"steele" poems
"i'm watching you, stupid ***** Madison pointed at pyper as the girls made there way out of the dining room. "thats enough madison." Cordelia scolded. Nan followed pyper up the stairs into her bedroom. "why are you following me?" pyper asked, looking at nan in disgust. rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "you have madisons money." nan crossed her arms and smiled. "excuse me??" pyper replied as if she were offended by Nans accusation. "mhm, and you have zoeys sunglasses.., cassies ipod, and 25 dollars you stole from emilys purse. along with her art pencils." nan replied. "wow, you're A cleptomaniac." Nan laughed. "okay, how do you know all of this???" Pyper asked, her cheeks red from embarissment, and her head lowered in shame. "i'm psychic. i can read minds." nan explained. suddenly cassie walked past pypers room in search of her stolen ipod. "has anyone seen my pink ipod???" Cassie questioned, it was sitting on my bed, and now i can't find it anywhere. " she looked around hopelessly. "well then look in your room cassie. give me 5 minutes and i'll help you look." pyper shouted. "wow, you're a real piece of work arent you?" nan rolled her eyes and chuckled. "what is your angle, nan?" Pyper questioned, rolling her eyes aswell. saying names name as if she were mocking the whole idea of her. "my angle, PYPER. is this, you give everyone there **** back or i'm telling cordelia and you're out of here." Nan smerked. "you're not going to tell on me anyway?" pyper asked sadly. "no, not onless you do it again." nan sighed, "we stick together here, we're a family, we don't steele eachother down thats not what we're about." nan explained sympatheticly. "wow, thats funny because that's all my real family ever did." pyper replied with big sad puppy dog eyes. nan nodded, "i'm not here to listen to your ******** excuses or your sob stories. if saying that you've had a hard life, and never had anything given to you. and the world owes you. helps you get to sleep at night then fine, cool beans. but i'm not buying that shit. and these girls don't owe you anything. now, i expect everyone to have there **** back by the morning, or i will tell cordelia." nan sighed and rolled her eyes. "okay." pyper nodded with a wounded look upon her face. Cassie stood outside of the door, still listening. her eyebrows raised in anger. and then made her way up the stairs and into madisons room. "what are you doing here pipsquick. im NOT in the mood." Madison sobbed. "oh i think you're in the mood for this, i know who took your money." Cassie smiled.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
The smile of iceboxes annihilates me.
Such blue currents in the veins of my loved one!
I hear her great heart purr.
From her lips ampersands and percent signs
Exit like kisses.
It is Monday in her mind: morals
Launder and present themselves.
What am I to make of these contradictions?
I wear white cuffs, I bow.
Is this love then, this red material
Issuing from the steele needle that flies so blindingly?
It will make little dresses and coats,
It will cover a dynasty.
How her body opens and shuts --
A Swiss watch, jeweled in the hinges!
O heart, such disorganization!
The stars are flashing like terrible numerals.
ABC, her eyelids say.
11k
Hurry now, it’s leaving soon
Car door slams, gravel underfoot
And from the boot
Grandmas lil helper is lifted
Oh! Where did it go?
Wind twists scarf to snake
Released from frames captivity
I stoop and tug
Under your foot, Gran
She shuffles,
Ties it firmly around tiny shoulders
Bright colour against delicate skin
Paper thin, both,
One for beauty, one to hold the blood in
And may it hold the blood in,
Just a little longer...
The train awaits,
Monstrous,
Steele stark against surrounding bush.
Matt has a sausage,
Mum bothers about tickets,
Both fuss and fizzle,
I press lips firmly together
Deciding then and there
Never to let entertainment turn to stress;
It’s more than it’s worth.
We’re to be in the engine room,
The rest will be left behind -
As something faulty.
Matt lifts Gran up;
She’s tiny,
She’s flying,
She’s in.
And then we’re all in.
Crammed.
We stare longingly through grimy glass
At empty carriages
Can’t we be in there? It’s all a bit stuffy.
There’s a fire along the track
But we don’t go any further.
The smoke streams out over forest.
And jerking and bumping,
Dipping along,
We reverse back to whence we started.
Petrol fumes and smoke fill our tiny cocoon
Here, let me help you
Passenger to passenger,
Fellow human,
Compassionate eyes.
Gran has a seat;
She sways while we lurch.
Deep within
Railroad country
I make believe
I know something
Of the girl
Of the Plannies;
That sacred connection
To land and sky,
To Native country,
To Golden Macrocarpa
I stare over hills of tree ferns,
Kawakawa, Wheki, Punga
And, knowing no other,
I feel this land
Majestically
My own.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
I write words with passion, I write words learned from wisdom
I study the works from the greatest; I even study the stars in the sky
Look to the North West on a dark Southern Autumn‘s night
Hanging side by side with the king of the jungle and holding a *** of honey
A relative to the one in the deserts with stinger in its tail you will see
A Giant that walks on ocean floors with meat that is ever so sweet
Constellations that fill the sky all been given a specific name at an earlier time
Many a being read the wise man tales in the daily papers
They live there day to look to see if there predictions come true
Your visions can only come true if you search without looking
My journey today took me to the second floor I’m in a ward
Doors open exposing many smiles and many, many frowns
Team Poppy’s Ride for one dollar I bought into yes I did
Relay for life fight the silent killer and have fun doing it as well it says
A dozen silk roses pull me near to the table to touch them
Fur lined slippers; ports open on his body, one in his neck
Another in his arm with plunger attached I can see
Flush him clean and pure I pray aloud rid him of his pain
Give it to me I cry as I looked into his eye
Tapping red heels with anxiety she’s called in next
Chairs with wheels fill the room to capacity
All with hoses and green cylinders attached given a fresh breath of life to inhale
Delicatessen of food on a low cart is now delivered from the one with child in the womb
Smile she puts on my face for there’s another life to keep the circle of life going
Journeys not over for they have just begun
Stacks of Danielle Steele books are scattered all about
Comforting the mind, comforting the soul they do
Precious words are better than man’s medicine I believe
Come to me, my written words are stronger then the script you’re looking for
No ringing of the bells here to mark the toll
To the left I see a three leaf clover hanging in the window
On the Next there’s a hanging cross
Waiting is the master, to do your part
He welcomes you and your soul.
CELEBRATE, REMEMBER, AND FIGHT BACK! (CARSr. 5-21-12)
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC
I want to be friends with Glenn Danzig.
We can conjure up some evil.
No lesser imps
or minor demons though.
Only a meeting with
the capital “D” Devil
because Glenn and I would command such an audience.
I want to be friends with Glenn Danzig.
We can giggle like schoolgirls
when Chuck Biscuits sits on that whoopie cushion we left out for him or
finds a fake, plastic eyeball floating in his coffee mug.
I want to be friends with Glenn Danzig.
We can go on the “Punch America’s Face Again” tour.
We wouldn't be singing in our slimy baritones on this road trip.
Just passing out black eyes
like Halloween candy.
Leaving a trail of busted noses and
broken hearts
in our wake.
There would be sleepovers.
Glenn and me
with Iggy Pop, Johnny Rotten and
the ghost of Peter Steele in attendance.
Ouija Boards and light-as-a-feather.
Peter Steele would always win.
He is a ******* ghost after all.
We could give each other nicknames:
Goodboy Glenn and The Big Dill.
maybe a secret handshake…
Nothing too elaborate.
Just cool, y’know?
We would text one another
after the season finale of The Walking Dead:
Darryl needs to die he’s not even in the comic but it’ll probably be Michonne there’s no justice on T.V. for cool black girls this show has just been a study in emotionally manipulating its audience since the beginning anyway why are we the only ones who see that
Why are we the only ones who see that?
Are you listening Glenn?
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 9:10 PM UTC
She loved
the city
the night stars
the snow
She loved Love
especially
falling
in
Love
but now
feels
Nothing
not even the blizzard’s icey teeth
sinking its fangs into her skin.
To her right is the road
that She followed
to break free
of the quiet, safe life
worth anything
and everything now.
Then She looks to
the deceiving mirage
of a new start,
a bright
happy
future
filled with big beautiful towers
glowing their fake lights like amber constellations.
her fault :
believing She was strong
practically invincible
safe
and nobody could
take that away
but in one moment
all that
fragile strength
was lost.
She never asked for
the nightmares
the fear of Him
or for the responsibility of
two heart beats
but He didn’t listen,
said nobody will ever believe her
and once She found out about It
She lost
her
mind
completely.
looking down to the
rage of rapids
She places her hands on her
sick stomach
listens to the ZOOM of the
carefree cars
their sounds verifying that She is
finally
entirely
invisible.
nobody notices
her hair restless in the wind
the hem of her dress
gently kissing the steele beam
that freezes her bare purple feet.
nobody notices
when She finally escapes
when She sets herself free
and falls into
rectifying
darkness.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 8:24 PM UTC
i can't.
i want to say that i won't
but it wouldn't be true.
if i, instead, say i can't,
i can easily conjure up a choir of whys.
can't pull at you.
can't bust things up.
can't promise greener grass.
can't promise to stay or
that you won't regret
decisions made.
i want to.
so badly.
but i know with you
i am wont to want
so, i'll stay with can't.
i'll turn cold,
i'll steele, and i'll
remember the multitude of whys.
hurry home sad blue eyes;
before a storm brought on by
why not
whips you free and throws us
both
into unpredictable winds.
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 4:28 PM UTC
He woke well before dawn
Pulling his husky body from the warm comforts of his bed
Today is the day, hard decisions need to be made
He settles in, whisky on the rocks, and his trusted amigo, Henry the Hummingbird
The list is long, so he checks it twice
There was Jinxxed for Life, Mina Steele and Richard Barnes.
Lexi Smith and can't forget Wolfspirit with his beautiful lyric
S Creeker and the enchanted soul of Ember Eravescent
News blaring from the radio temporarily distracting him from the task at hand
Just Melz and Wordvango
Whatever happened to the Samantha's, Joseph's and the Vicki's.
Blue eyes dancing reflecting "R" crinkling at the humour of Hank Helman
They've all been naughty for sure
Nice, that would be such a bore
Cheers to the world of poetry and all its glory
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
cinderella looked out of a tiny window covered with steele bars. the sun brightly shining through, the sky a beautiful pinkish purple. she wondered if she would ever feel the warmth of the sunlight again as she touched the window. she looked down at what used to be a gorgeous blue gown, now tattered and toarn. she touched the fabric softly remembering how her eyes shined when she first saw it. & the struggle that ruined it. her eyes began to swell up with tears. ¨i cant take this much more¨ she thought. ¨i wont...¨ she decided, her sad eyes and broken heart now filled with rage and hostility. her shaking hands now clinched in fists. ¨i will be just as mad, limitless, and unhumane as he is. i will be decieving, cold and cruel. and i won't feel anything about it. ill treat him like a doormat instead of a person just like he treated me. the only difference will be that i will not allow him to live.¨
¨we will see who is dim witted.¨
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
crackheads crackheads
gonna rob your house,
gonna sneak into your bedroom
as quiet as a mouse,
gonna steele all your jewlery,
your dog and your blouse
crackheads crackheads
twerkin in a thong
u should have locked your door u *****
now your computers gone
wide eyed and skinny
high without a penny
run for the hills..
hide all your dollar bills and your
perscription pills
cause theyre out to steele
they've started to get the chills
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
.
"I pull him
deeper in my
mouth so I can
feel him at the
back of my thro
at and then to
the front again.
My tongue swi
rls around the
end. He's my
very own Chris
tian Grey- flav
ored popsicle.
I **** harder
and harder . . .
. . . Hmmm . . .
my inner god
dess is doing
the merengue with some salsa
moves. " " You'r e so deliciously wet
god I want you I ' m going to **** you
now Ms. Steele hard . . . come
for me Ana."
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
I looked at the beggarman
Wrapped in a bundle
Of cardboard, rags and dirt,
With a royal smirk on his face
As his eyes pierced mine
For the second or less
It took to wander by
His space of rest,
His makeshift nest
Of cardboard, rags and dirt...
Today he laid
On his side,
Knees slightly bent,
A blue Bic gripped loosely
In his right fist,
Notepad white
In his right...
What does a beggarman write
From his sanctuary
Of cardboard, rags and dirt,
I wondered?
Could it be a sign,
A plea for a penny
Or a piece of bread?
Or was the beggarman
A thespian well-read
With a tale or two
Trapped in his troubled head....
As he was,
In his bastille
Of cardboard, rags and dirt...
A Danielle Steele
Undiscovered....
An Amiri Baraka
Reborn...
A literary genius trapped
In a bundle
Of cardboard, rags and dirt
With a royal smirk on his face.
~ P
(#TheBeggarman)
2/28/2014
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
I think were a lot like
Anastasia and Christian
You are dark, and mysterious on one side
And sweet and innocent on the other
It reminds me of Christian Grey
I'm confused and afraid of love
and waiting to be loved and cared for
It reminds me of Anastasia Steele
Together, we go together as the two lovers above
Were not meant for each other, But we cant keep away
We always get hurt, but come back for each other
Because we both know the other side of each other
The side we want them to be
The side they want to be
But we cant.
What a perfect world it would be if you loved me
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC
Life was hard in those early days
in Swindons rail work shops.
Where conditions were basic and harsh
working long hours in the heat and noise.
Furnaces blazed to create the power
forging the steel needed to mold.
Magmificent living steam engines
made with passion and skill its told.
Workers couldn't watch the clock
wages were only counted in shillings.
The Great Western railway the employer.
new Swindon was born out of the works.
Stone iron and steele covered the land
at the bottom of Kingshill.
Industrial progress increased sharply
where the land once laid still.
Rows of houses were built for the toilers
and a hospital soon rose from the ground.
The church of St Marks so they could pray
a park to unwind in their limited leisure.
In a community of people helping each other
located by the main London to Bristol line.
Enjoying their annual holidays together
when the steam works looked fine.
Nineteen eighty five the gate shut for good
a retail outlet now where the works stood.
The Foureyed Poet.
Mar 1, 2011
Mar 1, 2011 at 4:10 PM UTC
* : Janet E Steele*
And what is the body? And what is a house?
The body is home to pain,
there was a mouth that held back a scream
there are wounds that show the face of blood
The body is home to the spirit of layover,
and there he felt at home, listening to the song
time, clock & heart rippled
And what is a house? And what is the body?
The house is an area where there is none
the shadow of the body, in a corner
gramophone placed & prayer sent to far.
Home is where you come back
from a small meeting, and there you are
happy, because you have time to say love.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 9:45 AM UTC
Would life to some be for others deceased
The greed of man is the Devil in awe
Open and eager to satiate the beast
Allied; redundant rebels fast become feast
A thriving surmise from a snarling abhor
Would life to some be for others deceased
Stiff media outlets quietly policed
Less of a ***** more of a *****
Open and eager to satiate the beast
Dynamic complex entity, undefined common thread in the East
Internal displacement clashes with border decor
Would life to some be for others deceased
Bray Lampwick; Bray! Add volume to the doom release
Crooked anticipation of the determinate straw
Open and eager to satiate the beast
If the potent and equipped old grip is continually greased
Our trades will deduce the national core
Would life to some be for others deceased
Open and eager to satiate the beast
Craig Steele
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 6:53 AM UTC
Hey Jessy
You and Honey were always besties
The way you played around
Jumped and bounced on the ground
Always looked so young
That same puppy that we once brought home
I remember that day very clear
It feels oh so near
The first thing you did was hide from us
Until I went and made a fuss
You sat under that tree for hours on end
I remember sitting there making you happy
And all you did was be snappy
Our friendship grew from that moment
You never understood how much it meant to me
The little piece of my heart you stole
You will stay with me for ever
Me and you we went through everything together
If feels so strange to say that you have left us now
How can that be; you were always so strong
Why can't your life still be here and long
You were always so timid to new people
But once you got to know them they were like treacle
I remember the day you first attacked the letters
You were so funny but so naughty
I remember the day that Tilly past away
You stayed so strong but showed your heart
Just like the way you loved Honey from the start
Jess you character oh so different
But that's what made you who you were
To be special to me takes real might
I will always remember you as being the one that went down with a fight
I have put you into writing so that you will never be forgot
Faces of new and faces of old will always remember you as Jessy Kilsby-Steele
Jessy I will always love and remember you and your beauty
~AlphaX
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
In the morning he feels the weight,
The pounding rhythm of the hour,
Where he starts his day
Having to bear the effects of getting such jumbled thoughts
And mixed vain feelings
Where are the answers to the questions that do not wish to have answers?
Inside the scriptures of mind
No thought is second guessed
The reasons of the rhythm stand true
There is something inside of him that moves
** ~A heart he claims to not have **
The one that lingers and vibrates
At the bottom of the sea
Aligning with the coral shelves
Worrying about whom he's yet to meet
Whom will figure out
That in his heat lies a soul
In his hell lies a prophet
yet to reach potential
Having to
Push his door open
And burn the envelop that cages him
But he fears
Letting go of this hatred
Would waken the realization
Of how alone he really is
For that hatred
Is what keeps him from cracking
Is what helps him maintain
His make belief life of dark love
But in actuality
It's just clothing on the lonesome truth
Of his scarred
Made of Steele
Lonely Lion Heart
-fir.m
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
I guess the image I had was corrupted I never mentioned filibusted. A seething whit I couldn't match from a advisory who met her match. The prose the verse it all unspun to show what really was undone. So ****** off the parson said and go home to your Steele bed or find a den that warms you more and forget the pain that came before.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 4:13 PM UTC
Fire in her viens
Longing in mine
Eyes of pale topaz
Steele emerald in mine
Ignite my soft soul
Burn away the
Emptiness
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 11:35 PM UTC
The calm before Yolanda
I Whisper prayers in preparation
Thoughts of the harm before it’s caused
Homes wrecked and Separation
The effects of a storm
Death, hurt and the suffering of a nation
These things keep me up
Seated.
Rocking .
Wrapped in my countries flag, the only thing that can keep me warm
Evacuated Far from harm but I die when calls to my parents are not received
I wait and listen.
Here the breeze blows a gentle beast
There the gusts roar as nature is unleashed
Miles away but my blood runs silent
I fear for the family I left
Is it right that you are out of my reach?
You stay in touch with my emotions
They run for you
Tears flow free as I receive news
An estimated 1000 lives taken
Devastation in village’s, towns and my city
Making Global news
I remain frozen as calls still don’t get through
But media continues to come
Up rooted trees, fathers without sons,
Houses taken in the wind
Ruins left by the floods
I choke on every breath
As I see faces of motionless mothers down in mud
My eyes close powerless
Still no news from my loved ones
Tell me where my home is now
Tell me where I go
Tell me how to be more than a frightened girl aged fourteen
Who fears to sleep alone and dream to wake to a nightmare:
The passing of Yolanda in the Philippians.
Days go by like years
And a gentle breeze blows through the aftermath
Our flag still stands we still have land
A base to build our hope from
Now life has a new meaning
Move forward as one
Salvage- What is lost, is never forgotten
Aid - What was destroyed, will be rebuilt together
Relief- News of rescues emerge
A wreck overturned
I have faith my family survived in God’s hands
~ Steele Daniel
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 5:18 AM UTC
Into the woods,
On foot,
I came across so many obstacles,
But with that one friend,
I feel so blessed.
Talking about marriage and romance,
Danielle Steele and Judith Mcnaught,
Make the conversation all the more strong.
The runny sand and our ***** pants,
They seem to have no weight,
Monkeys on barks,
Elephants parading towards the lake,
It all seems so natural,
The sound of the river and my yummy waffle.
My trip to the wilderness was as crazy as this poem seems,
No idea, no plot,
I know its a flop !
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
Mr. Steele bit my hand, but Mr. Steele knows
Where the poison lies (inside), though it never shows
Mr. Steele showed the way, to cope with things unfair
From anything to everything, like hate, hurt, or despair
Mr. Steele is my friend, he's wicked and he's cruel
Can't he be? Or mustn't he? Is that not the rule?
Mr. Steele makes me be, a smiling, caring soul
Regardless of my mental state, regardless of the toll
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 1:05 AM UTC
Devoniare was his name
He surely talked a fair game
Full of sweetness
Raging lust
For all to see
He spoke so eloquently
The ladies did swoon
As His voice crooned
He was a man you see
Just like the rest they say
But not to me
I was mesmerized
Caught in His spell
His darkness was intoxicating
His light blinding
He was both you see
At least to me
He came for me that night
Everyone wanted me to ignore his call
The evil inside him oozed
Like putrid pus from a wound
I could not see it though
Looked like an angel in the snow
He came for me when I did not answer
Needed my soul to feed his lust
As His voice crooned
His touch ignited
I saw a glimpse of the maggots
Pulling a knife
I prayed he would not see
As I pretended to still be in his spell
Flash of steele
Shriek of pain
Gurgling like a stream
A few gasps inbetween
His lungs filled with blood
As my hand held the knife
I gutted him you see
As he tried to kiss me
Shuddering as I dropped the knife
Coated in his wicked blood
Waking up screaming
"Oh thank you it was just a dream"
Looking down I see
My gown coated in red
Hands trembled
As eyes landed upon
That knife laying on the bed
On it's point was a bleeding heart
I screamed again and again
As I realized
It truly was the fight of my life
Won by me at a cost though
The cost for my soul was my innocence
Wonder if it was worth the price
Future will tell
One thing I won't forget
Is that putrid smell
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 1:07 AM UTC
dear cerrupted angel, you've been through far too much,
i see the barbed wire your tangled and mangled, in. you're so lost and out
of touch. you awkwardly stand with sad blue eyes and shaking hands, and no one understands how you feel, your so striken with fear, that parts of you dissapear, underneath your shield made of steele .
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC