood enhancers, in little canisters, You need only supply the cash and the system vascular! Your soul's desire? To be a better wilder, rambler, Or a life calmer, better anchored?* I know what I want, exactly, A pill that removes Specific words From the frontal lobe temple Verbal storage center. *NO problem! (so cheery it was kinda scary) Which words would you like to have Exorcised, annihilated, irradiated, confiscated?* I list from below, from side to side, Let not one be denied, Bury them all in nether-lands, Swamp them under mountains of Granite and sand, Banish them from my lexicon. How much do you charge? But one dollar per word. The list I emailed complete, Herein I reprint. Scars Pain Wound Strain Torture Anguish Disfigure Damage Mar Mutilate Maim Blemish Deface Damage Ruin Distress Afflict Trouble Wound Torment Agonize Sad Suffer Sting Throb Torture Torment Despair Suffer Distress Hurt Vex Trouble Ache Hurt Misery Woe Bitterness Misery Agony Bitter Heartache Afflict Hurt Cut Loathing Shatter Broken Alone Bleed Struggle Self-destruct Monster Nightmare Cornered Darkness Horror Loner Confused Goodbye Suicide Slash Cut Desolate Submerge Dissipate Dead Stinking Enough. Awaiting my concoction sweet, When an answer they begat, A response forthcoming, indeed was snubbing! **Dear Sir/Madam, We regret to inform you that we are unable to manufacture Said item.  Removal of these words would be a violation of Federal Poetry Laws. Sadly yours, Big Pharma P.S. Are you the author of "Yo! Yo! Warning: the government is reading your poetry! (Metadata Mining This Site) on HP?"** P.P.S.  Please do not contact us anymore.
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I’m from hopelessness, Where self-mutilation looks classy. I’m from defenselessness, Where bruises turn red instead. I’m from the Land of Oz, Where the long winding road seems endless. My glittery shoes seem broken though. I’m stuck in a world I don’t deserve. My sorrow evident, my suffering clear. Life’s not so bad when your living in fear. I’m from frustration and envy, I just don’t know why. A comfortable lifestyle is easy to come by. Stuffed bear by my side, he swallows my tears. I’m from the moments I spend, hiding away. I sympathize with Rosaline, How was she to know? Snubbing Romeo would be so disastrous. Or Snow White, so close to death; Yanked back by an uninvited kiss.
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Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
Where I'm From
The Last Priest smiled his blessing indiscriminately, bridging, seeding, building a new priesthood beyond borders, across tribes, ignoring gender, discounting class, blind to race, snubbing rank, denying privilege and preferring a new holy nationality for refugees for stateless souls like mine - like ours
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Oct 5, 2023
Oct 5, 2023 at 5:11 AM UTC
The last priest
King of the park is my little paper lion he struts his stuff like he owns the world prowls and growls rubbing and snubbing while he eats from is little pink bowl But he is KING!! king in his own back yard his eyes amber and black as he stealthily creeps beautifully lean prowling unseen dangerously mean ever so fluffy and oh so virile so powerful too leaving his mark rubbing the bark so very King! *'So watch me human, watch me be magnificent as i pounce on this butterfly'* "yes.. you are a magnificient derp nugget" Oh but he does have a nasty streak attack and retreat spitting and clawing meowing and mawing as his grey fur stands on end and bristles like a bottle brush and the lazy lion thing is lazily lounging after a busy night on the town spreading his affection in every direction he is now king of the chair king of the cushion he is declared triumphantly throughout the land fanfare please "THE SOFA KING .. all hail the SOFA KING!"(annoying feline) oh dear.. my little paper lion.. believing he is king king of the jungle 'But i am king! aren't i human? okay well, just of the park maybe but i am a little bit king- ish.... aren't i?' silly little pouty McWhiskerface what a pity fluffy little kitty just make your self pretty pouting and sulking "Now that is no way for a king to behave now let me fluff your cushion while you drink your milk and eat your Dreamies"
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
Paper lion :o3
computers gone bananas it's driving me insane the pages scrolling up and down then down and up again replying to the poems is taking me an age I click onto the comment box go to another page....:o( so if I'm seeming tardy please do not take offence it isn't that I'm snubbing you comps down is my defence
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Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 8:37 PM UTC
what the....
I see your enchanting beauty Closing my eyes Hear your melodious tunes Plugging my ears Praise your love and compassion Shutting my mouth Smell your divine fragrance Snubbing my nose Sense your magnanimity Untouched Reach and merge in you Unaided All I need is your blessing To qualify myself Oh my Lord! I Owe You.
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Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
IOU
The Last Priest smiled his blessings indiscriminately bridging seeding building a new priesthood beyond borders across tribes ignoring gender discounting class blind to race snubbing rank denying privilege and preferring a new holy nationality for refugees for stateless souls like mine - like ours
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Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 4:37 AM UTC
The Last Priest
Sleep beguiling, calling, reaching, Wondrous imaginings therein reside; Cobwebs stretching, fingers petting If only I could have that precious sleep denied. Where would it take me, race me, free me? Glorious if there within I could abide; caverns hidden, breakers ridden If only I could have that precious sleep denied. What would I find there, be there, do there? Magnificent adventures certainly implied; queens dethroned, spells intoned If only I could but have that precious sleep denied. Instead I stay here, stuck here, caught here, Neither tasting nor seeing those miraculously supplied; sockets rubbing, bed sheets snubbing Longing for that precious sleep denied…
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Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 7:48 PM UTC
All-Nighters
You don't know me, how could you when I've not allowed you in You don't know me how could you with walls so high You'd be fool to try climbing there built for reasons unbeknownst to you it's even a mystery to me. I've built & built for so long never stopping proddled along for so many years propelled in a direction I don't know nor do I wish to stop for if I'd stopped You'd conquer me. You don't know me how could you when I've not allowed you in You don't know me how could you with walls so high You'd be fool to try climbing over. I have no desires to be pained by love's sharp tongue fists um-trusting lust or by love's outward snubbing words OF how it can do better I don't need love's pity or it's sorrow-filled rejections. Love's my down fall by it's lies of A happily ever after which I've never seen or ever glimpsed. So NO no thank you to the many fools who'd try to climb these walls I've built. For I have NO wish of ever being conquered! Always Me Ayeshah ™ ® K.A.C.L.N © All right reserved ® Copyright 1977 - Present ©
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Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
Conquered
The Last Priest smiled his blessings indiscriminately, bridging, building a new priesthood beyond borders, across tribes ignoring gender, discounting class blind to race, snubbing rank, denying privilege and preferring a new holy nationality for refugees, for stateless souls like mine - like ours
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Jan 24, 2025
Jan 24, 2025 at 3:31 PM UTC
The Last Priest
Deep seated pain that pulls at the strings of the heart Harrows the mind with grotesque music Which mimics the voices of a thousand groaning ghosts Reducing the afflicted one to a silent madness Lost in thoughts riddled with the images of a life of twisted torture And eyes staring fixedly into nothing, as it seems, as tears flow freely To mourn a life that will not pass Now craving death, could it be the answer? Back and forth within herself the questions resonate How will this end? Will an end of this be ever known to me? And instead of answers she only hears the echoing gong Of an unsoundly noise so utterly disheartening that The emptiness of it gnaws into her spirit Snubbing out whatever light is left to show for any memory of happiness So that even the fleeting curl of a smile is but a hopeless longing for her face A paling canvass etched with the likeness of misery
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
MISERY
Those folks They cry about forgotten love As though it's a thing of yesterday We all snicker at their naiveté For it is known their love cares little So cry on, little poet, cry your little heart out But you achieve nothing Those folks They weep as though they're wounded Yelling wolf about some depression What's got you down? Some advice Maybe stop taking yourself so seriously Poems about how hard it is from noblemen You've never seen the Tysa overflow Those folks Crying over your mother like a child So what if she is dead? Shouting to the rest of us like some imbecile Crazed upon the perch of suicide When it is just a woman who birthed you Why, mine didn't even love me Those folks Singing odes to addiction Be it hiding behind drugs or alcohol Snubbing your face with powder Locking yourselves in your room Suspended bodies of privilege Crying about hardship Those folks Who have never been attacked by their own mind Assaulted by their trusted Tricked by those they loved Who've never seen a man take his life Or heard someone get shot And think they've been through it all Those folks Who have never heard the true songs The real notes of reality pass them by Hide from the world all you want But those prophets were once right And if you had listened you might know But you just assumed you're as smart You folks With your upper-class ***** Your cliques of conceit and deceit Those godforsaken silver windows You've never seen it rain like it does You've never seen the fire in the forest So quiet down, you good-for-nothing son of a *****
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Feb 26, 2020
Feb 26, 2020 at 1:08 PM UTC
Those Folks
Those folks They cry about forgotten love As though it's a thing of yesterday We all snicker at their naiveté For it is known their love cares little So cry on, little poet, cry your little heart out But you achieve nothing Those folks They weep as though they're wounded Yelling wolf about some depression What's got you down? Some advice Maybe stop taking yourself so seriously Poems about how hard it is from noblemen You've never seen the Tysa overflow Those folks Crying over your mother like a child So what if she is dead? Shouting to the rest of us like some imbecile Crazed upon the perch of suicide When it is just a woman who birthed you Why, mine didn't even love me Those folks Singing odes to addiction Be it hiding behind drugs or alcohol Snubbing your face with powder Locking yourselves in your room Suspended bodies of privilege Crying about hardship Those folks Who have never been attacked by their own mind Assaulted by their trusted Tricked by those they loved Who've never seen a man take his life Or heard someone get shot And think they've been through it all Those folks Who have never heard the true songs The real notes of reality pass them by Hide from the world all you want But those prophets were once right And if you had listened you might know But you just assumed you're as smart You folks With your upper-class ***** Your cliques of conceit and deceit Those godforsaken silver windows You've never seen it rain like it does You've never seen the fire in the forest So quiet down, you good-for-nothing son of a *****
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