"stating" poems
You texted me a hello and a Happy New Year
You asked how I was doing and I responded “Doing Well”
I returned your question of “How are you doing”
I followed after with “Did you have a good New Year’s Eve”
You kept your responses simple and vague
You left my second question hanging by only answering with
‘Working a lot’ and stating how happy you were to hear I was doing well
Your short, simple responses gave nothing away
About what has occurred in your life
Since the last time we had a willing and connected conversation
The way you responded left me to wonder
The reason why you contacted me
Your distant responses made it very clear
That this would be the last time you and I would ever talk
This is the end of the two of us
The end of you and I
The end of any possibility of you and I being one
As I quietly sit in the Marketing Room
Thinking about the obvious next step
I waiver on my decision to delete your number off my Blackberry forever
I questioned whether I would regret this decision
Then an old quote by Khalil Gibran came to me:
“If you love somebody let them go, for if they return, they were always yours.
And if they don’t, they never were.”
Believing the truth behind his words,
I proceeded to clearing our messages
And deleting your number off my phone
Until next time..
If there is one..
Only time will tell..
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 2:43 AM UTC
With eager eyes and tempting smile, I beckoned 'cross the wharf
And they returned, a sad reply, stating he must morph
into a man -in pieces then- who puts things back together
Whilst I sit here, and wait and wait, and keep on till forever.
Kingdom comes, piggies fly, time churns soft and slow
Every hour, like the other, shuffling to and fro
Mind is racing, heart is beating, must be with him soon...
He is the sun, he is the stars, he is the solstice moon.
But he is full of hatred, and angry, scary things
That I cannot behold because my covered ears will ring.
I will not hear the wretchedness that billows from his mouth
I will not be the victim of intentions headed south.
Now he’s an angel, under God, and all the better creatures
that prize the gentlest, passionate, souls who mirror all their features. They never asked, only assumed, that I would be alright
But Oh! the torture over one who turned away from light.
So here I wait, on endless shores, until they come for me
Or maybe not, really, who knows, what lies beyond the sea
The water holds the untold words of thousands who've passed on
And here I am, scribbling the script, of stories before dawn.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
Independence is our cry,
pride is our name.
We are all separated by countries and oceans,
but our mindset is one and the same.
The concept of change, we fear;
the idea of an altered lifestyle haunts us,
but the awareness that our home is binding our thoughts
remains as our threshold away from the darkness.
You board the plane, begin to set sail, put on your best shoes and run
away from the chaos, breaking the chains, stating your name to be free.
Your heart is racing as the grasp of new land is just miles within your reach
the only words your mind can make up in that moment are “¡Libre soy alfin!”
The moment is just minutes away now, you can almost feel la tierra
El momento is almost here and you just want to chant “¡LIBERTAD!”
But you can’t. You’re not there yet, only growing more eager.
You’re impatient now; what happened to the claridad?
What happened to that clarity in your mind when you were so sure of what you wanted?
It has been replaced by the fear of not being enough.
It has been replaced by the fear of getting sent back to that confinement you once called home.
Now you realize this new life will be tough.
You step foot en la tierra libre,
the anxiety gets to your bones.
Thoughts race through your mind
there’s disbelief that this is your new home.
The sensation of wandering on clouds,
sleepwalking your life away is overwhelming;
your eyes now resemble that oceanic pathway
whilst los abrazos de abuela you are yearning
The concept of change we fear;
the idea of an altered lifestyle haunts us,
and the awareness that our family is still stitched at the lips
has become our allure back into the darkness.
But independence is our cry,
pride is our name.
Precincts may separate us,
yet our mindset remains one and the same:
¡Que viva la libertad!
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
Our arrogance deceives us.
It blinds us in our walk.
Those poor souls believed us.
They recite us as we talk.
The circles are in motion,
The potions all been taken.
The purpose wasn't spoken
It was entirely mistaken.
Misinterpreted; lovers hating
love like it was over stating
itself. And harvested wealth
like it was the only thing
more important than health.
We are broken.
Our arrogance deceives us.
We are not chosen.
Why did they believe us?
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
The only exciting desire
I need is your voice
Moaning the answer of life,
Telling me you want me
And I tell you that you are
the answer to all the questions
I have
Without words I use my tongue
stating the story of us,
Before you my eyes feast
upon your body,
All of it so smooth and soft
Your sense and taste is something
only the devil could create
I want to trace your curves
taste your body and put it against mine
I know your body like the back of my hands
You are like a drug that sends me into ecstacy
You are the source to my subconscious mind
I find myself rewinding our
love scenes in my daydreams
I see your lips and want them between mine
Resistles you struggle as I tease you with my tongue
I give in to you because I like the way I can dominate you
Your face glows with your smile
You are my divinty sin that gets me high
Your smell is all over my bed
and it brings all these imaginations to my head
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC
Hey B,
Why you acting like a stranger?
I remember when I used to be your favorite.
We used to stay up for hours 'til the latest.
Ain't it funny how things change?
I hate it!
You know we can't just escape ****
That's life.
You gotta man up and face it...Alright?
I always smile just to fake it,
But tonight imma tell you how you made.
I can't ever move on!
When i'm with him I think of you
Yes, I know that's wrong.
I'm not really the type to sing stupid love songs
But when our song comes on I sing along.
Why?
Cuz i'm angry and i'm hurt!
I thought you were the best.
Got me feeling the worst.
I feel something in my chest
When I try to find the words.
I said **** the rest, i'll always put you first!"
That's that **** that gets me tight,
Now it's giving you the nerve,
You thinking that you're better
Running with them *******
Stating that you fed up.
You forgot about the time you were down?
I kept your head up!
How about that life that you said we would set up?
I'm not that straight you know
I got plenty people hitting the line
Ask me how i'm doing,
Imma always say fine.
Baby, i'm a g
You know i keep a straight face.
Why give you the satisfaction?
I about to put you in your place.
When I think about us, I get sick to my gut.
I got pushed to the point that i'll never know love.
Everyone I meet now,
I know I will never trust.
Mean while your niggahs trynna know me.
You thought you was the man, you never broke me.
Don't try to call dibs, you don't own me!
Don't try to meet me, text me, don't phone me.
Hmmm? What's wrong?
Now you feeling lonely?
When I brush you off
That's when you gunna hold me?
Imma tell you exactly what I know b,
Karma's a *****
You shoulda loved the old me
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
I'm half asian so everyone thinks I speak 'asian'
Which just goes to show their ignorance, thinking that's a language
Another strange causation because of my 'asianness' is that I:
Can always win arguements with Wyatt by stating this fact
Was declared a ninja even before my skills were proven
I surprise people with my appearance and when I reveal my ethnicity as they believe initially that I'm mexican, italian, or spanish
Was assumed to have gone to the same church as all the others
Am considered strange, exotic, weird, genius, awesome, and stupid
Am endearingly called a 'short asian woman/lady/girl' by friends
Oh and I love love love love chopsticks, rice, and spicy foods.
Pass the srirachi and pepper please
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 11:47 PM UTC
'come on, ellie, just breathe.' he said to her.
'but, finn i c-'
'stop talking and listen to me for once.' he demanded.
'but, sometimes even to breathe hurts. i can not do it.' she whispered, stating the truth.
'do you love me?'
'of course,'
'then do it for me, ellie. breathe for me. be free.' he encouraged her.
i can't do it, finn.'
'sure you can, i love you.'
'okay, then.' she gave in.
and then, she let out her first and last breath.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
me and gaming
I sit down the hard day of work and lead is behind me now. Sit in my throne and grab my controller. I get on the war zone with my gun in my hand 20 vs 1
I put my mic on. the rules to the game 1 life 20 vs 20 error players lost. Just what i was hoping for.
"There are 20 of you, and only one of me yo... ""
"you gonna give up noob?"
"You didn't let me finish, you should've brought more players."
Then the blood bath starts as bullets and bolts fly past my head in a symphony of violence
and in the slit second when the strings break and they must replace them I emerge from my cover “one shot one **** thats all you got” not time to waste I run and gun taken 'em out with a head shot. Only got five its time to reload. next I hear a tic but no tok look to my left and what do I see glowing blue light slowly creeping towards me no i can’t be. I make a run for it straight for a cave with my heart racing next to me, cant find the others stating to get scared. wait up there guess who I see a ******* ****** waiting for me. he has yet to see me so lets take advantage of this. I take out my pistol aim for the guy and let his brains reach for the sky. but do to my carelessness I step on the only mine and it was game over. I bow my head in shame look at my screen and think.
well off to Minecraft.
were the everything is a block and I’m a king and control my destiny and by a swing of my hand I can destroy and break anything i wish but also with that swing I can create build and make master peaces. And as I’m claiming the Hill Of Sorrow where my hell lives I take a leap of faith and dive straight into the belly of the beast with my sword in hand and armor that shines with the wrath of one thousand white hot blinding suns of hateful furry. all i wish is one thing to get my **** back from last time i was here. I charge and get my left foot wet or should i see get it set on fire because of the lava river i missed.......FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUU.
well off to soul caliber.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 8:25 AM UTC
Sometimes the words I love you swarm like hornets behind my teeth, a phrase so heavy it only has eight letters just like I lost you.
Sometimes in the pause you take before you speak, I wonder if you’re fighting to keep down the same things as I am; trying to swallow a confession that seems less like a secret and more like stating the obvious.
We were funny, we were bad at holding hands, I hated when a car goes over the tracks, you had this way of making silence the loudest sound in the room when it hit the floor.
I made a home out of your hands just like how many beautiful things go without reciprocation.
We seem to have found fault in being whole, somewhere alone the way, we’ve started enjoying breaking things;
Like my ribs when you’re gone and I want to know if you can tell the difference between the absence of my voice and silence.
You are the only thing I’ve ever let go that makes my hands ache.
I’m still trying to piece together what made you lose your faith in me, was it how everything starts with gritting teeth and everything ends with you walking away? I should’ve known, the way you used to hold my back like you were checking it for exit wounds.
It took me 2 car wrecks and 6 shattered mirrors for me to realize that the world has so much more to say when it is silent;
if I didn’t bruise so easily, if I wasn’t looking for a way to be made of a river, if I needed the silence to mean something, then I would ask you to build me out of quiet revenge and goodbyes that stick in your sides like tree branches, I would need you to build me out of reasons to believe instead of reasons to be afraid, I would turn my kneecaps into strawberries in exchange for potter’s hands so I could mild you a bulletproof spirit.
It was silence and your lighter, I was cold, you were drinking; that was our backbone.
You were alone, I was going too fast because sometimes you don’t have to be in the wrong place to be looking for the wrong thing.
I am afraid and you are warm; this is the beginning of a forest fire filled with broken glass shattering in broken homes with broken people inside on a broken piece of land in a city that has too much rain for someone to build an emergency room in.
I spend nights up until my body can’t handle itself any longer,
mornings have come like a hammer to my head-
instead of my face, all I can see in the mirror is an unfamiliar expression,
something like a dead battery.
All I ever wanted was for you to be my fire, I am tired of these old lives and would like to see them burn.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 3:31 AM UTC
These are not, "possibilities,"
decisions are already made.
You do not live in a democracy.
War is coming; Iran and Syria.
Nuclear Supremacy is not an,
"ideal," or notion, it is a fact.
They are stating a fact.
Not opinion, -they intend to do it.
I used To think that if you readE,
read enough, studied, you'D see?
Brighter minds would stop it!
"Fool;" those minds are planning it!
Policy Papers are not policy at all,
they are cushions, a softening pillory.
Designed to lay a foundation.
Where you play sucker for war.
N.W.A
-New World Apocalypse-
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC
Wrote this eons ago, tonight, once more,
spend some human capital, editing...
Something to think about
as we tuck ourselves in.
the young'uns keep on asking me for tips,
secrets, to this art, magical poetry gig,
as if I had any left unrevealed.
recalled this old'n,
from a vintage poetry year,
as a suggestion,
a stating-starting place,
for young poets:
do not self-chain,
let the words take you
where
they lead, write them up
for the rhyme is waiting,
in the heart chest deep down,
not on the screen.
I read you Goodnight Moon,
Falling asleep beside you.
<•>
People stop rhyming...
When first you overcome your fears,
And dare to put on paper your tears,
Give it up, set yourself free from the shackles,
Of thinking a rhyme is a necessity for a
Rooting tooting writing of a
**** good poem
or a barrel of
crackles
If you feel lost,
Want to share the cost,
Feel not bossed,
By a newbie's need
to believe that if it rhymes
Everyone will like your poem
Just fine
And if you get past this stage,
And advance to the next page,
Do not think that writing down a sentence of
Your mind's first up, innermost thoughts,
Is something that will make you
Less lost, heralded, worthy of a parade,
And be blessed with an A
In your Teacher's pet grade book
My heart broke.
I feel bad.
I feel sad
Cause my man/woman left me
And I hope
Someone kicks his or her ***
That Ain't No Poem Neither...
And if you can't help but complain repeatedly
How life ***** and you're feeling blue
extremely indiscreetly,
Don't make me try on your scribblings
intimately indiscriminately,
Read a million, even wrote a few myself
You think you can write?
Then employ a word outside your comfort zone,
Go it alone,
Write just four sentences that will make
The hopeful reader stand up and you,
Twice as much, and shout
**Hallelujah *******
Work. Poetry is work. Hard work.
Don't fret. But, think on it.
Let it come easy, then let it rest,.
Then spend days editing every comma,
And when you love it so much,
You are chest busting bursting,
Why have you not pressed Send already?
Have the sweetest dreams.
In the morning, when you but awake,
A poem will be aborning in thy mind,
And dare I say it, you will find a new freedom
In free verse.
(I know you will slip in a rhyme or two,
I can't help but do it too)
G' nite!
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
belongingness: what does this word mean?
i would explain to my son that belongingness is something you can't touch but feel.
eden, my daughter, would get a kiss.
for many years i was looking for people i could belong to; i was on a quest. and this quest went along with fears and doubts. this quest was ******* the energy out of my mind and out of my soul...
how did this quest began, though? on a strange day, i was asked a very intimate question by a professor; a professor whose background i'm aware of; she asked me:
"do you have a religious or a political past?"
her question came out of nowhere. she blindsided me.
therefore, i wasn't prepared for an answer that could have satisfied her; regardless what my past really is about.
at this point of my life i wasn't aware about my ancestors; but the professor's questions caused me to become it.
"do you have a religious or a political past?"
i do know about my past now; but the answer i gave this lady was not sufficient for her. by the end of our conversation she said:
"i am sorry. can't shake your hand now. have to go toilet."
that was it. oh my, was i disappointed and frustrated; because this certain lady would have opened many doors for me; doors for which she administrated the keys.
you know, there are days in your life that want to you to be desperate. and yes: i was desperate. about being rejected. and that i wasn't able to have access to dorrs that lead to important conferences, meetings and to important people.
but you know what? it doesn't matter anymore.
because here, on hellopoetry, i have found a place of belogningness.
and what my real past is will remain hid: a secret in a purple-colored casket i have the key to.
hellopoetry is a place of belongingness. not just for me but for many many kind-hearted people. and i am not stating this from an opportunist's view: i can feel you guys here and sometimes i sense kindred spirits.
Dec 22, 2019
Dec 22, 2019 at 6:30 AM UTC
A man who competed in many bodybuilding contest back in his day
It was sheer determination in every way
A feast of Bodybuilding titles in what he achieved
It was his mind staying focused and not being deceived
I have known this Bodybuilding pro from years passed
Back in his day, this Bodybuilder had plenty of muscle mass
Well the time capsule has moved on, and the Bodybuilder then not being a senior remaining strong
The senior Bodybuilder of today trains with even more intensity
Training really hard in stating, ‘He is not really old”
Look at me now and just behold
The weights being the push in don’t stop
This is what made him a champion that kept him on top
It’s the weights giving encouragement that you will succeed
Regardless of senior age, you will proceed
The same champion being a senior will reach the top again
It is a new day to begin
You can expect accomplishments until the very end.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC
Worlds physical? Or worlds mental?
It makes all the difference.
Without the sciences it wouldn't matter either way
The last time I was taken from earth without moving?
Excepting when reading, with math.
Tesselations and fractals and numbers
Numbers have a flow all their own
Without numbers, meter and rhyme couldn't be
Even now, without numbers this discussion could not be held
Even now this typing is numbers
It may not look it, but its all ones and zeroes
The angle and curvature of every letter defines language
I say nay my friend, nay
I never spoke the words declaring math and science the crown of humanity
And the words stating english its clothes
They are important, both in their own way,
But think of this: you cannot do math
Nor calculate the distance from venus to the
Andromodean galaxy without math
But think also of this: communication may exist without english
Numerical codes and codexes and letters written entirely in numbers or symbols
Do exist
I dare not refute the value of english, but do you argue the language or the study?
The study can be done away with and easily
Put to rest, as it had to be created
The language too was created and came from
Some mother language
But we always had math.
Does not even an ape know that an even split
To a banana is half?
Apes have no words as we think of them
But still, they do not have english
They don't have a grammar and spelling system nor manner of speaking,
They communicate perfectly well, even without words
But how are they to place value on objects without math?
Even some crude understanding of value
Is math
A banana must be worth less than two, no?
English resides on emotion and feeling, whereas math and numbers rest upon fact
How does one win an arguement without numbers?
Even now you use them.
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 12:26 PM UTC
I found an empty book, it's labelled biology- grade nine,
fake lines ran across the book, never any real content,
to feel content with what I read was an impossible matter,
scattered diagrams of human anatomy too far from realism
because realistic diagrams would include labels to hearts
with coloured charts stating that 'this may fall apart-
not by fat barricades, but to paraphrase a different place,
Neruda chases the stars and from afar as the cages of ribs
would rip and sometimes, just enough to have felt loved,
to feel enough with being held for just a night, a short time,
but life is built beyond a biology book.
It is so strange that I have learnt so much more about life
than ninth grade biology because being biologically correct
doesn't ***** the hairs on my back as an assortment of words
like an assortment of birds aren't really meant to be described
as assortments and a biology book isn't really meant to describe life.
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 6:04 AM UTC
Went to a party lastnight
It was Ganna be fun
I was with my awesome boyfriend
I really believed he was "the one"
I drank a lot more than I should've
And He had quiet a few too
Couldnt speak the word I should've
I didn't realize what he would do
I woke up to him on top of me.
He penetrated me more than once
When I asked him what was happening
All he could say was what now you wake up?
He kept saying I didnt remember
But actually I remember it all
It was a horrible pain
I ran out the room to call.
But he had hidden my phone.
I locked myself in the bathroom
Somehow he unlocked the door
I tried to leave but there wa no room
There was no exit for me at all
People tell me is wasn't ****
Because we were dating
But if your too drunk to say no
That's a **** I'm stating.
How can I tell people?
No one will believe me
They didn't believe me the last time
Why waste my time breathing
Should I stay silent
Pretend that I'm ok?
Should I tell the cops?
Should I run away?
The pain I feel
And the despair
I was betrayed
But will anyone care enough
to listen and try to save
...me?
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 3:54 PM UTC
Law, say the gardeners, is the sun,
Law is the one
All gardeners obey
To-morrow, yesterday, to-day.
Law is the wisdom of the old,
The impotent grandfathers feebly scold;
The grandchildren put out a treble tongue,
Law is the senses of the young.
Law, says the priest with a priestly look,
Expounding to an unpriestly people,
Law is the words in my priestly book,
Law is my pulpit and my steeple.
Law, says the judge as he looks down his nose,
Speaking clearly and most severely,
Law is as I've told you before,
Law is as you know I suppose,
Law is but let me explain it once more,
Law is The Law.
Yet law-abiding scholars write:
Law is neither wrong nor right,
Law is only crimes
Punished by places and by times,
Law is the clothes men wear
Anytime, anywhere,
Law is Good morning and Good night.
Others say, Law is our Fate;
Others say, Law is our State;
Others say, others say
Law is no more,
Law has gone away.
And always the loud angry crowd,
Very angry and very loud,
Law is We,
And always the soft idiot softly Me.
If we, dear, know we know no more
Than they about the Law,
If I no more than you
Know what we should and should not do
Except that all agree
Gladly or miserably
That the Law is
And that all know this
If therefore thinking it absurd
To identify Law with some other word,
Unlike so many men
I cannot say Law is again,
No more than they can we suppress
The universal wish to guess
Or slip out of our own position
Into an unconcerned condition.
Although I can at least confine
Your vanity and mine
To stating timidly
A timid similarity,
We shall boast anyway:
Like love I say.
Like love we don't know where or why,
Like love we can't compel or fly,
Like love we often weep,
Like love we seldom keep.
4k
Sometimes you just have to accept the things that you cannot change.
Like, you can compulsive lie your *** off but it still cannot change what is true.
They say that the truth is the
hardest pill to swallow,
so instead I crush it up and I snort it.
Even if there were things that I could change I fear I'll just make it even worse,
so I mission abort ****
I lack the ability to actually change me,
and my courage is cowardly.
I'm hopeless, but I really do hope
that things will hurt less.
I'm useless, but I don't think that
I'll ever use less.
If not this, then it would be that.
It's all relative Nonsense where overall
you were just another substance.
But who am I to deprive misery of
its love for company,
honestly how could I possibly
maintain stability and be granted
any serenity, when all that is
surrounding me and inside of me is constant insanity ?..
Yeah, it's called Drug Abuse,
but is the term "Drug Abuse"
and the overall meaning behind it
really that simple ?..
In which being limited to the technical bottom line meaning and stating that by doing drugs you are abusing those drugs.
Where in other words the users
are apparently the abusers of the drugs that they use,
but isn't it possible that the drugs
actually abuse us too ?..
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 4:38 PM UTC
An eccentric free spirit
A major let down, no one understands the blunt sounds
A neighborhood built up by the ****** society, half naked puffed out chests
I'd rather pick my lilacs and dance to Joan Jett then deal with their meetings
I will celebrate my homemade life with a button stating,
"Save the wine who cares about the rest"
Freedom from the voices that screech
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 10:44 PM UTC
the narrative does not cling to classicalism of stating whether the pronoun usage is either singular or plural or both to allow an armchair of expression; after all... there's enough for us to bypass the classical philosophical debate about subject and object, simply investigating pronoun usage in relation to singularity or pluralism.
there’s a theory where poetry came from,
one read: cleopatra wanted to hear sweet-nothings
calibrating a razor with a viper’s kiss...
another read: she báthory?
she báthory? she the one that turned milk into blood?
she can burn in hell.
i thought we were un-dialectical in the realms of concern?
no... you see... poetry came from punctuated-impressionism...
or a fear of it... punctuation of course, not from the impressionism...
poets fear punctuation...
give them a semi-colon
and
they
treat
it
like a sidelined line of verse.
this is poetry in mathematical equations:
i had a pear(,)
it was a spare(.)
i had a care for traffic(-)
so i missed( )
the expressions and started using an obelisk to quarter up the mammoth
into chop suey...
poets simple say: next line! when prose says next paragraph
and the prized execution of the 100m sprint . . . (.)
that’s universal alpha romeo with alfa bravo charlie delta (echo)...
come on in the u-turn... give us a smile......... :),
poets says... i need breathing space
without sentenced timing of silence, for the toad to feed inspiration
and envy!
no wonder you came with the alpha - zulu
alphabet given that you used ɪɡ and zoʊ...
so tell me... where’s this copernican west upside down
(this heliocentric west with east being the big bang)?!
i'd swear the thing stopped orbiting in circles
and a thing that's on it's thought started to become
orbital... a fashion sense of the 60s 70s 80s 90s repeated -
that's right, the whole thing became heliocentric
and we became narcissists instead of solipsists
in the geocentric system of worked-up plagiarism
with adequate excuses.)
it's here it the poets apprehensive of punctuation symbology
and instead writing "sparingly,"
to write, e.g.:
i
hate
this
love
affair
claimed
to
be
the
world...
i
rather
chisel
chequers
into
geometry
of
x4
90º.
makes sense poets begot fear of
punctuation and not grammar, they
serviced to explore nothing else,
leaving grammar open long enough to *****
mathematics in... remember...
poets are firstly concerned with punctuation...
secondly with grammar...
philosophy for poets is grammar;
**** i'm um um so drunk i'll need to revise.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 9:27 PM UTC
written September 10, 2014
"All these old folk sippin on their coffee complaining about drug dealing, I wonder how they'd be feeling
If they knew what they were drinking was a drug
And all this talk about blacks vs whites
One man claims 'oh I'm not racist' but holds his views tight
About straight marriage
Claiming homosexuality is okay but if you're gay to stay away because he doesn't want you lifestyle publicly portrayed
They complain about the gays but also don't know that their daughter once went in a room with another girl and had her way
Straight, gay, lesbian - it's all the same
People complain about them all as if stating your opinion is going to stick out from another's
And how about this talk on teen mothers?
Complaining how abortion should be illegal yet she doesn't even know the other?
Are you expecting a child who has dreams and hope
To give up and raise a child because their daddy was addicted to dope?
Nope.
Your attitude on abortion is absurd
Have you heard - that it's not qualified as ******
Or are you going to be close minded and let the girl suffer from her one mistake?
It's time to awake
And think about what decisions we really need to make
Like stricter security in schools, so they can't keep getting shot up by fools
And dealing with the homeless
I'm sure they would be blessed
It's time for people to understand priorities
And realize 'two men's love does not affect me'
All these old folk need to mind their own **** business
And let the new generation take over"
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
Some stand on the corner and seek a donation.
Stating nothing more.
I believe some of the nicest people, are the homeless?
Now, the meanest are?
Mmmm those with negative comments.
Why?
Don't they get a job?
Good point?
Except, those that donate do so from the heart.
And yes, some are hustlers with a job?
But those with cars might not be homeless at all.
We know not their stories and many have a testimonial to encourage another.
But in my heart, I believe the homeless, are some of the nicest people?
Have you been around those judgemental church folks?
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 10:42 PM UTC