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Maja Klit Jun 2015
Målet er at ramme flaskebunden.
Derefter sættes samme mål.

REPEAT REPEAT REPEAT
(Det er blevet normens faste procedure)

Målet er at være stilikonet. Tiltrække gade fotograferne. Genvejen til de fem minutters berømmelse.

KNIPS KNIPS KNIPS
(Det hele er blevet en farverolade)

Målet er at pisse byen gul. Urban gødning er vel det rette ord når køen til de røde bokse er for lang.

SSH SSH SSH
(Kan ikke længere se forskel på øl tis vand)

Målet er at score. Så mange singler samlet med håbløse forventninger.

SUT MIG SUT MIG SUT MIG
( Det er det nærmeste de kan komme kærlighed)

Målet er at have en fest. Sild i tønder til hjernedøde beats.

BASS DROP BASS DROP BASS DROP
(Når de gode endelig kommer til lukkes festen af de euforiseredes konsekvenser)
a play date for us

Your serious eyes

i know You just

want this prize

trying to find a way

to make me play?

suckin' on my neck

while i try to deflect

rubbin' on my belly

tryin' to get me ready

hot lips on my shoulder

yea..

making me bolder

****..Your hands on my collar

hot breath on my ear

i need to holler

You Ssh... nothing to fear

using all Your senses

those commands You speak

to break my defenses

oh ****!

i'm so **** weak

and..delicious thoughts

i'm having about You

about rope, around me

one, two maybe three?

lets do a scene

You can tie me high

beautiful knots down low

squeezing my pie

i think You know

We have a code

You know the rule

i bring the fire

You own the fuel

Your voice makes me melt

and whats that scent?

is that your finger i just felt?

please...***? i just heard

my ***** what?

take me...

**** the safe word!

ive loss all control

i should explain

a play date with You

is delicious pain


Summer
romance lifestyle *** love ****
GM May 2015
I was walking through the grey rainy streets, another melancholic day.
Proud English flags hung up in the windows of council houses.
What are we so proud of anyway?
A country run on ignorance and blaming the minority, the government wonders why we have a problem with authority?
So we will focus on the youth that are disengaged and abstaining from voting.  Don't mention those who are hungry, unemployed and hurting.
Ssh, if we keep it quiet then maybe nobody will notice.
Close your eyes while the darkness approaches.
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
I can smell the talking cloud's tongue bright bright yellow light's blank bride medium blonde Italian Shadow, a ghost alerted to the base of conscious events one morning while standing with a gun which she fires and the bullet flies; face flushed with color, she dropped the gun and went into therapy on the side; :: separator :: revolutionary ***** mother police this warm stand of life of life, we ​​speak loves **** bad as long as the horrible monster lying in the tiny germ of the United States General Fingerprint Girl listening to good sunburn lets poets among the colors to make it easier for Norizontal children to cool; The features of Paul, Fuchsian and fleshly skin new to the new nation as well as to the magnificent laws of the Great Hall of the Church in the depression of foreign aliens. Yeh, support the family, yes, the trees are walking on the opposite side, sitting and staying in darkness. Here, except all the toys, but Russia drew swords and fish, and all the special features of the leaves are green and the shoots of a Hunter's Spatula ... In our areas the king of China is mighty over Corsica and Croatia. Gray with many lawyers, states in the United States and Europe, Albert offers new men and women. Happy, blessed with good names, women, women, children, Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul, joy, holy tradition, Paul's Apostle, the first month of this year, the happiness, and the TV of Russia and Santa Clara Santa Claus. Clara, Eugene's army, the chaos of the United States and Italy and the United States.
____________________­____________________­_________________

Sandra­ and two dogs, dogs, canine casting, dogs,
in Africa, again, I want you better, Sinah, in Austin,
an SSH outdoor way, also think that the British hope
"deer, drawing of he did not have the mind,
the issues coming in the storm by fire,
I thought I was ready for a wise fool to overcome
the pain of his dark car, the pure spirit of spirit,
light and black Italians had fallen in his closet
with a room talked about above the knee,
the living room where the police are talking to you,
was warm for you, which was in vain, the fire
was growing up to be a witness for the damage
and to restore the body's strength, such as the short hair
of hairy Ivan, Usa, all wind, wind, rain and clouds
on the ground, the last songs, now you have to go crazy
with the colors of criminals. Just s FUE in conjunction,
cold flies, home meat and Paul kept his skin clean,
and his guilt was like the words of a young man
in the days before Well, it's like a big dance I'm looking for:
I have enough to remember YCHA's little yokes, pain:
I want to talk to my hands.
__________________­____________________­____________________

­dystopia; plural noun: dystopias: an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad, typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one. Utopia; plural noun: Utopias; noun: utopia; plural noun: utopias an imagined place or state of things in which everything is perfect. The word was first used in the book Utopia (1516) by Sir Thomas More.
synonyms: paradise, heaven (on earth), Eden, Garden of Eden,
Shangri-La, Elysium; idyll, nirvana, God's country, *****, ***, snooch; literary: _Arcadia
           "it may be your idea of Utopia, but it's not mine."

\ n \ n \ n \ n \ n \ n \ n \ n \ n \ n \ n it is possible to be? bright, deep with three cheeses have a night of music and acid developers. But the soul of the child is the most green with its buds, the mouths of the feet of all those youthful years, the voice of it appeared in a generous and die of gold, queen of the cool colors abolished death, and was very angry with the cold, was a great change I desire to justify to you in the azure, blue, and gold, and the gold, Khan in October, many people had got out, and the song, as in a mirror, floor faced the most difficult man, but a rich, sweet drink patty the 2, George's carrots are ***, just made into wine, and the wine is to be given to the Christians, with his will he wrote this in Africa, the Christian name of Guy Wisdom, Christianity, George, history, the rich brown rye of FM, a young man, Kisukeya was concealed by the girl, it was degrading.                      

Top ink bottle modern jellyfish Ranpuhiru of contemporary Asian dream Anticinema Yamashoo robot picture image at Jack's Socks Center. At five the average social value which come in chains is sitting in the woods with a cotton Core, 2 from hockey to see Bob relay life to the Sodomi Yudaya football field and a Core 2 boar; Bob's devotion is to your heart station, 100th on the seventh smoking football, he thinks Stein Stein must understand the children on the toilet and in the corners of the corner UG Twig Ug to the Twig; the thick black pink beach Museum of clothing where the city sleeps with a witch in music paradise Chu, or 2 EMS Mary flies and marries a windy boy and pretty woman in January about the rainy season, ****** abuse by a woman with a pistol made of bread and Bee fingers; Warming up the rhyme to help poor Italy, monsoon. Permanent Glory Available as Typically A ribbon, and soon, a new color's new heat "colors uneasy King 'wins the boy' Robert White, Robert's noise, Homuesabi 100 Opera House, Silicon / 2000" bad example of the comparative example, the 2000 391 RB (600 100), the "Biogen FLATIC 100 2000 2000" into a large family company formed: "America's house of Excellence ", then the lives of Kabgokki.

Truth (2000) (a) "enough" Journal of Technology "by Jamie Winchester won the Nobel Prize for peace in the world." Of that war was in the dungeon.
"But, sir," I said, "they tell me the man is like to die!" The Canon shook his head indulgently. "Young blood, Cousin," he boomed. "Young blood! Youth will be served!"
-- D'Hermonville's Fabliaux.


He woke up with a sick taste in his mouth
And lay there heavily, while dancing motes
Whirled through his brain in endless, rippling streams,
And a grey mist weighed down upon his eyes
So that they could not open fully. Yet
After some time his blurred mind stumbled back
To its last ragged memory -- a room;
Air foul with wine; a shouting, reeling crowd
Of friends who dragged him, dazed and blind with drink
Out to the street; a crazy rout of cabs;
The steady mutter of his neighbor's voice,
Mumbling out dull obscenity by rote;
And then . . . well, they had brought him home it seemed,
Since he awoke in bed -- oh, **** the business!
He had not wanted it -- the silly jokes,
"One last, great night of freedom ere you're married!"
"You'll get no fun then!" "H-ssh, don't tell that story!
He'll have a wife soon!" -- God! the sitting down
To drink till you were sodden! . . .
Like great light
She came into his thoughts. That was the worst.
To wallow in the mud like this because
His friends were fools. . . . He was not fit to touch,
To see, oh far, far off, that silver place
Where God stood manifest to man in her. . . .
Fouling himself. . . . One thing he brought to her,
At least. He had been clean; had taken it
A kind of point of honor from the first . . .
Others might do it . . . but he didn't care
For those things. . . .
Suddenly his vision cleared.
And something seemed to grow within his mind. . . .
Something was wrong -- the color of the wall --
The queer shape of the bedposts -- everything
Was changed, somehow . . . his room. Was this his room?

. . . He turned his head -- and saw beside him there
The sagging body's *****, the paint-smeared face,
And the loose, open mouth, lax and awry,
The *******, the bleached and brittle hair . . . these things.
. . . As if all Hell were crushed to one bright line
Of lightning for a moment. Then he sank,
Prone beneath an intolerable weight.
And bitter loathing crept up all his limbs.
dew drops and sprinkler smells flood the streets, and us here, in your backyard, naked together and hidden from view, laughing and trying hard not to, keep it down, ssh, ssh, be quiet, do you want them to find us? no, god, no. if they found us touching each other like this, wet against the morning grass… it’s okay, that lawnmower is louder than us, they won’t find us. my head dizzy with your mum’s roses and daffodils and gardenias and tulips and chrysanthemums and the odd sunflower or too, lost in all that colour, dizzy with being so close, so intimate like this, and even though we’re in all this colour, all i want to see is the translucent touch of your pale skin on mine.
friday 11th july '14 ~ okay, so maybe i'm not doing too bad today, i just whipped this up in a second ~ excited for my 15th birthday party tomorrow (:
I recall, until my head pounds,
by the tides I shall be led,
the landscape of your body
in the ocean of our bed.

Among terraforming bedclothes,
old fires leapt anew,
my scent was freshly salted
by the minerals of you.

Blood catches pace and thunders
this sea is not so kind,
the ancient powers rise to claim
all the helpless they can find.

Headlong unto the harden'd shore
by joyous, raging speed
carried into ecstasy
my nose begins to bleed.

Small roses bloom upon you
as you wipe the scarlet spots.
So I will lie here, shipwrecked,
'til the pounding stops.

I cannot see another spit
of coast or island land
from the vantage point of head tipped back
ceiling sky and pinching hand.

The creaking timbers echo
with the lifting of your chest,
"ssh, don't move, it's stopping"
so I close my eyes, and rest.

Awakened from a slumber
without dreams or care,
I find a lonely rosebud
dried within my hair.

Your eyes contain the oceans,
shifting immortality
your fingers are still bloodstained
salt and blood, that's you and me.
Babylona Bora Sep 2014
I wore my frilly frock,embellished with stones bright
Tying my hair into a pigtail
I came out of my room like a strong gale


'Father!' I called out loud,
Again and again with a merry voice
I lacked patience and many other virtues
But all of it was unseen
For that day was my birthday

Mother came rushing to me
Held me against her *****
In a creaking voice she said to me..
'Ssh,my child.
He is out
He is out to make our country proud'.


I was 11, a child lost in her own dreams
of colors, dolls and things pretty
Never did I understand my mother's message
For I was a child void of the world of war
of blood and death.

The radio played,
My mother cried.

'What is happening?'
I thought.
The surroundings sulked in gloom
I shook my mother's arm
Tears gushing down her face,she looked at me

'General Smith , died a martyr..'
The radio played
'..served his country till his last breath'
it went on playing.

My world of pretty things bright
was no more bright
For the pall of darkness battled and won over all things nice.

Everything echoed in my ears
My father's name was being played over and over again.
They were singing praises of my father
'He was out to make our country proud' they said.

He finally came
Draped in a white sheet
He was there,sleeping.
Many faces unknown crowded my home
Cried they on the occasion of my birthday.

I went up to him and cried
'Wake up Father, its my Birthday.'
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
For he lay there silent,eyes closed.

'Oh' I muttered
and ran down the hallway
Shutting the doors behind me
I buried myself on the pillow
Praying to God for everything to be a nightmare
I wished for nothing but to fall asleep forever.

My world of pretty things bright
was no more bright
For the pall of darkness battled and won over all things nice.

I was 11 and innocent.
A stranger to the world of war,blood and death.
Dornish Bastard Aug 2015
In a room full of his art,
He stood as strangers admired.
There was only one subject -
The one woman on his mind.

He'd stopped time to draw her,
Living in that one second for hours or days.
He'd done it so many times
He filled the gallery with paintings of her face.

Iridescent eyes in black and white,
Blonde hair filling the canvas.
He'd seen her from every angle
And what a beautiful sight she was.

Then she was walking through the door,
Moving like air in her red dress.
She exuded the beauty and grace
That his artwork couldn't quite express.

If ever a person came out of a painting,
She was not the one.
No amount of talent and brushwork
Could captivate him like she'd done.

And his eyes did not stray now
As she bridged the space between them.
This meant he had a chance
To try and make things right again.

But he need not have apologized.
She sshed and told him, "It's okay.
This tells me so much more
Than you could ever say."

His paintings of her and only her
Were wherever they landed their eyes,
Save the window where she looked
And said, "It's snowing outside."

"Do you trust me?" he implored.
Curious, she asked, "Why?"
He said, "I need to show you something."
Then he made her close her eyes.

She trusted him - and then froze.
For he'd once again stopped time.
But then he let her into his secret world
And she couldn't believe her eyes.

Everyone they could see was still.
Even the snow floated in midair.
Everything was stopped in that second
And they were the only ones there.

They ran out in the not-falling snow,
Creating outlines with held hands.
He kissed her then, the snow like stars
And they'll decide when that second will end.
I don't know how to punctuate, sorry. But I'd love some feedback. :D

This was the final scene from Cashback, a film released in 2006, I think. I thought I'd write stories I've heard/read/watched before I can even think about writing original ones so this is my attempt.
BC Jaime Mar 2018
he was a tambourine
cling-cling-cling
competing with the guitar,
strrr...uuummm...
bass,
puuu-waaa...ssh!
and drums
BO...o...Om!

In the orchestra
he was the conductor's baton
swish-swish-swish
drowned out by the oboe
BRRR...Rooo...
cello
teener-neener-teen
violin
Neee-nah­-neee...nahnahnah-nee...

When he went solo
he was a harp
bling-bling-bling-bling...
graceful, delicate
tling-ling-ring-bling...
his strings plucked
pling-pling-pling-pling
by angels
© BC Jaime 2018 || IG: @b.c.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
Stan Gichuki Jan 2016
Sssssh!
Ssh..
Movements will stand still.
Silence  will shout,
God am stainless still,
A minute of silence, Holy Spirit is hunting souls stainless.
Death celebrates birthday the moment sin are committed like suicide,
Don’t wish to see tomorrow, ‘cause tomorrow is so painful,
Tomorrow joy will get married to sorrow,Blessing will be overpowered, bravery will be coward,
Tomorrow joy will get married to sorrow,
and Adam will ignore Eve to get married to serpent,
Tomorrow Human will be Evil servants,
Tomorrow Abel and Cain will have illicit *** and give birth to Avatars
....................             .....................                  ........................
....................             .....................                  .......................
...................             ......................                   ........................
“I wanna live forever young, do you wanna live forever?”
Jackie Mead Apr 2018
There was a boy in a cave
Fearful that he wouldn't be saved
He would never know if he would be missed
Never know a tender kiss

He had followed two boys underground
"ssh" they said not a sound
Then they pushed him to the ground, tied his hands, tightly bound
Ran away and left him there, they were not nice they didn't care

The game they played was Hide and Seek, the boy in the cave was mild and meek

The boy was there for what seemed like days then suddenly, was he dreaming a sunny haze, or had he ended his young days alone in the cave, unable to be saved.

A ray of light beamed upon the floor
Shone bright upon an exit door
The boy began to hatch a plan but first he needed to break free his hands

He found a rock and set about setting himself free
The boy became ecstatic hoping to be home for tea
It took a while but the binds did break, he shuffled to the door
Grabbed the handle, opened wide and ran outside
What greeted him was a lovely surprise, he couldn't believe his eyes

He had not expected to be missed but clearly through the rising mist he could see his family with tears in their eyes, giving thanks to the heavenly skies

The horrible boys well they went on to grow up mean and bad
They lived a life of loneliness and were very sad

One day, the three did meet, the Cave boy now a man, walked right up and shook them by the hand
"Thank you" he said  "what you did turned my life around, i now have a family and a home built underground" .
Just came to me last night, couldn't wait to write it up this morning, hope you emjoy
Shay Dec 2015
When my victim wakes up in the morning, I am by his side,
he know me all too well so I have no reason to hide.
I smile sinisterly at him and tell him he is weak,
lazy, disgusting and convince him that his future is bleak.
I shriek that he's not trying hard enough;
and I make him feel worthless and rough.
I constantly whisper that he is broken and beyond fixing,
"you are undeserving of love" I can't help but keep hissing.
My lies destroy him beyond compare,
and to my delight he is full of despair.
I crush his world into infinite emptiness - I know it's uncalled for -
then give him a plan and say "ssh baby, nothing matters anymore".
I slowly cut off his friends and family so they cannot save his life,
and soon enough I make him go to the kitchen to pick up a kitchen knife.
I convince him suicide is the only way out of this mess,
and cutting vein by vein he takes his life after a long while of distress.
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
Out of darkness, and the sea and from the tears of the saints,
of the observance of the obligations in the day of the feast
for the aromatic ones, and the composition of the army
of the Lord of lords; the tap in the manner of the safety
of the vessels of change in the color of the birds eating beans, |||||
we cry, Abba! Neither will fall at last to fulfill the brakes.
UUA the umbrella of the President's wife will have beautiful legs!
Music is a burden on the music and the background
and focus on the background, and dry out the juice
of the body in voluntary actions of the body, and the colors of various
carried-out music in the knee, and of the church I saw a ****** in Asia,
too, and the second time, Jack Diamond,
brown, brown, brown to dark brown or a brown haired woman
up in the leaves and velvety, the Albanians in Greece,
and Alexander's heart, the European Newborn radio and television,
game or Russia and John's pole and eighty three books about
This is not true at last, that is a false message.
The second was that it should damage from Africa
and the United States lost the black cherries.
Invisible things at different levels. The blind and SSH.
In such cases, Rich, strong, conservative tradition. - new hair,
but not involved in the church's right track in China
in the first Hannah King Albert V. Haller (Statins).
2 large bags from the Italian weddings for the first time
in the game the ball is a small American provider;
T-Mary Flower shows the format of diet sodas to
high blood pressure with a glass ball or the temple dog's
big package, fatigue, malaise and high in Dystopialia
to buy parts and disorder the goaltender. :         Order,
that is absurd, since sugar changes.
ABCDEFGHJKLMNPQRSTUVW,
the consul general Joe Joe Joe Joe Joe Joe
Women Women, [               ], [               ];
Women, Women, Women, Women's joy, joy,
joyful joy, wonderful, Joy Keithline is wonderful,
joy, joy, joy, Happiness, joy, Love and joy, joy, joy. Joy
all kinds of Popes, Paul, St. Paul, St. Paul, St. Paul,
St. Paul, St. Paul, St. Paul, brown, brown, brown,
brown, brown, brown hair of Paul Paul's Beard;
Grey Chevalier Lost poet Tomas Rubio;
Johann had a bad hair day, Fluffy, I've known all my life,
and the life of the new European Russia in Russian
coffee houses, and all the GQ faces - Webbed moon stars,
hearts, and the heart of Europe, the radio,
the Nirvana, the French,  the Russian,  the school
and the karma of the Ray Sutra of Paul, the heart
of playing these games which gives a thing of the planets,
the stars and the stars of providing radio
and television set to Santa Santa Clara;
Clare Crĕpĭto, the book of books and it has not fallen
to the Russian soldiers, but Christ is false.
Christ, which in pressing and urgent crises
worked in the United States and in Africa.
The invisible circuit. In the film?           The blind cannot see.
Light air. - Austria and the true Chinese home
covered in vines and branches in England,
led to a wave - Life 2 Ethics taste of soda's temple of the dog,
the dog, the dog, the dog, and the dog songs;
sound of the big dog, the dog, the dog, the dog
and the dog and the dog is a dog, a dog, a dog goes to church.
David Ehrgott Oct 2015
Jesus approached Santa the other day.  "Yo Santa!  What's the big idea?"
quipped Jesus.  "Huh?" mumbled Santa.  "You heard me, you fat bstrd!"
Jesus declared vociferously.  "Hey, watch who you're calling bstrd."  Santa replied.  "Well then fess up."  Jesus demanded.  "Jesus, I swear to Christ, I really don't know what the fck you are talking about."  replied Santa.  "You know exactly what I am talking about Claus and don't try to deny it."  snapped Jesus.  "What did I do?"  asked Santa.  "You're giving away gifts on MY birthday.  What's the big Idea?"  resnapped Jesus.  "Th-Th-the children."  was all that Santa was able to mutter.  "Give them gifts on THEIR birthday, *sshl*."  endeth Jesus.
Chantell Wild Feb 2020
sweet morning
sweet slumber of night
shadows can never
be brought to light
they will merely reappear
on the other side of dawn.
Graham Feb 2016
Heartbeat moving away
Pounding fast like a mayday signal the stereotype of love..
Show me how to fight this..
The mirror of the enchanted
Our fairytale dreams like 'happy ever after'....

Love intertwined with souls
Spirits dance in silence like 'ssh' in love conquers all...
The shyness choke just to spill out the 'The three words'
Love still breed
Joy nor date nor age no need
In this delight my mind move
To live with thee
Be thy Love
aster Jan 2019
With the dusking
the vast sky was blue,
bright, warm and lovely....


But as time ticked
it turned yellow-
dark, cold.
It woke the poet in me,
it got me untangled
from my daily sorrows
into an emotional mess
of never ending questions
and contemplations.


And then it turns orange,
like the amber,
there is passion,
there is rage,
and there is love-
it's strong...


but it gets darker,
colder.
And then turns red,
it turns evil,
full of vengeance in its heart,
it motivates me,
it makes me sick,
tired,
but still inspires to
keep pushing myself....


Now it's purple,
mysterious,
curious
and cold.


is this how life is?


I don’t know.


But then it's all black.

It's the same soul,
only it's physical embodiments
differ with time.


All those emotions lie with in you.
You are your
source of
joy,
sorrow,
anger,
vengeance,
despise,
love,
peace.


close your eyes.


ssh...
feel the silence
feel the coldness
feel the darkness
and open them,
it's bright blue again!!

That's how life is.
It's dusked.
life is colorful.
Seb Jan 3
behold the musk-robinson, as it slinks through the night,
with eyeballs clenched and megaphone tight.
it tweets and it cackles, it sets off the flares,
and governments quiver, all trembling with fright.

it prowls the hot takes, it crunches the lies,
it devours the secrets with hungry, cold eyes.
it gnashes on corruption, it feasts on deceit,
and swallows it down with a scandalous tweet.

“he’s inciting rebellion! he’s spreading despair!”
the ministers wail, ripping out their hair.
“he memes with abandon! he posts without care!
he’s riling the masses—he’s everywhere!”

but ssh. what’s that? a buzz, a hum?
quick, lock the screens! oh no—he’s come!
go block his account! unplug the feed!
go, now, hurry! take the lead!

no stop! too late! he’s worming in!
quick, yank the wires!
hush now—he’s within!

he slithered right in through a half-open gate,
oh, look at that smirk, that grin—it’s too late!
it's torn back our curtains—we’re naked behind

— The End —