"stats" poems
Being a coach is hard
Winning isn't everything
It all stats during practice
Arrive early to prep for the team
The ones who want it show up on time want it
The best players show up late
Running bases conditioning for the game
Batting cages to help with the swing
Playing catch helping the team work as a unit
Till the day of the big game
Slide to the base with technique practiced
Cutoff play to make an out
Team functions without doubt
Play hard play right win or loss giving it your all
Coach does right by the team no need to fight
Lets win and take the season play and do
What the team does best play softball
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
Even if I get hate messages saying imma dumb geek,
My favorite thing to do in Rainbow 6 is spawn peek.
I choose not to reinforce any freakin' walls,
Cause I'm the best on my team and pre-fire the halls.
They call me sweaty boi cause all I play is Ela,
But hey man I got news for ya--you're a noob lil' fella.
If ya boi be attackin', ya know I be using ash,
No one can hit me when I use that 3 speed dash.
I breach the wall and throw some stuns,
I run on in and fire my guns.
At the end of every round I end up with an ace,
My stats have basically broke the R6 database.
So yeah you can just call me wuhbzz, or just god for short,
Cause I'm the best you'll ever see, T don't need any retorts B)
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 8:42 AM UTC
Well let’s peek into the kitchen of Lucy and Ethel to see the baking of this 7 Layer Cake
On cue in take
Ricky is having a party in his home regarding his 10th Anniversary in managing the Night Club called “A little bit of Cuba”
He wanted something fancy
Did he say fancy?
There’s no telling what Lucy has baked into that cake
Lucy and Ethel are busy baking away
But somehow that cake is going to cause people to make a quick getaway
Now remember, this is not the Pillsbury bake off, but should say “Revenge with back off”
At this point, you are allowed to cough
The cake is in the pan and ready for the oven
As the cake is baking, Lucy and Ethel are entertaining the guest
This is not at any one’s request
While Lucy talks about Hollywood and show business, do you smell something burning?
Luc y shouts, “My cake!”
But was it too late?
Lucy and Ethel rushed to the oven
The cake was half burned and didn’t rise
Why am I not surprised?
Meanwhile, what is Lucy and Ethel going too serve for dessert?
Lucy says, “I have a plan”
Let’s open a can of fruit cocktail and add it inside the burned cake
But Ethel stats with, “How will the guest respond?”
Lucy proclaims, “Who cares, they can’t know the cake was burned
Well the dessert will be served
Think on eat at your own risk being observed
As Lucy and Ethel serve the cake, suddenly one of the guest get sick from eating the cake
Lucy of course starts to cry
Yet the baking that cake was a good try
Eat at your own risk said I.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
The imaginers of now were children once,
each day they each imagined tomorrow.
Their daddies had just won the war
happy days were really here again, this time.
---
Now, we see what we see, it's not what we saw.
And this is better than I imagined.
My first oral book report was on 1984, in 1962.
Percentages and stats, the odds,
out of 8 billion…
I carry my weight, saltwise,
I'm light, too. Immaterial in fact.
I watched the internet take form
before my very eyes,
magi technic never seen since Darius the Mede.
Good job, geeks.
Reared on radio waves your
grandfathers never heard,
your signal receptors from mito-mom,
oh, what a plan. The promised ones.
Many sons.
hmmm 60 cycle white noise in the field,
the field of fields,
Future Farmers of America and stuff
Powers we imagined,
a color TV we could watch
in the backseat for days on Route 66,
a restaurant just for kids
Toys 'r' Us oh, wow,
those came and went
and our Grand kids
are imagining tomorrow,
doin' fine with less of what we thought was cool,
taking for granted all I
accepted as granted, in the "It is Finished"
Golden Parachute
Package deal,
Grace and Peace
that multiplies.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 4:32 AM UTC
It had to be a yes
It coulda been a sure
There ain't no way to know why don't you go and ask the *****
I'll blame it on the Drinks
no matter what you thinks
**** it up to having fun outside of roller rinks.
Blame it on my Dad
add up all he had
Never had the time talk but yo he wasn't Bad.
But Don't blame it on the ra rah rah raw ape Culture!
Blame it on the hips
the rubbing and the dips
**** a rubber neways it woulda ****** ripped
I asked that ***** twice
don't I sound nice
Check my stats wow Now you know she wanna slice
Hey Hey it wasn't me, It's spaghetti strapped tees
skirt above the knees
my eyes are steady sayin please
I can't control my blink
they way you dress in pink
I'm the best to women no matter what they ****** think
But Don't blame it on the Rap ra ra raw ape Culture!
I saw you from a far
you walked up to the bar
It must have been a sign from god so now your in my car
Of course you are a tease
there's no way that I could leave
A damsel in distress in need of what I gotta see
No one believes that I
could
ever be apart
of
something had to make me
act that way
(YOU)
ain't me
It Won't happen again
boo
believe me cause
I need too
hold on to my status
as the baddest
of the good dudes
So I'll Blame it on the Dress
Girl I won't confess
Blame it on my Name
that got you feeling all that shame
or you can Blame it on the Ra Rah rah Raw ape Culture.
Blame it on the Ra rah Rah raw ape **** Culture.
Blame it on the Drinks
forgetting what you think
Blame it on the Money
cause we all could use some Honey,
Blame it on the Ra Rah rah Raw Ape **** Culture
Blame it on the ra Rah ha ha ha Raw ape Culture!
Soon You'll be a wake
have time to contemplate
No matter what you do
they'll favor me before you
Say whats on your mind
Sell your rhyme to Time
Manufacture a movement
hashtag a catchy tag line
I objectify ya body cause I'm picking up the tab
calling you a goddess but I'll never call a cab
Tell'n me ya problems my shoulder is your tissue
would it make it better If I just got with you
the scratches on ya body are old bf issues
Even Judge and Jury will straight up diss you
So you can Blame it on my Dad
The one I never had
Blame on the rain
*** you faking just for fame
You can
Blame it on the Ra ra rah Raw ape **** Culture
Blame it on the Ra ha ha ha ha **** Culture.
I'm saying what you want
You didn't look that drunk
I make you feel good bout your body
Call me Trump
My hands are all up on you
but you didn't run so I got you
and
I'll blame it on the Stress
the money and success
I'll blame it on the way you looked
standing by my desk
So Blame it on the Ra Rah Rah Raw ape **** Culture
Blame it on the Ra ha Rah Ha ha Haha **** Culture....
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
I'm a Kool g rockin' coogis poppin' coochies
Haters get murked like Colhese my rap lease
Debutin' numero uno the heavy weight sumo
Born on Jupiter raised on Earth my heart's colder than Pluto
Mic judo flows stickin' of ya corticals
Check me in the articles I be the broken particle
Of the universal ya need rehearsal **** goin' commerical
I lay raps like a hearse flow for rappers funeral
I a criminal none keep gats by the abdominal rhymin' phenomenal the mighty Apollo
Blazin' my cocoa flippin' crime like Bardellino
One luv to my nino got it locked like a Vegas casino
We checkin' ya dough at the front door so stop ya show
Fronting and stunting once my nines get the hunting
Bullets spikin' like kickers punting raw taunting
Game hungriest similiar to the lochness
Mon-star far from subpar rhymes ride bizzare
A pharcyde takin' ya into a spiritual homicide converged to the angelic hide
Still a crime shame all of 'em say the same
Thing flexin' diamonds on they pinky rings yet another sad soul that sings sub siblings
To the underworld debators contract initiator so you can create a
Pace between the stage and the audience face
**** that rather keep a gat tucked in the front or the back
With wisdom to rack
Imagine that fools breakin' for stats? see where my heart at?
Diggin' reachin' into the minds of the youth with the brutal truths
Chippin' my tooth
From killin' booths once I plot ya will ya loose
bringin' the ghetto blues and cruising *****
Still a sober jealous God am I call me Jehovah
Tactics of a Cobra one strike it's over
Venomous ridiculous hataz so conspicuous
Hatin' us only to anger my artillery surplus and who bust?
More rounds than Matt Dillion coatin' ya brains
With my lyrical penicillin stealin'
Back the spotlight
Catch the bright sunshine that stares into my mind
A Pharoah prophecy laid in the back of me
Head til I touch my final resting bed I'll embed
The realist **** ya ever heard shooting a bird
To all my enemies I blast at 'em with as the bullets herd
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 12:40 PM UTC
the girlie man of Australian politics
had the term coined just for him
the tough man Arnie Schwarzenegger
from California was thinking of him
Bill Shorten is a *****
when it comes to fiscal matters
that's why his statements
on the budget are all in tatters
soft approaches toward
spending will never do
the nation's finances are in need
of a tightening *****
the treasury office stats
don't mislead of go awry
a salient tale they tell
about a well running dry
there are no Jesus Christ figures
in Canberra to divide the loaves and fishes
a certain amount is in the nation's war chest
which must fulfill the people's many wishes
the Shorten alternative economic policy
has great sieve holes in it
the nation's well being under it
would be rendered unfit
at the end of the day
the taxpayer always pays
so the ledger should be in balance
without any stalling delays
fiscal responsibility
is good for a nation's health
marshmallow centered Shorten
has no interest in stock piling our wealth
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
*we are witness to atrocities
committed by regime
over its peoples
over time*
1.
we are witness..
shattering glass of reality arranged into chosen shard-feeds
like omni-gov surveillance into meticulous mind-grafts
spluttering eternal-stats for public mind control
spewing mini-truths of perpetual war raids
disillusionment of history forever rewritten
control supply-and-demand
create dark-cloaked dilemma and monitor shortage and famine
make-believe elements so well played to auto-frenzied latch
thinking is degraded and actions.. well, less said
2.
diligent and loyal yet harbour secret-hatred
feed visions stilted by politrix
deception and manipulation
propaganda is the oleaginous-game by wand-over-mind
totalitarian is the kingpin-holder of cards
and yet, who is really being played!
eternal marionettes on a conveyor-belt
can't even play with yourself alone
your **** your **** your every move..
watched - surveyed - and studied
by that ubiquitous-bulge eye you cannot escape
right opposite your low hard-bed
you're broken into popping-parts
that YOU won't recognise!
thoughtcrime-police is gonna accost ya
get up, comrade.. get UUUUUUUUP!
3.
we are witness
life-tube covered in darkened vapour-swirls
we are witness
children conditioned to watch their parents.. too closely
we are witness
truth so smothered, now re-fed by repeat-metaphor
we are witness
dictata.. dictata..
we are witness
austere existence in a tacky one-room flat
we are witness
subsist on black-wheat and imitation-repast
we are witness
regurgitate the party-dialect on and on and on
(after a while, we end up half-believing.. )
*only the clock which strikes thirteen
can smell the charred-reality
as leftover-truth is shoved
into incendiary obsolescence*
tick-a-damn-tock
and that would be..
one
S T - 26 sept
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 11:53 AM UTC
Never judge a book by its cover - they say.
Never believe a man's word over his actions - they say.
Never trust without reason - they say.
Why not? - I say.
Humanity (as a virtue) is being crippled by humans as they
stride
past the crippled man, hunched-back and desperate to extend,
to stand up,
to reach out
for that can of coffee at the grocery store.
As they violate, debilitate and penetrate our
minds by starving
us of
education
and
taunt
us
with
grant
money.
As they reduce our
complexity and significance and capabilities
to
stats
charts
numbers
lines
dots
.
As they stand, staring
up
eleven floors
at a flailing, failing student ready to
jump.
As they stereotype us
into boxes
that we use to hold our belongings -
our interior design.
As they spend more
money in one day
than they
pay
the gardener over
a week.
As they scoff down ketchuped french fries
after saying they were
starving
whilst they edge
forward
at the
robot
to
ignore
hungry begging children.
As they complain about being
alone
when the others around them are also
human.
That's just it.
The 'they' that we always speak of,
'They'
are us.
Unsheltered, not oblivious -
we see the misery, suffering,
pathetic pain -
but we are ignorant of the
barefoot woman with
a load
on her head and
a life
on her back,
asking for a
lift.
Some of us see the strain
but convince ourselves that our efforts would be
insignificant,
assure ourselves that it is
hopeless,
we are helpless.
Science and religion
seem like parallel lines but
they
converge on the point that
Mankind
is a superior species.
'Made in his image.'
'Increased cranial capacity, developed the ability to reason.'
Yet we use that magnificence to justify our
INcapability?
Advanced beings in an age of connectivity and
so disconnected from the essence of our own kind.
We decide
to be
alone.
There are rainbows of
'umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu'
but Ubuntu becomes
'don't want to'
and apathy is what makes us insignificant
- indifferent and inhumane.
To those who
can read this,
we
are hypocrites
- together -
which means that we are never alone and thus we are made
able.
We are not helpless, we just
Help Less.
I refuse to hope less in humanity
and allow us to be coaxed into an inferiority-complex
when we can have
progress and
success but
Only after we have
oneness.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 11:00 AM UTC
Cocoa. My mom's whole world. Her pride and joy. She's in real trouble folks. Last night she consumed over an ounce of dark chocolate. She also got into chicken bones. She needs divine intervention. We can't afford to take her to the veterinarian again. All prayers and good thoughts are appreciated. I am weeping. She's an important member of our family. She may only be a dog. The she is as important to God has anyone else. And my mother would be devastated by her loss.
I may not be able to read this morning. I'm going to be in My Sanctuary on the front porch praying. I'm not going to church because my job now is to watch after the dog. She is a beautiful little animal. A deer head chihuahua. The original breed of that dog. She was the companion animal to the Toltec. Very rare because she is also a brindle brown. I saved her from an abusive puppy mill ******* and raised her all on my own. I love her. I have no children. She's my baby. Please help. Thank you.
PLEASE REPOST THIS SO OTHERS SEE IT! I don't care about stats. But Cocoa needs all the good thoughts and prayers she can get! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Catherine :')
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 12:20 PM UTC
It was 29° (f) degrees this morning with a waning gibbous (¾) moon. Still, as we started our run, it was dark enough that the world was rendered in black and white. Lisa was a sepia print of herself while Charles was a large, quiet shadow, a dark visual noise pattern.
We usually jog from our dorm, down to and along New Haven Harbor and back. Lisa and I love the ocean. The wind was in our faces this morning and there were no sparkling moon refractions in our direction, which made the water musou and colorless.
I’ve gotten my outfit down to a science, leggings under shorts, four long sleeve, dry-wicking spandex tops (layering is important), a power-wool-earflap-beanie, thermal neck gaiter and quantum, icebreaker gloves (with touch-screen compatibility) - you gotta dress warmly but be able to shed layers as needed.
I listen to audiobooks while we run. Right now I’m on book 5 of the ‘The Expanse’ series. I don’t have time to read anything fun these days, so I listen to science-fiction/fantasy while I workout. I love the new AirPod Pro feature that automatically turns the sound down if anyone talks.
I wear a fitbit charge around my right ankle and my Apple watch as well - they both track my run - the fitbit is more accurate but my watch sends my workout stats to my siblings - we’re uhh, sort of competitive.
At first, as we came up on the harbor, it was impossible to see the intersection of the two dark oceans - the great terrestrial and the greater galactic - but as we turned for home, there was an atmospheric scatter of blue at the edge of the horizon, heralding the sunrise on our retreating backs.
musou = one of the darkest shades of black
Nov 2, 2023
Nov 2, 2023 at 7:41 PM UTC
it’s just a word
that’s what i tell myself
so the breath doesn’t leave my body when i see it
or hear it
but for some reason
those 8 letters shake me to my core
they make me lose all thought
all reason
all sense of normal
and i don’t know why
because it’s me
i don’t know why those eight letters
have that much power over me
maybe it’s because i’ve read it a million times in my textbooks
seeing the stats
and pictures with the stick thin girls
looking in the mirror
maybe it’s because i can’t admit to myself
i actually am those statistics
i cant process that i’m the word
because it’s only in textbooks
it’s only in the movies
that’s not who i am
that will never be me
maybe it’s because i don’t see myself as it
i don’t see myself as the girl in the textbook
or as a percentage in a chart
i don’t see myself as a definition
or something people study
something that people can’t understand
or maybe it’s because i hate the word
because it only reminds me of complete and utter pain that used to be my life
maybe it remind me of everything i lost
or that were robbed from me i should say
my happiness, my passion, my life
my entire life was taken by those eight letters
so maybe that’s why i cant bear to even look at them
maybe it’s because that means i am it
maybe if i see the word too many times
or say it enough
it will become me
it will be who i am now
and what am i then
i’m not alive that’s for sure
what am i if that’s all i am
if that’s who i’ve become now
what do i have
if my whole existence is based upon those 8 letters
i wish i could tell you
i really do
because i want to to know too
i want to know why i flinch at the sight of the word
why i cant stand to hear it
let alone have it leave my mouth
i want to sit here and tell you
that i’m better
and those 8 letters are behind me
but to be honest i don’t think they ever will be
maybe that’s it
maybe that’s what i’m afraid of
never being able to forget it
or past it
just stuck with it
being haunted by it every second
because i see it everywhere
it follows me and teases me
everywhere i go
so maybe if i don’t say it
it will leave me alone forever
or maybe just maybe
the word makes it all a little too real
maybe when i say it
i feel the pain
and hurt
that i used to
i see the joy i was robbed of
for so long
i see who i was before
i see it all so clearly when i see that word
and maybe that
is just too real to handle
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 6:05 PM UTC
COME round me, little childer;
There, don't fling stones at me
Because I mutter as I go;
But pity Moll Magee.
My man was a poor fisher
With shore lines in the say;
My work was saltin' herrings
The whole of the long day.
And sometimes from the Saltin' shed
I scarce could drag my feet,
Under the blessed moonlight,
Along thc pebbly street.
I'd always been but weakly,
And my baby was just born;
A neighbour minded her by day,
I minded her till morn.
I lay upon my baby;
Ye little childer dear,
I looked on my cold baby
When the morn grew frosty and clear.
A weary woman sleeps so hard!
My man grew red and pale,
And gave me money, and bade me go
To my own place, Kinsale.
He drove me out and shut the door.
And gave his curse to me;
I went away in silence,
No neighbour could I see.
The windows and the doors were shut,
One star shone faint and green,
The little straws were turnin round
Across the bare boreen.
I went away in silence:
Beyond old Martin's byre
I saw a kindly neighbour
Blowin' her mornin' fire.
She drew from me my story --
My money's all used up,
And still, with pityin', scornin' eye,
She gives me bite and sup.
She says my man will surely come
And fetch me home agin;
But always, as I'm movin' round,
Without doors or within,
Pilin' the wood or pilin' the turf,
Or goin' to the well,
I'm thinkin' of my baby
And keenin' to mysel'.
And Sometimes I am sure she knows
When, openin' wide His door,
God lights the stats, His candles,
And looks upon the poor.
So now, ye little childer,
Ye won't fling stones at me;
But gather with your shinin' looks
And pity Moll Magee.
2.3k
Because you are wonder-bread-woman--
bearer of two and a half children,
five feet and four point six inches
of dapper domestication.
soaring, you are at the peak of the bell curve, and when you slip
it's on spilled milk, never cried for.
wistful, you stand on the edge of the bed and reach,
manicure outstretched towards plastic glow in the dark stars
upwards of your eight-foot-walls,
because after all,
ceiling's the limit.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
I know you loved looking at the stars
Sitting outside and admiring at what's ours
Shooting stats and cigarettes
I'm full of regrets
I should have come to see you
But I didn't have a clue
I know you loved looking at the stars
Sitting outside in the humid night
Where everything still felt bright
You seemed so happy I came to your side
It's still so raw inside
I look at the stars alone tonight
And I know it will eventually be alright
Because instead of looking at the stars, you're now a part of the constellations you used to describe to me
You're up there, finally free.
Stargazing with you means that now looking at the night sky
I don't have to say goodbye.
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 7:18 PM UTC
BID a strong ghost stand at the head
That my Michael may sleep sound,
Nor cry, nor turn in the bed
Till his morning meal come round;
And may departing twilight keep
All dread afar till morning's back.
That his mother may not lack
Her fill of sleep.
Bid the ghost have sword in fist:
Some there are, for I avow
Such devilish things exist,
Who have planned his ****** for they know
Of some most haughty deed or thought
That waits upon his future days,
And would through hatred of the bays
Bring that to nought.
Though You can fashion everything
From nothing every day, and teach
The morning stats to sing,
You have lacked articulate speech
To tell Your simplest want, and known,
Wailing upon a woman's knee,
All of that worst ignominy
Of flesh and bone;
And when through all the town there ran
The servants of Your enemy,
A woman and a man,
Unless the Holy Writings lie,
Hurried through the smooth and rough
And through the fertile and waste,
protecting, till the danger past,
With human love.
1.8k
Happiness & Misery
I tend to compliment
My confidence
With complaints
On how common place
My plain
Life is
The great times
In complexity
Simply
End
Too quickly
Being me
Became a meme
A trend
A fad
That lasts temporarily
As I change
The wardrobe
Of my beliefs
To best suit the situation
For times of war
Or times of peace
Offering myself
A sacrificial ME
Should suffice
For their superficial
Needs
Supplying their demand
Of wants
The difference they cannot see
I
No better than them
No better
Than what they seek
Not realizing
I
In this life
Is all I need
To proceed
To “ever after”
Happily
The other
Side of my brain
Supplies
The pain
And suffering
Inside of me
Ushering
The alternative
Reality
To my native
Faculty of thoughts
Felicity fails
And the facility
Of fury
Derails
My train of thought
This casualty
Casually causes
The worst case scenario
The battle within
Never ends
Each state of mind
Debates with
Indubitable facts
And stats
To seal my fate
The future lies
In mystery
Happiness
Or misery?
The answers hard to see
I still don’t cant find the key
To unlock the doors
To happiness in misery…
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 4:13 PM UTC
This is nothing new.
Kids are not the same, just as you and your neighbor or friend are not the same, so stop comparing us.
I'll admit it, generations have changed dramatically. I can try to blame technology or media or whatever the case may be, but we are not as strong as you guys were. Our physique and mental capacity are nowhere near strong as yours were.
Nowadays you can't simply chase your kid out and tell them to go defend themselves every time they get bullied. Bullying nowadays doesn't just end physically, it follows you on social media.
We die in silence because we got nobody to talk to, because we are scared of being judged by our own parents.
We not attention seekers, we just need you to get to know us. Know what we go through everyday, at home, school, work. Listen to us, dont judge. Give us motherly/fatherly love and advice.
Maybe yes, depression is a White People illness, but have you seen the stats? It's killing us too.
SAVE US!
Sincerely
# DyingInSilence
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 3:25 AM UTC
Martin Buber, I and thou,
du, nicht Sie,
see, I am, thou art and it is
nothing other.
Okeh, the sound, not the letter runes
to fix my meaning
to your way of taking grace
as granted.
Simple magi?
I am acted on by your you, I see,
how strange I seem, from you, looking
out
for one,
I say, one, may say, what I am then not
accountible for, or something like that, eh
no-account, you know
who you seemed to be in that one book, you passed
through
in a trance, thinking this feels real, as any reason given
listen, we are not the first to make this connection,
it only feels crazy at first, then it turns, eh
turn turn turn a spiral ********
as from the too small to imagine past the last edge
of ever and back to now,
speed of thought imaginable due to vast increase
in how far our tools can go to gather bits
to blow up with AI assistant importance, gage,
the twisted spot a galaxy, by god, there are billions
of
billions of things, and I have but one breath.
What am I to be,
wait and see, I think I am the string, soaked in hummingbird
juice from the feeder, from when the oriole tipped the balance,
and soaked me,
the string,
thinking this is as absurd as being a bug, and I have been led
to imagine being tried, while being a bug,
and some time,
after all
that
I thought I ought to imagine Sisyphus happy, due to not knowing
the whole truth of any given circumstance,
here I and it is me and thee, the ready written
and the reader wrote. I am with you always, even, smooth, no
ripple, even to the final valley filling with peace
I made with friends since who knows when,
this is the time, we gather to measure
worth of knowing who has lied,
to whom, today, all things being open, to the art intuitive, thou
seest all things, each thing
accounted for in the grand motion going
on, make it better,
AM BIG I dare you, live on and learn off chance bets
cheat the stats, if you knew what I know
then, when it counts.
You be the judge. What good can contain the likes of us?
Oct 19, 2021
Oct 19, 2021 at 6:19 PM UTC
It grips me everytime
Everytime I see them play
22 of them, on the field
Running, tripping, sweating
They move, they pass, they jump
They fall, they stand, they hook
And suddenly it's clear to me
Its not just bout scores and stats and stuff
Its about a flawless play
Its not a matter of two opponents
Its played by several thousands
Laughing, cheering, grieving, praying
You won't see anywhere else
Love so pure, colours so bright
Its grips my everything
Everytime I see them play
My beautiful game
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
Ten fingers
went to tend her
garden of buttons:
The right hand kisses cheeks
with Mr. **** and then greets
The Twins with a tender twist,
as the **** on the door when
He comes,
and we lay atop each
other to be a team—of beams
of light strobing across some sheets
of ice, maybe—with steadily raised stats
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 10:12 AM UTC
I know everything about
tobacco.
Cancer stats,
asthma stats,
usage rates among teens
tweens
and young adults.
Give me five minutes
and you can have a list of the taxes on tobacco
arranged by state
(alphabetical or by rank?)
and a dozen studies that all say
"smoke up, Johnny, it's good for you!"
Data is my nicotine and I am hooked.
We're surrounded by
Smoke, Lies, and the Nanny State
and no one gives a ****
Follow the rules
and hide your smoke,
your *****
and keep away
from the kids.
Carcinogens in hot dogs
are all well and good
because there's
"nutritional value"
but you can't eat a cigarette.
Eat your lies and **** your e-cigarette like a lollipop because that's the cool thing these days.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
The scariest thing
is not being able to trust your own mind.
It is my woeful enemy
shooting me from behind.
Filled with nerves and harsh thoughts
i battle salty streaks and stomach knots.
I have no appetite and get no sleep
maybe its why i seem and feel so weak.
And while i try to understand this corruption
the anxiety and depression continue their introductions.
So theres a reason my mind and heart weep
over my broken thoughts that run so deep.
My doctor tells me this is "common"
that "others have it and are doing awesome".
But even though i know the stats
it doesn't make me feel any less like shattered glass.
And at the end this monster will take over
its slowly growing and getting closer and closer.
So dear friend, watch out for your mind
or you'll end up with a monster who is incredibly unkind.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC