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"starring" poems
Sitting on the corner while Starring At the glances of your smile all over Cover the room by your face unveiling Up to this moment, I want to be near, (you were a mile from here) Thinking It was cloudy on my mind, But when you are here by my side You are making my day as bright Showing the beauty behind, (They have nothing to hide, nothing to hide.) How deep is the ocean trenches? How far is the stars throughout the abyss? How much warm is your embraces? How much cold Is your lips to kiss? l don’t much care about counting all of these, As long as you are with me, you are my bliss (I could tell,) heaven’s gate is not the place of happiest And angels are not those prettiest, Indeed, God is always be the wisest, For sending me a fallen angel, I’ve caught the brightest, the brightest Lately, You stole what between these lungs You open my chest, You let it pour, my bleeding heart I cant deny, how i feel, you are my crush I have been stunned on Your eye lashes, (glances, perfume scents, and blushes) How deep is the ocean trenches? How far is the stars throughout the abyss? How much warm is your embraces? How much cold Is your lips to kiss? Do I have to care about all of that anymore, As long as you are with me, what should I have to ask for? Emerald, jade, diamond, gold and silver, I guess nothing is forever, unless me and you In this world of deception, anyone can be a liar Just remember, Nothing is to fear, I am always here. .......I am always here.
0
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
Sonnet for YOU
its been moments since I thought about you in any capacity minutes since I remembered some portion of our story hours since I felt anger days since I tried to pick up my phone weeks since I last contacted you months since we last touched. its been months since you crushed me weeks since I put on the brave face days since I longed for you hours since I spoke of you minutes of starring into a blank screen silently pleading moments before all this is behind me again. It’ll be Moments of weakness when I think about “us” Minutes of silent cursing while you run through my mind Hours of rationalizing before I let it go Days of depression I know Weeks of emotions crammed into a few minutes Months of self doubt and insanity Soon it’ll be years But I’ll always have the tears.
0
Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 10:25 PM UTC
timelines
Panic attacks for me are shakey. I start to think everyone's starring, I wonder what they're thinking. My resoloution is to get out. Then the tears come pouring down. As they do my body follows. I sink to the ground and try to hide myself. The sleeves of my jacket become soaked, And then my heart feels like it'll explode. Anxiety is a whole nother code.
0
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 8:02 PM UTC
Panic Attack
I spend so many nights starring up from my bed. Gazing upon the plastic glow in the dark stars. Vision blurs as I long to be staring at the real thing. Or maybe- it's not so much that I want to see them. Maybe it's I want to be one- I want to be a star. I want to be looked for- to be wanted so badly that people travel miles just to get far enough away to see me properly. What a different feeling, to be wanted. To feel so loved and cherished. That's all I've ever wanted, I want to feel noticed. I want to feel loved. I want to feel like I'm worth something. I don't just want to be wanted. I want to be wanted by you. So tell me, will you travel away from it all to see me? Will you miss me when you have to return to civilization? No.. No you will simply stay where you are- not bothering to take a chance on something you can't see. But why would you? So many shine brighter than me..
0
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
A Want to be Wanted
Frustrated heat fills me. Won't you leave me alone already! I'm tired of feeling like you're starring.. Free me from the needles your eyes are darting at me. If you stay for too long, I'll begin to bleed. Can you not hear me? Just leave..
0
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
Just Leave
the club is not the place to be so the bar is where you'll find me with my girlfriend doing shots scanning the room and catching nods your eyes hang in the smoky air come on over, if you dare trust me, I'll give you a chance surely you see that, in my glance my friend and I are laughing like girls do my magnetic eyes push and pull at you starring, you haven't looked away I can see the interest, you convey another shot the bartender places confused, he gestures and your glass raises I smile as my girlfriend whispers, he's cute toasting you, we lift our shots and shoot I won't beg you to on come over but it's only wasting time until you come closer the possibilities, I foresee I'm already in love with your body in confidence, over you saunder in my mind the question, I ponder obviously I see, you're in to me but what about my friend... are you into three?
0
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 9:33 PM UTC
The Pick Up
I can barely see the Sun now. It's slowly drowning into a pool of clouds, turning a shade darker as it does so, like a red bindi in the sky. Awed by the mysterious beauty I stand there starring. Orange, pink and red clouds fading into a deep blue. The rest of the sky is covered with tiny shiny dots and silhouettes of birds flying home on the amber background. The Sun's glowing like a jasper and slowly it's completely under the horizon, but a few rays cut through the clouds like closing doors of the Heavens. After the sunset the sky is a different kind of heaven. The Night wears her beautiful cerulean dress, decorated with diamonds we call stars. They twinkle, they're a priceless sight, covered often by clouds or pollution seems like she is unhappy with us humans. Nature, a vast beauty all around. Despite being forgotten it shows off it's beauty in a daily routine. Do you care to notice?
0
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 1:02 AM UTC
Doors of Heaven
To be a girl it means that you are frail, right? That can’t possibly understand a thing To be a girl it means you stay up day and night Trying to get that big, shiny ring But that’s not true, for a majority that is We have a secret passed down from mother to daughter The secret is that we pretend to be his But our hearts belong to one and another At age 6 being a girl meant you liked pink and played with dolls But that changed At age 8 being a girl meant you liked skirts, dresses, bows That changed too At age 10 being a girl meant that you were expected to have a crush & kiss him If you didn’t, you were an outcast At age 12 your interest in education was to diminish By age 14 you realized that when a boy slapped your *** you enjoyed it And if you didn’t you were a lesbian Ages 12-18 we as girls are told to not show shoulders, knees or skin of any kind because it might distract the boys I never heard the guys being told to dress a certain way. Have you? No? I didn’t think so because it might ruin their ego… Being a girl means that you are blessed with self hate It’s automatic and hard to lose There is always an imperfection… Being a girl means that even when it’s hot, you wear jeans and a baggy tee So that you don’t have to deal with wondering eyes Being a girl means that you must look your best ALWAYS or else you’re trash But not too good or else you’re a **** looking for a good time Being a girl means that you grow to hate yourself so much that you can’t even look at yourself Unless you are in public, then you have to act vain Being a girl means that you have to listen to guys calling you fake because you hate a girl but you’re friends with her the next day What those guys don’t know is that she saved you from a situation that could’ve made you lose what little dignity you have left Being a girl means that when you see a grown man starring at a baby… ...you take that baby’s spot If that means you have to be his princess, babygirl, WHATEVER, for the night YOU DO IT. And when you are called a ***** **** the next day, just remember that you helped that child Being a girl means that when you’re a mother and your little girl asks you why the boys at the school rate the girls on a scale of 1-10 you have to look at her with the same look your mother gave you and tell her, That being a girl means that you have to be smart, that you have to work 2-3 jobs just to make the same as a guy with 1 job       It’s not fair, but that is how it is.   You have to hug your baby girl when she comes home and tells you that her teacher yelled at her for wearing a tanktop or when a boy touches her even when she told him to stop To be be a girl means that your are strong To be a girl means that you are resilient To be a girl means that you have a secret that is passed down from mother to daughter And that secret is Unity
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Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 8:39 AM UTC
To Be a Girl
To be a girl it means that you are frail, right? That can’t possibly understand a thing To be a girl it means you stay up day and night Trying to get that big, shiny ring But that’s not true, for a majority that is We have a secret passed down from mother to daughter The secret is that we pretend to be his But our hearts belong to one and another At age 6 being a girl meant you liked pink and played with dolls But that changed At age 8 being a girl meant you liked skirts, dresses, bows That changed too At age 10 being a girl meant that you were expected to have a crush & kiss him If you didn’t, you were an outcast At age 12 your interest in education was to diminish By age 14 you realized that when a boy slapped your *** you enjoyed it And if you didn’t you were a lesbian Ages 12-18 we as girls are told to not show shoulders, knees or skin of any kind because it might distract the boys I never heard the guys being told to dress a certain way. Have you? No? I didn’t think so because it might ruin their ego… Being a girl means that you are blessed with self hate It’s automatic and hard to lose There is always an imperfection… Being a girl means that even when it’s hot, you wear jeans and a baggy tee So that you don’t have to deal with wondering eyes Being a girl means that you must look your best ALWAYS or else you’re trash But not too good or else you’re a **** looking for a good time Being a girl means that you grow to hate yourself so much that you can’t even look at yourself Unless you are in public, then you have to act vain Being a girl means that you have to listen to guys calling you fake because you hate a girl but you’re friends with her the next day What those guys don’t know is that she saved you from a situation that could’ve made you lose what little dignity you have left Being a girl means that when you see a grown man starring at a baby… ...you take that baby’s spot If that means you have to be his princess, babygirl, WHATEVER, for the night YOU DO IT. And when you are called a ***** **** the next day, just remember that you helped that child Being a girl means that when you’re a mother and your little girl asks you why the boys at the school rate the girls on a scale of 1-10 you have to look at her with the same look your mother gave you and tell her, That being a girl means that you have to be smart, that you have to work 2-3 jobs just to make the same as a guy with 1 job       It’s not fair, but that is how it is.   You have to hug your baby girl when she comes home and tells you that her teacher yelled at her for wearing a tanktop or when a boy touches her even when she told him to stop To be be a girl means that your are strong To be a girl means that you are resilient To be a girl means that you have a secret that is passed down from mother to daughter And that secret is Unity
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Did you know that every time he searched your eyes, While he pushed deep- That his emotions passion and lust was equivalent to her? For every time he traced his finger tip down your spine; your hands grasped to cover more surface. Cotton. Polyester. Satin, as you braced for smooth impact. He only understood the similar love language he shared with her. With you- craving of possessive feelings, Proving your worth to him asking for time via a clock whom hands couldn’t unwind Separate. Disintegrate. A Minaj a trios- unbeknownst to you existed, Co-starring you For every soft connection within each curve... Your identity was a reflection of another. For all the things you projected Marriage. House. Dog. Children. His capability of taking you to ecstasy, Lead you here Had you any clue? This little game called life, Excluded the other woman (you).
0
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 3:50 PM UTC
Wishful thinking
And Then I Met Her It was our first meet When i saw her My heart skipped a beat I was on one side of the road And She on the other Everything was in my favor and yes that weather. As, i got close to her She got blushed. Her cheeks turned red as Petals of a flower. Her relishing antics, her blushing cheeks And her cute expression. I couldn't take my eyes off for the session. She drove me crazy She was looking beautiful like daisy. Starring at each other's eyes was making a beautiful sound. And made me feel as if there was no one around. The way she put her hand on the chin. I'm falling fa you, i said with a grin. I noticed that smile on her face. And i was thinking her to embrace. She's an Ocean, her eyes deep sea-blue I failed reading those as she left no clue.
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Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 1:16 AM UTC
And Then I Met Her
Dissociation: noun the disconnection or separation of something from something else or the state of being disconnected. CHEMISTRY the splitting of a molecule into smaller molecules, atoms, or ions, especially by a reversible process. PSYCHIATRY separation of normally related mental processes, resulting in one group functioning independently from the rest, leading in extreme cases to disorders such as multiple personality. Dissociation is not trendy. It’s not just depression or starring into space. It’s so much more It’s crawling away form reality and making a home in your head. Losing contact with your body. Dissociation is not knowing who you are. Dissociation is watching yourself in third person. Dissociation is feeling so scared that you’d rather loose yourself entirely then live in the present. Dissociation is not always multiple personalities but sometimes no personality. It’s losing time. It’s not recognizing those you love. It’s having little to no memory of anything that happened after the fifth grade. its knowing faces but not exactly sure where from. It’s a defense mechanism. It’s writing your name on the back of your hand to not completely lose all of you. 
It’s wearing a rubber band to snap yourself back because you have taught yourself to know when you are losing yourself It’s getting help, because you know in your very few lucid moments that this is not normal.
0
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 9:37 AM UTC
Dissociation
Saturn Venus & Mars If you live in the Northern Hemishpere of this universe, go out any night this week an hour or so after sunset, and look at the western sky to catch a planetary triple play starring Venus, Saturn and Mars. The first thing skywatchers will see — weather permitting — is the planet Venus, slightly north of west, in the constellation Gemini. Look for Gemini's twin first magnitude stars, Pollux and Castor, just above Venus. As the sky gets darker, the planet Mars can be spotted to Venus' left as it appears in the constellation Leo very close to the bright, first magnitude star Regulus. Further still to the left, will be Saturn shining in the western part of the constellation Virgo. The sky map below shows how to spot all three planets. Venus, Mars and Saturn are all currently appearing, slightly north of the ecliptic, the path the sun appears to follow over the year, shown in green in the sky map. This occurance inspired the poem that follows. Good morning my love, hope that you slept well, while you were away my dear, all the night sky fell, the only stars that remain, are the stars in my eyes, when I gaze upon your face, the tears my heart cries, for I can only dream a dream, of you in my world, and wish that I could kiss, those sweet lips so curled, I also wish that you, would think of me this way, holding you in my arms, is my wish each and every day .... Gomer LePoet...
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Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 1:21 PM UTC
Saturn Venus & Mars
Got the kids and stopped ******* Four times a year you get ******* Forcing yourself for my pleasing Truth is that you **** at ******* Leaving me always for fapping So many years still not knowing At least do a bit of upskilling Go online and get on reading Use videos if you prefer watching My cues are also worth listening: - Comment as you're tasting - Time to time pause for starring - Be generous with licking - Also do a bit of ********* - Do not finish up spitting - Kiss me if not swallowing If you can't handle the praising Let's instead do some facesitting Head slotted onto your opening A lesson on oral I'll be teaching Devouring until you let go shacking Anyway, in parallel, ************ Get those pleasure juices flowing To see you orgamiscaly smiling
0
Aug 30, 2020
Aug 30, 2020 at 2:47 AM UTC
You **** at *******
There was a young girl and her name was Carrie All she would dream of was being a Fairy She would come home with tears down her face Thinking of the words said made her heart pace To the park she would go to try and get a look Writing and drawing in her small book One day she as was there jumping towards the sky When all of a sudden she heard a small cry She looked to her feet to behold a rare sight A small frail fairy starring up at her in fright She picked up the being and took it back home Up to her room where it could freely roam As the days went on the fairy grew sad Because of that Carrie became mad One day the fairy had asked to go Carrie was so mad that she roared out a ‘NO’ The fairy’s heart hurt For Carrie had begun to treat it like dirt Slowly the fairy thought of a way When Carrie would leave it’d ask to come play Carrie accepted without a clue But before the time came she already knew Before she had left she locked the fairy up Away it went in a small plastic cup Loudly the fairy screamed out for mercy Calmly Carrie said ‘You should have loved me” She picked up a lighter and set it aflame Looking down at the fairy with no hint of shame As the cup lit up and the golden flames licked out Carrie covered her ears as the fairy began to shout She grinned at the cup with no hint of remorse From that moment on her life went off course She soon became crazy and also was bitter Mad at that fairy for not wanting to be with her She then gave up with keeping up with her lie And quickly decided it was her turn to die She wrote a short letter for all those who cared Re writing the life of which she had bared The finale few lines spoke of her fears But only the last two were covered in tears These were the words that were said Right before Carrie had shot herself in the head I am a young girl and my name is Carrie As I grew up I dreamed of being a fairy People would laugh and break my joy They didn’t realize that I wasn’t a toy My dream soon came true in a sick twisted way I didn’t know that I would turn around and say That fairies aren’t real to those who don’t see And being able to know one comes at a fee I was one of the few who had to pay that cost I was once found but now I am lost I am ready to go for the clock is ticking My heart and soul is now one for the picking I guess it is time to reveal all kept hidden For I was the one that had it forbidden Because I am a young girl and my name is Carrie And I’m leaving this world the queen of all fairies.
0
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
The Fairy
There was a young girl and her name was Carrie All she would dream of was being a Fairy She would come home with tears down her face Thinking of the words said made her heart pace To the park she would go to try and get a look Writing and drawing in her small book One day she as was there jumping towards the sky When all of a sudden she heard a small cry She looked to her feet to behold a rare sight A small frail fairy starring up at her in fright She picked up the being and took it back home Up to her room where it could freely roam As the days went on the fairy grew sad Because of that Carrie became mad One day the fairy had asked to go Carrie was so mad that she roared out a ‘NO’ The fairy’s heart hurt For Carrie had begun to treat it like dirt Slowly the fairy thought of a way When Carrie would leave it’d ask to come play Carrie accepted without a clue But before the time came she already knew Before she had left she locked the fairy up Away it went in a small plastic cup Loudly the fairy screamed out for mercy Calmly Carrie said ‘You should have loved me” She picked up a lighter and set it aflame Looking down at the fairy with no hint of shame As the cup lit up and the golden flames licked out Carrie covered her ears as the fairy began to shout She grinned at the cup with no hint of remorse From that moment on her life went off course She soon became crazy and also was bitter Mad at that fairy for not wanting to be with her She then gave up with keeping up with her lie And quickly decided it was her turn to die She wrote a short letter for all those who cared Re writing the life of which she had bared The finale few lines spoke of her fears But only the last two were covered in tears These were the words that were said Right before Carrie had shot herself in the head I am a young girl and my name is Carrie As I grew up I dreamed of being a fairy People would laugh and break my joy They didn’t realize that I wasn’t a toy My dream soon came true in a sick twisted way I didn’t know that I would turn around and say That fairies aren’t real to those who don’t see And being able to know one comes at a fee I was one of the few who had to pay that cost I was once found but now I am lost I am ready to go for the clock is ticking My heart and soul is now one for the picking I guess it is time to reveal all kept hidden For I was the one that had it forbidden Because I am a young girl and my name is Carrie And I’m leaving this world the queen of all fairies.
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58
The second i snap out of my dream and back into the realism of it all, im hoping second by second that your actually here beside me and that i wasn't just dreaming out loud. My body and mind, coming back to the surface of it all, my breathing pick's up and my sense of feel and smell has resurfaced. I smell the sweet and light smell of your hair but im not sure if it's just the after math of my dream. starring at this wall, im afraid to roll over, because if i roll over and your not there i don't know how well i'm going to do or if ill even continue with my day. If I can continue this dream of you, i'll sleep forever, i'll never open my eyes again. I brace myself, cause it's time for me to roll over. Tightening my muscles, stretching my skin, tired bone's cracking, hair moving in all direction's, clothes moving out of place and indenting the bed. I squeeze my eye's tight, causing my pupil's to shrink, hoping that when i open these door's and let my pupil's increase to normal size, there your perfectly shaped body will be. I imagine it before i dare to reveal the truth. The blanket's fall into place where your curves indent, your hair in a wave like the pattern flowing wave's in the ocean, your arm being tucked just under your chin where it meet's your other arm and after a few seconds i can't bare the taunt my imagination is dangling in my face, so i open my eyes and there you are. Exactly how  I imagined it. I take a moment for all this to register, as if i had just won the lottery. In that moment i find myself wrapping my arm's around you and your finger's sliding up my arm and into my hand to lock with mine. This is truely the meaning of "Goodmorning", so goodmorning, babe.
0
Jun 9, 2011
Jun 9, 2011 at 7:17 AM UTC
Goodmorning, babe.
The second i snap out of my dream and back into the realism of it all, im hoping second by second that your actually here beside me and that i wasn't just dreaming out loud. My body and mind, coming back to the surface of it all, my breathing pick's up and my sense of feel and smell has resurfaced. I smell the sweet and light smell of your hair but im not sure if it's just the after math of my dream. starring at this wall, im afraid to roll over, because if i roll over and your not there i don't know how well i'm going to do or if ill even continue with my day. If I can continue this dream of you, i'll sleep forever, i'll never open my eyes again. I brace myself, cause it's time for me to roll over. Tightening my muscles, stretching my skin, tired bone's cracking, hair moving in all direction's, clothes moving out of place and indenting the bed. I squeeze my eye's tight, causing my pupil's to shrink, hoping that when i open these door's and let my pupil's increase to normal size, there your perfectly shaped body will be. I imagine it before i dare to reveal the truth. The blanket's fall into place where your curves indent, your hair in a wave like the pattern flowing wave's in the ocean, your arm being tucked just under your chin where it meet's your other arm and after a few seconds i can't bare the taunt my imagination is dangling in my face, so i open my eyes and there you are. Exactly how  I imagined it. I take a moment for all this to register, as if i had just won the lottery. In that moment i find myself wrapping my arm's around you and your finger's sliding up my arm and into my hand to lock with mine. This is truely the meaning of "Goodmorning", so goodmorning, babe.
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1
he him, miralo he has nothing special he gets lost among crowds she her, mirala she swears we're beyond racism sexism, citizenism, heterosexism classism, and many other isms they have something in common... they think they're free which is very different to they think (therefore) they're free because indoctrination has infected their thoughts they call themselves patriots as they proudly wear the american flag on small pins they even have a yellow "support our troops" sticker on their bumper i'm telling you she thinks she's free: mrs. successful latina "embraced" by america's corporate world she "broke through" the glass ceiling (then sealed it again) no... other latinas would be too much of a competition they need to have their own merits have it as hard as she had it she feels good about being tokenized she's glad that "America" gave her such opportunities "Why her?" out of so many others she's so lucky so why bother **** the rest as long as "she's free" He thinks he's free: "What's with this feminist ******** he says he raises his fist but not in an empowering way instead he threatens to land it on a woman's face "that's what she gets for trying to be a man" They think they're free "we're over homophobia they're just isolated cases of intolerance..." "i mean as long as you go about your business and don't bother no body i mean don't preach it to everyone don't show it don't say it you're free to be who you are but just hide it... why do you want to get married? it doesn't make sense i mean it might only be a phase..." we think we're free "we do the jobs no body else wants this is not our country you know, we need to follow the rules, be good citizens, don't ask for too much, make sure we don't make them uncomfortable, keep the status quo, stop...they're starring... we should wait... let them set the rules" today: they think they're free but one day they'll think and therefore they will be truly free... xtp los angeles, march 3 2008
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Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
They Think They're Free
he him, miralo he has nothing special he gets lost among crowds she her, mirala she swears we're beyond racism sexism, citizenism, heterosexism classism, and many other isms they have something in common... they think they're free which is very different to they think (therefore) they're free because indoctrination has infected their thoughts they call themselves patriots as they proudly wear the american flag on small pins they even have a yellow "support our troops" sticker on their bumper i'm telling you she thinks she's free: mrs. successful latina "embraced" by america's corporate world she "broke through" the glass ceiling (then sealed it again) no... other latinas would be too much of a competition they need to have their own merits have it as hard as she had it she feels good about being tokenized she's glad that "America" gave her such opportunities "Why her?" out of so many others she's so lucky so why bother **** the rest as long as "she's free" He thinks he's free: "What's with this feminist ******** he says he raises his fist but not in an empowering way instead he threatens to land it on a woman's face "that's what she gets for trying to be a man" They think they're free "we're over homophobia they're just isolated cases of intolerance..." "i mean as long as you go about your business and don't bother no body i mean don't preach it to everyone don't show it don't say it you're free to be who you are but just hide it... why do you want to get married? it doesn't make sense i mean it might only be a phase..." we think we're free "we do the jobs no body else wants this is not our country you know, we need to follow the rules, be good citizens, don't ask for too much, make sure we don't make them uncomfortable, keep the status quo, stop...they're starring... we should wait... let them set the rules" today: they think they're free but one day they'll think and therefore they will be truly free... xtp los angeles, march 3 2008
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75
*Between the night and daylight,      As twilight begins to shower, Comes a lull in the day's preparations,      Cherished as the Kittys' Hour. I hear in the kitchen beside me,      The patter of tiny feet, Rumbles of varying motors      With "meow's" gentle and sweet. Leaping from counter with agile grace      On my shoulder with a purr; Sail grave Thomas and sweet Lady Jane,      And Susan of golden fur. A "meow," and then a long silence,      I know by mischievous eyes, They are scheming and musing together,      To vanquish my weary sighs. With sudden dash from the hallway,      Tortie bounds into my arms! Felines of all colours sit starring,      Delighting me with their charms. Frolicking with skillful ease,      Tossing and batting their catnip-mouse; If I run to escape, they surround me,      They appear to overflow the house. Suffocating me with their kisses,      Furry paws patting my face; And though they have torn the kitchen blinds,      They dazzle me with their grace. I hug you all close in loving arms,      And will n'er let you depart, Nor ****** you dears out to coyotes,      For you each have won my heart. And here shall you dwell forever,      Cherished more each golden day; Till this glad house fall into ruin,      And I in dust shall decay.*                  ~Hilda~
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Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 3:07 AM UTC
The Kittys' Hour.
**** men predatory *** hounds chasing skirts and tights aching **** idiots disciples of Eros Christs of fetish reconciling nothing veiling that principled demeanor of feminist culture "of don't objectify me".....translation sensual form is not natures ruse machine Eve must override override override well the id does not negotiate the superstructure of affected political tele-reality starring the liberal chattering class who speculate male motives to be some vainglorious power trip while corporatized media personalities feign out of control lust as a mental disorder and sit up like shuddering Pekingese yessing the lascivious as a fiction no ladies its not just power theories are not testosterone it is pure unadulterated relentless irreducible urge to merge like the beluga **** channel sea world as you've never seen it before where male dolphins batter and gang bang the weaker *** in search of feral harmony in an overbuilt society yet to become a civilization are we scissored between a wild ****** id of the damed and the Victorian sacred of the damed oh you silky damsels makin men moody and humid pure **** heroine a poison ivy of *** like a rash givin men folk the itch cant stop the twitch rubber ******* in a rubbing frenzy from your soaking heat and odor we are  a rumbling of muttering torments for the forbidden taste of you oooow oooow we are pan in a mad dance for glistening shanks and buttery kisses we are the early bird looking for the worm hunters decreed by the liturgy of heaven and hell a constellation of infatuation and lechery mad with adoration love slaves in a raging furnace of desire *** addicts that just say yes turgid dogs hole sniffers voluptuous monsters all johnny apple seed and sometimes your salvation as you are ours knowing that sometimes real eroticism eclipses morality and yes my darlings* NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
0
Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 12:55 PM UTC
THE TERROR OF WOMEN
**** men predatory *** hounds chasing skirts and tights aching **** idiots disciples of Eros Christs of fetish reconciling nothing veiling that principled demeanor of feminist culture "of don't objectify me".....translation sensual form is not natures ruse machine Eve must override override override well the id does not negotiate the superstructure of affected political tele-reality starring the liberal chattering class who speculate male motives to be some vainglorious power trip while corporatized media personalities feign out of control lust as a mental disorder and sit up like shuddering Pekingese yessing the lascivious as a fiction no ladies its not just power theories are not testosterone it is pure unadulterated relentless irreducible urge to merge like the beluga **** channel sea world as you've never seen it before where male dolphins batter and gang bang the weaker *** in search of feral harmony in an overbuilt society yet to become a civilization are we scissored between a wild ****** id of the damed and the Victorian sacred of the damed oh you silky damsels makin men moody and humid pure **** heroine a poison ivy of *** like a rash givin men folk the itch cant stop the twitch rubber ******* in a rubbing frenzy from your soaking heat and odor we are  a rumbling of muttering torments for the forbidden taste of you oooow oooow we are pan in a mad dance for glistening shanks and buttery kisses we are the early bird looking for the worm hunters decreed by the liturgy of heaven and hell a constellation of infatuation and lechery mad with adoration love slaves in a raging furnace of desire *** addicts that just say yes turgid dogs hole sniffers voluptuous monsters all johnny apple seed and sometimes your salvation as you are ours knowing that sometimes real eroticism eclipses morality and yes my darlings* NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER NO MAN SHOULD EVER TRANSGRESS ANOTHER
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102
Emotional abandonment of the Self by the Self is the greatest DECEIT of all. Becoming your own personal JUDAS, just because it's morally: SAFE? ACCEPTED? PROTECTIVE? What a **** way to kayak your way through life's never ending **** SHOW, starring YOU the **** PUPPET. Full of fear, full of **** Forcing yourself to FEEL or BE anyone but yourself is a fast train to CHRONIC SPIRITUAL CONSTIPATION. baaa baaa
0
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
Forcing Your Feelings **** River - An Ode To Mr. Lahey)
Sounding like some wild soundtrack to a Spaghetti Western starring none other than The Clintster, it were rolling in good vibes with the peeps taking selfies with the band for a backdrop. Two horns poundin' out a happening grove, with a bass player all of four foot nothin'. with a cool round sound. It was cookin' alright, hours after midnight, a Halifax sextet hinting of Tom Waits and the The Bob man. I yawned, I looked around, all those sweet tarts in their skin tights. I yawned again, shook my head as the band was covering Ray Charles... I yawned again and again and realized I am too old to party hardy. But still... 'I can hack it'.. the last thing I said as I headed out the door, homeward bound In a January breeze that had a hint of Spring. end © 2014
0
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
A Knight Out
.simone biles (the gymnast)...                  miles davis (the trumpet guy)...      must be black privilege; wasn't there a movie... starring woody harrelson and wesley snipes? you sure? i thought it was called: white men can't jump... sure as **** ****** can sing church gospel! how's that for privilege?     if you're going to culturally box, and repeatedly punch below the belt... you're quiet likely going to get a reaction... i have an acne wart growing on my *** the size of a cauliflower, it's itchy my brain, it's differentiating between agitate and: lying back... i guess the excess of... look... you may have the excess melanin...     i have lactose tolerance... we're even?!    no?   so how come some smurf, some European hobbit shackle your N.B.A. Goliath(s)?! explain that one to me... if these people were so cock-unsure... how they **** did they tame the Zulu Apache Goliath bodybuilders?!   what the **** i already said, and it was proven... IQ... i don't like it...      but i'm pretty sure that the whites **** more people in terrorist attacks than... camel-jockeys...          it took 3 or over three... to perform the Bataclan Massacre... three... the third of the IQ that required a Breivik...    130 in France... dissociated among 3 attackers that gorged on testicles after the spree... fun, fun fun fun... like: you're trying to say that without irony...     and how many in Norway?     77... i only look at the IQ of killers... so... what's the ratio?     77 / 1    130 / 3 = 43...          like i said... low IQ...               you really want your little racial insurrection? you'll have it, don't worry.. i'll just the narrative...   must be black privy... if you can mash up a jazz compos., right?                 crackers read from a prepared script... you ******* just, "improvise"...           rapping contra talking... **** come to think of it... ******* boys took it too far from your Oreos...            like... too much drums... not enough wind, or strings... too much drumming... pulverizing the ears with drum & bass and what not... if i wasn't deaf prior, i'm deaf by now; ******* boy to Oreo woo-oo-oops boy; same **** different cover.
0
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 9:42 PM UTC
you want war, you'll have your war: came an Oreo for every *******
.simone biles (the gymnast)...                  miles davis (the trumpet guy)...      must be black privilege; wasn't there a movie... starring woody harrelson and wesley snipes? you sure? i thought it was called: white men can't jump... sure as **** ****** can sing church gospel! how's that for privilege?     if you're going to culturally box, and repeatedly punch below the belt... you're quiet likely going to get a reaction... i have an acne wart growing on my *** the size of a cauliflower, it's itchy my brain, it's differentiating between agitate and: lying back... i guess the excess of... look... you may have the excess melanin...     i have lactose tolerance... we're even?!    no?   so how come some smurf, some European hobbit shackle your N.B.A. Goliath(s)?! explain that one to me... if these people were so cock-unsure... how they **** did they tame the Zulu Apache Goliath bodybuilders?!   what the **** i already said, and it was proven... IQ... i don't like it...      but i'm pretty sure that the whites **** more people in terrorist attacks than... camel-jockeys...          it took 3 or over three... to perform the Bataclan Massacre... three... the third of the IQ that required a Breivik...    130 in France... dissociated among 3 attackers that gorged on testicles after the spree... fun, fun fun fun... like: you're trying to say that without irony...     and how many in Norway?     77... i only look at the IQ of killers... so... what's the ratio?     77 / 1    130 / 3 = 43...          like i said... low IQ...               you really want your little racial insurrection? you'll have it, don't worry.. i'll just the narrative...   must be black privy... if you can mash up a jazz compos., right?                 crackers read from a prepared script... you ******* just, "improvise"...           rapping contra talking... **** come to think of it... ******* boys took it too far from your Oreos...            like... too much drums... not enough wind, or strings... too much drumming... pulverizing the ears with drum & bass and what not... if i wasn't deaf prior, i'm deaf by now; ******* boy to Oreo woo-oo-oops boy; same **** different cover.
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90
Gabby Abrego I'll never let you go go unless we go to Mexico and you be come a hobo! Then I'll go. and fetch the so co. so we can dance to disco eat enchiladas with adobo pick the **** out of our Afros! We'll feel so funky, the people will get spunky when we arrive on donkeys, and ride around their towns! We'll befriend all the junkies and give them howler monkeys, it'll be so funny we'll laugh until you cry! Ohh! Gabby Abrego I'll never let you go go unless I get you prego then I'll run like mad! cuz if we had a baby I'd stop being lazy get as famous as THE LADY support you like Eminem did for his baby. So Never Ever leave me Or I'll succumb to Scientology and go even more crazy my world'd become a mystery. I'd rather be a rhino rather be tricked into a ***** rather be married to Bono in a movie starring J.Lo be forced to live with Yoko Ono have red eyes like an albino than to ever be with out Gabby Abrego!!!
0
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 1:01 AM UTC
A silly poem for my best friend, Gabby.
I took my ****** sister Marigold to the cinema, she had asked specifically and eventually (she doesn't speak a lot on account of her awful stammer and amazing cleft palate which has won prizes) so I knew that this was something she really wanted, and I teased for her bad taste when she told me that she wanted to see "Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Charlie and the Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chocolate Factory". It was a Saturday evening and the local picture house was showing a re-run of the classic starring Gene Wilder as the enigmatically stylish ***** Wonka, and not that steaming great pictorial **** served up by Tim Burton and I knew that town would be busy with oiks so as a treat I dressed her up better than usual, and even gave her a hosedown to get rid of the poopy pong. She had stopped crying by the time the feature started and I think the Ooompa Loompa costume grew on her but that maybe the orange paint was a bit of a bad idea as people had stared as it was Day-Glo and she stood out like a bulldog's ******* but I stand by my decision to dye her hair green, it had taken thought and planning; it was meant to add to her excitement of the day, so I meant well, even if I was ineffectual in the end. I sat her on my lap in the picture house but still paid for two seats but I do get one ticket half price though because of her disabilities, so it wasn'€™t all bad, every cloud and all that, you know what I mean? She tends to get a little down every now and then but a £1 cinema ticket partly makes up for being born legless. I knew from past experience that the cinema staff prefer me to carry my stunted sis rather than wheeling her in (I do recall that the time I taped her to her skateboard proved somewhat a disaster - but really, the fat usher had a torch and should have watched her step or otherwise she wouldn't have bust her neck). The Ooompa Loompa costume allowed Marigold to amuse herself during the screening (as there were no leggings to the costume). She barely noticed when the fat little hero got blown up on screen except to dribble "chocolate" from her own little chocolate factory. It was, all in all, quite an eventful outing and one I might consider repeating but probably in a different cinema next time, mainly because we got banned for life when the manager saw the condition of the seat.
0
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
Marigold Goes To The Cinema
I took my ****** sister Marigold to the cinema, she had asked specifically and eventually (she doesn't speak a lot on account of her awful stammer and amazing cleft palate which has won prizes) so I knew that this was something she really wanted, and I teased for her bad taste when she told me that she wanted to see "Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Charlie and the Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chocolate Factory". It was a Saturday evening and the local picture house was showing a re-run of the classic starring Gene Wilder as the enigmatically stylish ***** Wonka, and not that steaming great pictorial **** served up by Tim Burton and I knew that town would be busy with oiks so as a treat I dressed her up better than usual, and even gave her a hosedown to get rid of the poopy pong. She had stopped crying by the time the feature started and I think the Ooompa Loompa costume grew on her but that maybe the orange paint was a bit of a bad idea as people had stared as it was Day-Glo and she stood out like a bulldog's ******* but I stand by my decision to dye her hair green, it had taken thought and planning; it was meant to add to her excitement of the day, so I meant well, even if I was ineffectual in the end. I sat her on my lap in the picture house but still paid for two seats but I do get one ticket half price though because of her disabilities, so it wasn'€™t all bad, every cloud and all that, you know what I mean? She tends to get a little down every now and then but a £1 cinema ticket partly makes up for being born legless. I knew from past experience that the cinema staff prefer me to carry my stunted sis rather than wheeling her in (I do recall that the time I taped her to her skateboard proved somewhat a disaster - but really, the fat usher had a torch and should have watched her step or otherwise she wouldn't have bust her neck). The Ooompa Loompa costume allowed Marigold to amuse herself during the screening (as there were no leggings to the costume). She barely noticed when the fat little hero got blown up on screen except to dribble "chocolate" from her own little chocolate factory. It was, all in all, quite an eventful outing and one I might consider repeating but probably in a different cinema next time, mainly because we got banned for life when the manager saw the condition of the seat.
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47
Sitting at my computer and starring at the screen I'm starting to get bored and feel like I want to scream! I'm bored out of mind without a muse Praying that I soon get an idea to use Looking at my poem links starting to think my work really stinks I finally get inspired and it lights off a spark I'm starting to feel like a glow in the dark I'm trying to get a interesting find but as soon as the electricity goes off so does my mind That was the moment where I get angry, upset and it cant be ignored It repeats it cycle and I'm at the beginning of ''I'm bored''
0
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
Bored Out of My Mind