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"stepper" poems
this is not a ten stepper essay.  You are, and you admit it, full stop. Addicted to HP.  No help here. but to answer the question... the writing of a poem, no matter what your style, eye dropper word selection, slow methodical, or furious expelling, frying oil until crescendo is achieved is clearly a fulfillment of a ****** type of need. Afterwards, after words, when you repeatedly check the number of likes, it is just you asking me was it as good for you as it was for me? Usually, eventually, the answer is a quiet, soft spoken, very few reads version of: "Uh, just let me sleep" which means you will try again in the the morning suncomeforth.
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Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 4:59 AM UTC
Why you are addicted to HP
The adolescent Currawong not exactly stumbling or tripping is parrot-like as a junior, a hopper and stepper in the art of stalking and hunting In a series of quick-steps and bounces she moves sideways, most emphatic as a survival enthusiast She gazes, investigates and gathers the curios, insects, rich dark worms one gesture at a time She is vigilant and persistent through the dust the soil, the grass with instinct and practise through her teachers she thrives MChallis © 2015
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Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 8:47 PM UTC
Adolescent Currawong
I'm not trying to be A shit-talker Or shit-starter But I'm also not A side-stepper And what what I really want to know is Why there are so many god-awful poets on this site? Who gave you the right? What idiot told you that you could write?
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Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 3:20 PM UTC
Shit-Talker
Driving down the main this eveningI heard happy music playiing but radio had the news. It was the girl going south with a cell phone to her mouth. Samba, merengue.played loudly . No one was singing.I swear.flowery,earthy beat to pat my feet. From where ? Just out of thin air.. no im pleased to report the girl going south had a roll and sway in the way she walked, I swear I heard music as she walked I swear I heard a samba mambo.how beautifull.and sweet. The hot stepper took the music with her but my day was complete.
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Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
samba
Tap dance on girders, Ben Franklin Bridge Jubilant prepubescent boy making mockery Alpha doggie dodging any common sense Step ball change and windmills free range Little show off teetering on brink of disaster And a dare of unabashed audacity Stare, stare, and stare down his prey Tap a whack tap, double time flick flack Intensity that cannot possibly go away Dared youth’s eyes give all hints to fear Though no tear will come to his pride Other boy steps and glides Reach comes forward, disaster tap mongrel Puppy stepper’s got to be a go-getter Holds his hand out and comes quick the grab Trembles a fright, Speedline in sight This rail from Jersey to Pennsy might bite Shaking and tapping, absurdum jacking The slip; it’s over as you knew it would be Alpha Dog sniffs that bridge to this day Searching permissiveness, lost in foray But if he hears one tap or a click or a clank Jittery twitchiness, on that you can bank
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May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
A Dare Of Absurdity
Me- “D” UP! “D” UP! put them hands up, hands up. And I’m robbing folks on the pass if they slip up. Don’t allow nobody to pass by you, move your feet. Don’t go for every reach, just keep them in front of you my G. They dealing with a team full of experts. Juice & I will double-team, so squad be on high alert. Make them work, cut off those passing lanes and once they turn the ball over, we’ll be gone in an instant. Juice- Aye, look at these wanna be play makers. Zay steal that, now pass that. Cause I’m about to lob that to my boy Doug. BOOM!!! I see you Doug with the 360 alley-oop dunk! YOOO! Ball is thrown in, watch for the pass and skip! Me- No worries I got the ball my guy, don’t trip. Here Juice! Run 54-hip. Juice- Aww snap! Time to **** I’m about to put the boys in their feels! Cross-over stepper, step-back decker. I’m a G.O.A.T. getter, nobody does it better. Weak mismatches and easy pass dishes. Pick & role to the pocket, they can’t stop this. Zay- Man, we about to hurt these fools on the other end too. About to get tortured as we break their hearts in shambles. And when we rock them and stop them at the rim, it’s straight blocking. Even if they try to shoot, BLOCKA, BLOCKA, BLOCKA! Juice- It is what it is fam, to bad they about to lose. Zay- At the end of the day, what the hell they gonna do? Juice- Now this is epic. We got them looking pathetic. I said what I said, ain’t no room to be apologetic.
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Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 2:58 AM UTC
Let me shoot 🏀 pt. 2
I can see the pain you try and keep within your teeth.. It’s falling out your eyes, Trailing lines atop the streets. Why don’t you sit and talk with me, My honest ears, just let it out. I’ll keep it to myself, Your achey words will never touch my mouth. You see it as a million mountains that you have to climb, I try to show you there’s a simple path, Just one you have to find. The dam built in your eyes Is spilling Same goes for the one built in your mind. I want to tear it down, See you free, See you running wild. Imagining, I see your teeth are nothing but a cage For your tongue, Imagine all these words just rolling off ablaze. Oh it would be amazing, Tasting flare from all your fallout. The plants retract their claims of faith, The sun, it seems so dull now. With you around, Disaster’s but a shrug & we stay northbound. Mushroom cloud stepper, Red pepper, here I call out: “I could always see your wings, Since we sat, swaying on the swings. A presence never made me melt the same, I doubt one ever will again." Every time I left the grounds I kept you somewhere in my mind Yet every time you wound up close to me I’d hide behind my eyes. You hadn’t left my mind but my reality Had changed a lot A bit of strength had shifted to my shape & we could finally talk Time had come to pass I’m older, bolder, somewhat of an *** I play guitar throughout the classes Ashy from the mornings hash. You asked me “Could I sing along?” Or maybe I asked you, Learned that I could Use Somebody, hopes of getting close with you. Our voices filling up the room Fluorescent flowers start to bloom. I see a supernova, Open up my eyes, all I see is you I’m flashing back to heart attacks When first graced by your presence Now I’m living here in song With you, I fight to keep my breath in. Just so I can let it go, With time and tone, to flow & meet with yours And form those meteors Of heart and soul We rode with no remorse. Oh maybe I’m infatuated, Maybe it’s all lust. Maybe we are meant to be But just haven’t fallen up yet, I await your wings, To show you things, To grow and know you well. You may just wait the same as me, Only time will tell.
0
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
We Sat, Swaying on the Swings
I can see the pain you try and keep within your teeth.. It’s falling out your eyes, Trailing lines atop the streets. Why don’t you sit and talk with me, My honest ears, just let it out. I’ll keep it to myself, Your achey words will never touch my mouth. You see it as a million mountains that you have to climb, I try to show you there’s a simple path, Just one you have to find. The dam built in your eyes Is spilling Same goes for the one built in your mind. I want to tear it down, See you free, See you running wild. Imagining, I see your teeth are nothing but a cage For your tongue, Imagine all these words just rolling off ablaze. Oh it would be amazing, Tasting flare from all your fallout. The plants retract their claims of faith, The sun, it seems so dull now. With you around, Disaster’s but a shrug & we stay northbound. Mushroom cloud stepper, Red pepper, here I call out: “I could always see your wings, Since we sat, swaying on the swings. A presence never made me melt the same, I doubt one ever will again." Every time I left the grounds I kept you somewhere in my mind Yet every time you wound up close to me I’d hide behind my eyes. You hadn’t left my mind but my reality Had changed a lot A bit of strength had shifted to my shape & we could finally talk Time had come to pass I’m older, bolder, somewhat of an *** I play guitar throughout the classes Ashy from the mornings hash. You asked me “Could I sing along?” Or maybe I asked you, Learned that I could Use Somebody, hopes of getting close with you. Our voices filling up the room Fluorescent flowers start to bloom. I see a supernova, Open up my eyes, all I see is you I’m flashing back to heart attacks When first graced by your presence Now I’m living here in song With you, I fight to keep my breath in. Just so I can let it go, With time and tone, to flow & meet with yours And form those meteors Of heart and soul We rode with no remorse. Oh maybe I’m infatuated, Maybe it’s all lust. Maybe we are meant to be But just haven’t fallen up yet, I await your wings, To show you things, To grow and know you well. You may just wait the same as me, Only time will tell.
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72
Dying petals adorn the sidewalk They're varying pigments document life's varying stages of leaving, Thwarts drafts of wind, their nature to revel in my gaze Not in act of personification, They are not the object of attraction No, But a messenger to the careful stepper, “Look up.”
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Sep 18, 2024
Sep 18, 2024 at 4:43 PM UTC
The Need to Leave
What professions could you aspire, with your sky-wide hands—a mountain for hire? A stepper, a stomper, a mammoth barbarian? Surely there’s something—must you be a librarian? Look at your size! It doesn’t make sense! You sat just now on the library fence! The ‘brary doors open ‘low even your knees The shelves at your toes! The people like fleas! You could never succeed as a little librarian. No less than a lion could eat vegetarian! I told him all that. Fact, I told him twice! But a dream is no more a gift than a vice. For my giant had dreamt of a future so long filled with books-upon-books, snug where they belong. He’s clung too far n’ too fast to simply comprise, ‘for he’ll give up his dream, he’ll alter his size! Thus he searches the land for the littlest books, hoping each tiny page will change how he looks One day, he imagines, he’ll fit through those doors. He’ll walk through the stacks—how a dream can endure! With thousands of little books scooped up in his arms, the giant starts reading ‘til he’s learned every word. But a thousand, a million, no number of verses could shrink down that giant to the size of a person. Closing the cover, his dreams ‘gan to fade the shelves and the stacks—the future he’d made. ‘til a comforting voice squeaked all of a sudden What a wonderful book! Could I check out this one? The giant looked downward, right under his nose at a thousand odd books shelved right in his toes I warned and I cautioned, now I must carry-in, no ‘brary keeps books like the giant librarian!
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Dec 27, 2019
Dec 27, 2019 at 2:46 PM UTC
The Giant Librarian
What professions could you aspire, with your sky-wide hands—a mountain for hire? A stepper, a stomper, a mammoth barbarian? Surely there’s something—must you be a librarian? Look at your size! It doesn’t make sense! You sat just now on the library fence! The ‘brary doors open ‘low even your knees The shelves at your toes! The people like fleas! You could never succeed as a little librarian. No less than a lion could eat vegetarian! I told him all that. Fact, I told him twice! But a dream is no more a gift than a vice. For my giant had dreamt of a future so long filled with books-upon-books, snug where they belong. He’s clung too far n’ too fast to simply comprise, ‘for he’ll give up his dream, he’ll alter his size! Thus he searches the land for the littlest books, hoping each tiny page will change how he looks One day, he imagines, he’ll fit through those doors. He’ll walk through the stacks—how a dream can endure! With thousands of little books scooped up in his arms, the giant starts reading ‘til he’s learned every word. But a thousand, a million, no number of verses could shrink down that giant to the size of a person. Closing the cover, his dreams ‘gan to fade the shelves and the stacks—the future he’d made. ‘til a comforting voice squeaked all of a sudden What a wonderful book! Could I check out this one? The giant looked downward, right under his nose at a thousand odd books shelved right in his toes I warned and I cautioned, now I must carry-in, no ‘brary keeps books like the giant librarian!
Continue reading...
32
a bell is really blue as pug desire her stepper to classify cardio that variably arms her visit with a spall of society where doves fasten their seatbelt but mark this lore of strumpet
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Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 10:43 AM UTC
a proselyte
I’m stuck in this maze, that has no end. I run and I run yet no one has help to lend. I feel the world tugging, me down a bit, telling me I’m worthless and that its time to quit. There are so many corners, and so many edges, its hard to avoid falling off the countless ledges. Person after person, comes to yell in my ear, “its time to quit running, you have no luck here.” I start to think they are all a little bit right, I’ve tried my best and held on with all my might. The labyrinth is smarter and better too, I’ve tried so hard and still am yet to make it through. Its time to give up I say to myself, as I take once stepper closer to the tallest of shelves. I hang my foot just over the edge, and remember the struggles that pushed me to this ledge. Its over I repeat again and again in my head, I step off the shelf and now I am dead.
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Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC
The Labyrinth
walking ever so slowly down the sloping, lonely ramps like no one's ever stared at you you ignore my signals and signs i'm calling your name quietly tonight lookin' like i got into a fight dancing over too you in the middle of my mind i'm just trying to wind up finding your old signs hanging in the doorway of your head would i be crossing the line if i said "before i saw you, i was the living dead"? it really seems like everything was set up looking up, not giving up thought it was a waste of my time until i got the courage to step over the line swaggering smoothly toward me trying & choosing to smoothly sway me though i've seen your kind i trip into your trap with eyes wide animated lilies spring up around us digital wind moves the grass, and i must say that i think the ground feels familiar beneath my feet, the soil's loose, you're my killer i try to find your gaze, but it's lost in the dirt never believe the words "this won't hurt" that might be the biggest lie i've ever heard
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Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 12:30 AM UTC
line stepper