"stander" poems
*Binne d vlgde 20 min verjaar jy ~ jy word ouer ~ nog 'n jaar verby ~ waisted! Or so it feels! Ma net vi een rede... Its another year I did not spend with you!!! Jys my love at first sight! The love of my life!! And I'm not there wif you!!!! Ek hoop mt my hele hart ~ jy geniet jou aand! Weet net ek sit hier ~ en **** an jo wens ek was daar saam mt jo!!! Happy birthday!!*
Apr 16, 2011
Apr 16, 2011 at 2:01 PM UTC
I sit and wait, sit and wait,
And watch the ticking clock move to his slow and constant rhythm.
The rest is a blur, the people around me, the pen in my hand, even the hieroglyphic symbols on the blackboard seem to fade into an incomprehensible nothingness...
All I see, all I hear, is that clock.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
It grows louder and louder until everything is consumed by that mechanical monster.
My ear drums are about to burst, my eyes are watering, I don't want to miss a second.
And as if the church bells are singing my daunting, dreary lesson is complete and as quick as a one-night-stander I collect my things and bolt for the door...
On to brighter horizons
Who needs maths,when you've got English anyways.
I hear we're doing poetry today.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
I love shopping for music online.
I always do.
I love the way they say to you.
If you like Beyonce, then you might like Pink.
Would it not be nice.
If all life did that.
After ten pints down the pub.
The Barman says to you.
If you like ten pint in this pub.
Then you might like a kebab.
Then at the kebab shop he says to you.
If you like ten pints in the pub then a kebab.
You might like a fight.
So you pop out, and beat up an innocent by stander.
Then a Policeman shouts at you.
If you like beating up an innocent by stander.
You might like to join the Police!
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
The world wants to condition my heart
To conform my soul into a blank slate
Molding with experience and disappointment
Gradually shaping until it is frozen in stone.
Motionless, empty of emotion
Paralyzed by society
Left to view the beauty from outside
Through jaded and cynical eyes
Never allowed to experience depth of love I so long to feel
Cursed to be a by stander
Constantly searching
People watching
Longing, yearning for fate to step in
Waiting for what seems like eternity
Slowly sculpted into a statue of my former self
Void of color
Drained of hope or inspiration
All the love stored away for that "one day" is gone
Frozen in ice
Cold to the world
Resolved to dwell in my prison of solitude
Away from betrayal and lies
Never again to feel
Letting no other soul close to mine.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
I watched a live band
yesterday
my stomach churned
against its empty walls
digesting emptiness
and simply
feeling human
....again
With a voice
so mellow
it mesmerized
hypnotized
the murmurs
to a silence
A marriage of strums
carried feelings
embraced
every stander
with a certain warmth
that reaches the heart
I heard my friend say
"they make fall
in love with myself"
how delicate of a statement
to float amidst
the dark space
dancing with their voices
Something pure
was taking place
and as an audience
we have longed for
such a feeling
so foreign
to carry us a bit closer
to our very core
reminding us
that it's possible
for a heart to smile
to prove that
innocence does
still exist
"Who are they?" I asked
"Waynick" she said
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 5:09 AM UTC
This soul is experiencing an awakening like never before
Years of straining to please the masses
Decades of being lost in the world of judging eyes
Condemned by every heart she had allowed close
Driven insane by the words that replayed every minute of every day
Relentless scratching on this chalk board of reality
Torture that seemed to be her eternity.
Rescued by the sun
A simple caress of her cheek , the sweet sound
the vibration of his voice
So easily untied the ropes of life that had strangled her soul
Strange stillness has replaced the chaos of her mind
Tranquility washes over her
Peace settles in to take root
As she watches as if she is a by stander to her own life
Watches every inhibition
every fear, every thought of failure
fall away like magic
He is her missing puzzle piece
He is her balance
He is her dream
He is so unlike any before him
She catches her breathe at every encounter
In awe of the man standing before her
Amazed by the serenity he provides
Which to her is the greatest gift in the world
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
You've never touched the sun, but still you wobble.
You've lost your light.
You're barely holding on.
But here you dance, shining bright.
I love my little flower.
Even if I don't love its stander.
I own a million plastic flowers.
My million plastic flowers, sitting on the shelf.
I'm much too harsh on plastic flowers.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 2:52 AM UTC
I can only summon feelingfulness like the passing of a dove,
postponing its arrival mid-air, somewhere along the tucked
bramble across Poblacion, starting with metaphorical sensibility
or an insensibly bland space to procure wanted meaning.
Girls prefer roses and their bright foreheads diademed with more
flowers, and boys, their chiaroscuro or lack of a color thereof, seems
to be fitting in this maladroit contrast, and so I begin, as always,
with your very vague and caged memory. Your face, the whiteness
of snowcapped alps. Your strut, my slalom in a treacherous course
of words reduced to whisperings, to flutings. Your voice, though nuanced,
flitters with an overtone of arrogance: if sound was clothed, yours would
be flamboyant ermine. And the line in front of you before I, my arbitrary turn,
assimilates into a picturesque form of waiting somewhere in Cubao.
I wanted to smash myself with train-speed towards the metallic turnstile,
which, would then famish me even so, just as much as I wish to be a car crash
somewhere within the outskirts of your town, heavily vandalized by the swill
of squalor hefting itself like the rest of the world conscious of its viscera.
This is how I start you – like waiting for the sun to emerge by Borobudur,
or the clandestine *** of mildew and grass, a hundredfold of images appear
before me and I cannot choose upon my whims and caprices. Are you a dove?
A spear of Sun? A thunderous crackle of an impending rain? A harlequin?
A moseying cirrus? Or just another by-stander in the crowds where I ultimately
seek your being?
This answerlessness measures my knowledge of star, and my breath snuffed
out of me while I sigh from exhausted penchants, outweigh dissimilarities and symmetries.
A progeny from all superseding conundrums arises: are you a retrogression of a wave
back to its saltine wound, flailing in brine? Or are you just the vast sea and nothing else
on a fine and lucid day where children skip stones and chant name-callings?
I sense the peril in this undertaking, and much to my chagrin, I still
do not know how to end you.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 3:09 AM UTC
Happy birthday sunshine
if I may call you sunlight
a wizard alive in our generation
a bye stander of simplicity
and lover of peace
who are you not to smile to flash backs
and unending memory.
if it may rain
let your pain turn to joy
and your worry in gladness
let your smile trade your beauty
and amalgamate your feelings
to be most success.
stand tall amidst cold days
iron your present for a brighter tomorrow
Happy birthday
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
Today I was gonna look her in the eye
Tell her she's the reason why
When I fall, I fly
But then I saw her, kissing another guy
And realised I've been living a lie
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 12:54 PM UTC
For Dalton Grove
The only true Grover
R.I.P
The love we find,
All to often slips,
Like wet dew in the morning, the vastness of intermingling thoughts or ideas ,
Stander vestiges we'd often find inside our minds,
Art the form of unexpressed thoughts moving,
Virtually free,
From the unequivocal frame of design,
Greatly I say we are nothing but apart fallen pieces so lonely and vast without each other's grasping hand dying to be,
Chasing starlight together in the night time air
Oh, how I long to see you so,
Turning times and movements all to divine for eyes,
I see you in my dresser drawer sleeping like a raccoon,
Chasing dreams once lost to the oceans pull,
The heavens though they may be cease to dawn new ideas when,
You cry,
A lonely lullaby,
I've seen things I cannot express come to be naught
Or have fallen short of things I digress to be,
But you my lovely friend are close to thee,
In the crystalline structure I float to your breathe,
And scream of the life that has been put to rest
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
Sharp thrashes of wind taking my balance like waves in deep tide.
The invisible storm that ravages me,
Where does it hide?
Taken by surprise in a breathless pounding panic.
Like my worlds being vacuumed to a pin hole.
Replaced with blackness in a quick flash.
Then this?
What is this?
It feels heavy - more than immense.
I think it's positive...
But it's hard to tell - its far too intense.
I can feel the source in the distant haze.
Each step towards grows thick and impossible.
There's nothing behind me just black.
I'll step on, following that heart splitting feeling.
There is just no going back.
In the haze something more dark.
A shape, a figure, a silhouette.
How could a person do this to me.
A feeling I'll never forget.
I can only manage to crawl.
A last breath, a last reach.
Just how far did I fall...
My hand sliced through this hazy cloak.
And there it was, as if I'd known it all along.
A woman. I could feel it in my drowned lungs.
Just a moment, a feeling, that's all it was.
A by stander in the wake of your infinitely blossomed life.
Never reaching you.
Just Watching.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC
I once thought
eternity was written
across your lips
but really it was
temporary
that was whispered
in every kiss
your words
were loaded guns
and I'm sorry I
had to pull the trigger
if she has the audacity
to try to
love you more than I did
remember to tell her
that she won't ever be able too
our love and the butterflies in
my stomach have perished in the
same fire that they once flourished in
and now I'm burning too
your hands that carried the baby
that now gives me life
will now reach for her
and I think I'm going be sick
I'm going to be sick
the venom is spitting out
of the same mouths that
once sang I love you every day
you thought you had chains
pressing into your wrist
when really the chains
had already been broken
and thrown away
we are both the victims and
aggressors of this tragedy
and no up stander can save us
it wasn't you and it wasn't me
it was every bumpy road that
could never be smoothed over
I am sorry i could never save us
I am sorry we never worked out
I am sorry we even tried
I am sorry I loved you
I am sorry I was the wall
dividing you from happiness
I am sorry I was the wall dividing
you from her
I am so sorry I thought
this was forever
I'm so sorry
-k.s
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 6:23 PM UTC
Waiting to be counted . Do i even matter in the world Or am i just anouther person who is just taking in oxygen and depriving someone else of that oxygen. I see people coming and going in and out of my life but which ones count and which ones dont?
With 7.3 billion people in the world just makes me wonder what i am living for . Does the world even know that you exist or you just a by stander . You only count to your family and friends. Even graves have numbers but sadly whats your number out of the 7.3 billion people that are alive in the world?
Does the fame and fortune make people count more than others? So what about my brother or my sister living in the middle of Africa who live under the poverty line do they also count in this number of people that exist?
Live the life you are proud of , even if no one else takes notice just know that happiness is far better than worrying who is famous and who isn't. I am counted because i voice my opinion and make sure i go through each day being happy.
Life is the best gift from God! I am number 4 264 587 188 so what number are you?
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
She went insane
No one knows why
Unsure how
She lost her mind
They didn't dare
Ask her how
She never cared
To tell them why
But deep inside
She wanted to die
People walked by
Ignoring all the signs
Silent screams for help
Unnoticed, & ignored
She lost hope
To each by stander
She became
Just another
A broken soul
In search of who she really was
And what it felt like to be loved.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 8:44 AM UTC
On August 13, 1980, Streiston
fell victim to a special dealer.
Snyder used pump-12" pump with sub-advertising.
[3]...[5] In the evening, he spoke with his mysterious words.
And it actually ended when Snyder's
friend said that he once had a gun. [five]
During the first conversation in 12 hours,
Snyder could not do anything
and died in an unexpected series.
In particular, he spoke last year
with the actors and his former partner
Claudia Sedzaligati,
who in many cases died in a car accident.
Stander commented on the interpretation
of the train and, according to several publishers,
the lamp of the game was killed to solve.
Problems in ******* magazine,
and one participant died in the task [5]...[6]
According to West Schneider, the Streets
stated that Heliokonim installed 12-14 in Los Angeles.
Later, Straathen police gave $ 1,100
to the place where Schneider used to be,
and he could receive a salary.
If you try to simplify this process
and try Stretan Snadder, all your savings will be. "Live" [9]
In the morning
there were two
sets of black clothes
in two houses,
when they ran
for several months
with her husband
Straton. [10]...[9]
Continuum is a state in the living room,
which has been proven to be used
in Schneider’s palace and reaches
home for a while. [eleven]
At eight o'clock in the morning,
when two friends came home,
he stood in front of the car and
stopped to see Lieutenant Straighton
in the next house. The privacy
of their home was linked to husband and wife.
The tax from the personal detective
to the snow pile is sent to Stratin
and Schneider after 11 hours, calling
the number. [12] Each liter will
rotate in two turns. At this time, Stratan Snyder was shot.
The house of the governor Schneider
follows the hour of death. [14]...
Since mid-August, Cynthia Straten,
the special actor, has been murdered.
Hefner called Bogdanovich.
Bogdanovich heard that he was unconscious.
In the morning at the RCMP in Vancouver,
her daughter died in the house of God. [17]...
The body of Stratani
was burned in the cemetery
of the Memorial Park;
Westwood Village in Los Angeles.
[18] The magazine was buried
in the middle of Sophania Cynthia
(MM) and Marilyn Monroe D. 1962.
He chooses a place in chapter 34
of the Bogdanovich Straton, memorandum.
Notes to the memorandum
of the young Straton: "Mortal Stratan",
granddaughter of the writer Merrill
Hemingway. Starring in Star 80 three
years later biologists Diving and Bob
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 2:17 PM UTC