"sti" poems
do you still love me
do you still love m
do you still love
do you still lov
do you still lo
do you still l
do you still
do you stil
do you sti
do you st
do you s
do you
do yo
do y
do
d
di
did
did y
did yo
did you
did you e
did you ev
did you eve
did you ever
did you ever l
did you ever lo
did you ever lov
did you ever love
did you ever love m
did you ever love me
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 8:36 AM UTC
As I light my last cigarette
I spend my last dollar
Side sweeping but not street cleaning
because theres no parking here
because i never let anyone stay
everyones done by 2
and gone by 3
Yet
some try to stick to
like an ant or flea
but my words are raid
and my actions are someone pushing down the cap
to only spray the bug
watching its passion pass on
dead
but not alive
yet, sti
l
l breathing.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
sdrawkcab lla si ti
semitemos
sgniht ta kool ot yap t’nseod
eb dluohs yeht yaw eht
ytilibats pu evig ot nrael
ytiugibma fo ssenteews eht ecarbme
ekil-gurd si rewop sti
sevird ti sa sessessop ti
shpmuirt taht ssendam a
tniop noitanimluc eht ta
ytivitaerc fo ecand eht
egru na ;regnuh a si ti
tcepser a sdnammoc taht
lausunu eht ,euqinu eht rof
!ylpmoc ohw esoht staiwa dlrow wen elohw a
-em evig
noitanimreted emos noissap emos
!ylf dna sgniw eht hcterts ot ssengnilliw emos
- em ekam
seil dna sevil taht sselraef a
ytirucesni nwo sti yb detrofmoc
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
27.08.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC
Lipstick isn't the only thing that stains anymore.
Stubborn eyeliner has marked last nights man.
Tomorrow brings another day, but the same routine
and a different greedy look as she walks to the corner.
theres not enough water to wash away her diseases, dear.
Just a pest, a rat scattering the streets
with nothing more than a cigarette and greed in her hand.
Stumble, filth. stumble, stumble stumble *****
Shes the highest range of STI distribution.
I say, she deserves a lukewarm meal.
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 8:44 AM UTC
Are you still a friend?
Are you still a friend
Are you still a frien
Are you still a frie
Are you still a fri
Are you still a fr
Are you still a f
Are you still a
Are you still
Are you stil
Are you sti
Are you st
Are you s
Are you.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 12:57 AM UTC
SÅR DER HELER PÅ LÆBEN,
RU HÅNDOVERFLADER
OG BEN DER RYSTENDE FORSØGER AT VALSE MENSTURATIONSSMERTER, ØMME MUSKLER OG GRIMME NEGLEBÅND
*** SPØRGER OM HVAD DER ER GALT
JEG SIGER JEG ER KED AF DET OG GRÆDER
*** SIGER HVORFOR
OG JEG VED DET IKKE
OG HAR PÅ SAMME TID LYST TIL AT SNAKKE
MEN JEG SIGER INGENTING
OG INTET BRÆNDER MERE I HALSEN END USAGTE ORD
MEN DET VED DU VEL IKKE ******* LORTE PSYKOLOG
JEG GÅR PÅ EN STI
DEN ER 11
OG DER ER INGEN MENNESKER
SÅ JEG SÆTTER MIG PÅ EN BÆNK
OG JEG TØRRER IHÆRDIGT TÅRERNE VÆK
IMENS JEG VRÆLER BANDEORD
OG FORSØGER AT HULKE ALLE DÆMONERNE UD
SELVOM INTET GIVER POTE
OG JEG ER FORDÆRVET INDENI
TRÆKKER JEG PÅ SMILEBÅNDET
OG SMILEHULLERNE BEGEJSTRER SIG
MEN ER DET SÅDAN UNGDOM SKAL FØLES?
JEG TAGER UD OM LØRDAGEN
FORDI JEG ARBEJDER HVER FREDAG
SÅ JEG STJÆLER GLÆDE FRA SØNDAG
DEN GLÆDE DER NU FINDES
TUNGE ØJENLÅG
TEQUILA
TILTRÆNGT EFEMERISK LYKKE
OG TAKTISK SELVBEDRAGISK LATTER
TILFREDSHEDEN ER DER NÆPPE
MEN ER JEG GOD NOK NU ELLER HVAD?
JEG TAGER HJEM
MEN JEG VENTER FØRST PÅ NATBUSSEN
ELLER ER DET TOGET
ELLER METROEN
FØRST EN SMØG JEG BRÆNDER MIG PÅ FINGEREN
ALTING ER JO SLØRET
FORHELVEDE DET GØR ONDT.
JEG FRYSER OG MINE TÆNDER KLAPRER
JEG VED IKKE ENGANG HVORDAN JEG FÅR STEGET PÅ
VÅGNER DAGEN EFTER
SORTE RANDER UNDER ØJNENE
OG TØMMERMÆND
ER DET HELE DÉT VÆRD?
MED KRØLLEDE PENGESEDLER,
FINTSKÅRET TOBAK FRA KNÆKKEDE CIGARETTER,
OG ET UBRUGT KONDOM I TASKEN
GÅR JEG UD
MEN LÆGGER FOLK OVERHOVEDET MÆRKE TIL AT JEG GÅR?
LUGTEN AF BODEGA SPREDER SIG PÅ GADEN
NÅR JEG BEVÆGER MIG PÅ FORTOVET
JEG FÅR ET TILTRÆNGENDE KNUS FØR *** LUKKER MIG IND MEN LUKKER JEG OVERHOVEDET HENDE ELLER NOGEN IND?
JEG SIDDER VED RADIATOREN
DEN ER VARM OG SYMPATISK
IKKE SOM DE SKØDELØSE KYS
ELLER DEN ANARKISTISKE IDENTITET
MEN ER JEG IKKE OKAY NU?
JEG KVÆLER DEN KOGENDE KOFFEIN
OG KÆFTEN BRÆNDER
KU DET BLIVE MERE KAOTISK
KU DET?
DEN KRUMMEDE VÅDE MEN LUNE CIGARET HÆNGER I MUNDVIGEN
JEG TAGER DEN IMELLEM PEGEFINGEREN OG FUCKFINGEREN INHALERER OG PUSTER UD
HVAD JEG HÅBER PÅ ER TOMHEDEN INDENI
IMENS TÅRERNE UFRIVILLIGT LØBER NED AF KINDERNE HVORNÅR HOLDER DET OP?
ER DET STRÆKMÆRKERNE,
DET RUNDE ANSIGT,
POLLENALLERGIEN,
MANGEL PÅ SYMPATI OG PENGE
ELLER BARE MIN PERSONLIGHED
DÉT DER GØR AT JEG IKKE ER GOD NOK?
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
Reinventing myself again
Im not meant to be a step dad
Over dating girls who have a child
Cutting ppl out I seen them as awesome
Too bad they **** and sti k on stuff they can't change
Ive begged and pleaded no one listens
Mad at me over some girl who dont want you
Girls who dont take me serious but get mad once im over them
Ive never been one to kiss *** I did what I can to make it right
You cant let go that's on you
I apologized you can't forgive thats on you
By rejecting my apology I took it as go **** yourself
I thought how maybe its my fault but I dont deserve to be treated like ****
Dating ***** getting to know all the wrong ppl
Id rather be alone then stressing over being with someone who dont love themselves
Never emotionally available when I find them attractive
It ***** when I make my way no one care or believes in me
Ive been angry and jealous I go out if my way and nothing
I know ppl who dont try and blessed for days
Im working for mine
Putting in time to better myself
I never think anyone is better than me just different
I can have any girl just have to be confident
Im use to reject the think that mind rapes me is when a person completely changes on you.
Thinking one way but acting another way
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
Ì faccio 'o schiattamuorto 'e prufessione,
modestamente songo conosciuto
pè tutt'e ccase 'e dinto a stu rione,
peccheè quann'io manèo 'nu tavuto,
songo 'nu specialista 'e qualità.
Ì tengo mode, garbo e gentilezza.
'O muorto nmano a me pò stà sicuro,
ca nun ave 'nu sgarbo, 'na schifezza.
Io 'o tratto comme fosse 'nu criaturo
che dice 'o pate, mme voglio jì a cuccà.
E 'o co'cco luongo, stiso 'int"o spurtone,
oure si è viecchio pare n'angiulillo.
'O muorto nun ha età, è 'nu guaglione
ca s'è addurmuto placido e tranquillo
'nu suonno doce pè ll'eternità.
E 'o suonno eterno tene stu vantaggio,
ca si t'adduorme nun te scite maie.
Capisco, pè murì 'nce vò 'o curaggio;
ma quanno chella vene tu che ffaie?
Nn'a manne n'ata vota all'al di là?
Chella nun fa 'o viaggio inutilmente.
Chella nun se ne va maie avvacante.
Sì povero, sì ricco, sì putente,
'nfaccia a sti ccose chella fa a gnurante,
comme a 'nu sbirro che t'adda arrestà.
E si t'arresta nun ce stanno sante,
nun ce stanno raggione 'a fà presente;
te ll'aggio ditto, chella fa 'a gnurante...
'A chesta recchia, dice, io nun ce sento;
e si nun sente, tu ch'allucche a ffà?
'A morta, 'e vvote, 'e comme ll'amnistia
che libbera pè sempe 'a tutt'e guaie
a quaccheduno ca, parola mia,
'ncoppa a sta terra nun ha avuto maie
'nu poco 'e pace... 'na tranquillità.
E quante n'aggio visto 'e cose brutte:
'nu muorto ancora vivo dinto 'o lietto,
'na mugliera ca già teneva 'o llutto
appriparato dinto a nù cassetto,
aspettanno 'o mumento 'e s'o 'ngignà.
C'è quacche ricco ca rimane scritto:
" Io voglio un funerale 'e primma classe! ".
E 'ncapo a isso penza 'e fà 'o deritto:
" Così non mi confondo con la ***** ".
Ma 'o ssape, o no, ca 'e llire 'lasse ccà?!
'A morta è una, 'e mezze songhe tante
ca tene sempe pronta sta signora.
Però, 'a cchiù trista è " la morte ambulante "
che può truvà p'a strada a qualunq'ora
(comme se dice?... ) pè fatalità.
Ormai per me il trapasso è 'na pazziella;
è 'nu passaggio dal sonoro al muto.
E quanno s'è stutata 'a lampella
significa ca ll'opera è fernuta
e 'o primm'attore s'è ghiuto a cuccà.
1.4k
i.
Se agapó
tóra kai gia pánta,
Ioánna,
Tha s 'agapó
xaná kai xaná,
se ílio, í sti vrochí
ii.
Tha s 'agapó
pánta vasílissa;
írthe i óra na xypnísoun
ópou to óneiro tou poiití.
(Greek tongue)
( English tongue)
i.
I love you
Now and forever,
Jane,
I'll love you
Over and over,
In sun, or in rain.
ii.
I'll love you
Forever queen;
It's time to wake
Where poet's dream.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 8:30 PM UTC
Seattle, so full of angry and bitter memories
Failed love affairs, dreams and careers
Seattle the Black Hole! We call it
Stifling people’s hopes
Raining on everyone’s parade
I am happy for those who are happy here
And I feel for those who are not
Miscommunications fill the air
Much like the *** smoke fills the small niches of building entryways
The streets are flooded with STD’s and STI’s
And all around me I see my friends dying
Dying from drug addictions and failed marriages
Dying from being accused by their own judgmental minds
They are all dying; rotting from the inside
Seattle, the most beautiful hypocritical city I know
Aug 22, 2010
Aug 22, 2010 at 9:24 PM UTC
See, everything I see before I open up my eyes
Has made them calloused to the days and passing of the time
I cannot find a way to hold the things I held before
And what I have in place of them won't matter anymore
If this is it, I want to leave, I want to walk I mean
I want to take some solace in my memory's machine
I try to keep a steady pace but tread with heavy feet
The gravity of moving on - the source of my retreat
And yesterday is running now and I cannot keep up
But I will let the blisters form before I drop the cup
The pain is gone, my body's free from every kind of ache
The thought of you has settled in, you weren't a mistake
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
Hunger throughout the world,
Wars at home and abroad,
Political scandals and childish debate,
Global warming, the truth awaits,
STI's, part-going teens, Alcohol and drugs,
police combatting crime committing thugs.
The world is a mess,
and no one seems to care.
I do,
I care about the famine,
earth and wars,
the scandals and debate,
truth,
disease, frivolity and substances,
crime,
all these things I profess to care about.
Do you?
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 1:39 AM UTC
we're diffrent.
you choose one
i choose the other
we don't think alike
but somehow we got along,
you live in the past i live in the present
noitcelfer ym ruoy ekil sti dna and its like your my reflection
so maybe its time that i went left and you stayed right
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 8:21 AM UTC
VC
CV
CCTV
STD
STI
FYI
DTF
EFTS
FTW
***
WHO
WOW
POW
WWI
WWII
WTH
TTPA
HTTP
TOFTB
OTP
SMH
IMHO
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 7:20 AM UTC
*** var som himmelen
Aldrig det samme skær udstrålede ***
Som dagene før
Nogle dage udstrålede *** intet,
Og andre dage, svor jeg, at *** kunne
Være forår for de, som var omkring hende
*** kunne få enhver blomst til, at blomstre,
Og redde dem fra den kolde frostige vinter,
Som *** nogle dage selv blev opslugt af
Mest af alt, var *** mit forår
Og én blomst står stadig i min have,
Den som *** plantede
Selv gennem tiden, de år vi har været
På hver vores sti i livet, som aldrig vil
Krydse hinanden igen - har den stået
Smukt og prægtig i min have,
Aldrig vil den visne, for *** vil
holde den i live, aldrig vil den visne
og jeg håber, at ej heller *** visner,
jeg håber *** finder sit forår
og jeg vil i mit stille sind
sørge over, at jeg ikke kunne
være hendes forår dengang
tilbage i tiden, for der fandtes intet,
jeg hellere ville dengang
eller nu.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC
Nu caro amico dice a n'ato amico:
- Pe mezza toja me songo appiccecato.
Tu vuò sapè cu cchi?
No, nun t' 'o ddico.
Statte tranquillo, l'aggio sistemato.
Afforza 'o vvuò sapè? E mo t' 'o ddico,
ma tu nun 'o cunusce, è n'imbecille.
Na vota s' 'a faceva int' a stu vico,
mo pare ca sta 'e casa a Via dei Mille.
Ch'ha ditto? Niente... L'aggio sistemato.
Mo nun s'azzarda cchiù a fà 'o fetente.
Ha ditto ca tu si nu disgraziato;
ma nun 'o dà importanza, è n'ommo 'e niente.
E ch'ato ha ditto? 'E solde nun se fanno
onestamente senza n'espediente,
si 'a ggente parla, ride, è pecché sanno
comme te l'he accattata 'a milleciento...
Che ssaccio, ca mugliereta ch'ha fatto,
ca tu te stive zitto, ire cuntento,
ca te 'mparaste pure a ffà 'o distratto
e doppo t'accattaste appartamento.
Sentenno sti parole, tu mme saje,
'o sango a parte a capa m'è sagliuto:
Che faccio? Accido a chisto... 'o passo 'o guaio...
Sentenno 'e di ca si pure curnuto,
nun ce aggio visto cchiù: l'aggio 'nchiantato
senza le dà nemmanco 'a bonasera.
Sta lezione se l'ha mmeretata,
'nfaccia a sti ccose io songo assaje severo!
Aprite ll'uocchie si n'amico vuosto
ve vene a raccuntà ca v'ha difeso
'a quacche malalengua: è stu cagliostro
ca isso stesso ve vò fà l'offesa.
E quante nce ne stanno 'e chiste amice
ca songo "cari amici"... e nun è overo.
Guardatele int' 'a ll'uocchie... sò felice
quanno fanno vedè ca sò sincere.
'A nonna mia, vicchiarella e saggia,
diceva sempe: - Nce sta 'o ditto antico:
Chi 'mmasciata te porta, vance adagio,
ca 'ngiuria te vò fà... e nun è amico. -
1k
'A vita è ingiusta pecché è fatta a scale.
Ognuno sta piazzato a nu scalino,
ma sti scalini nun sò tutte eguale:
sò state predisposte da 'o destino
ch'ha regolato chesta umanità.
760
.
Stiff
Stiff Stiff Stiff
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Stiff Stiff Stiff Stiff
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Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 5:29 AM UTC
“These are supposed to be our best years
our most memorable.
Shamefully,
we are a generation of alcohol amnesiacs
we barely remember the names of those who have
filled our beds.
Its all a quest to find the ONE they say.
The weekend warriors battle through
the multitude of diseases,
what troopers.
You really have to ask yourself,
is it all really worth it?
The hangovers,
the blackouts,
the bad dreams and tormenting dizzy memories.
The STI’s,
the fall outs, bust ups, and broken friendships.
All of this from inside a glass.
You pay for it from the cash in your pocket, but your left with shattered lines across your face.
We are marred by our regrets.
So,
is it worth it?
yes?
Then what can I get you?” Asked the bartender.
“These are supposed to be our best years
our most memorable.
Shamefully,
we are a generation of alcohol amnesiacs
we barely remember the names of those who have
filled our beds.
Its all a quest to find the ONE they say.
The weekend warriors battle through
the multitude of diseases,
what troopers.
You really have to ask yourself,
is it all really worth it?
The hangovers,
the blackouts,
the bad dreams and tormenting dizzy memories.
The STI’s,
the fall outs, bust ups, and broken friendships.
All of this from inside a glass.
You pay for it from the cash in your pocket, but your left with shattered lines across your face.
We are marred by our regrets.
So,
is it worth it?
yes?
Then what can I get you?” Asked the bartender.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC
do you remember our little corridor
that blackish floor between two and three
where dreams were made and staged and broken
where we were free and still made eleven
your voice echoes along three black walls
and your laughter, along the green
i still remember what you said about your sister
and how i held you as you cried with me
it's three months over, but i see you still
dancing through a building in the sky
i hope you're smiling, where you are
free from the dark stage you chose to leave behind
it's funny how it all comes back in waves
maybe you miss it too - all the fun
maybe you're up there, smiling down
maybe you're somewhere, saluting the sun
and when my turn comes, i'll look for you
in another space unscathed by time
i'll embrace you tight in a fresnel light
and softly sing you lullabies
but for now,
i'll just keep going on
i'll keep you where time cannot erase you
and where no one can ever hurt or break you:
i'll keep you in our little corridor
the blackish floor between two and three
where dreams were made and staged and broken
where we were free; where we'll always make eleven.
-c.t.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 6:26 AM UTC
State a sentì, ve voglio dì na cosa,
ma nun m'aita chiammà po' scustumato;
chello ca v'aggia dì è na quaccosa
ca i' penso che vvuje ggià nn'ite parlato.
Sta cusarella è ccosa ca sta a cuore
a tuttequante nuje napulitane:
sentennela 'e struppià, ma che dulore,
p'arraggia 'e vvote me magnasse 'e mmane!
Ma nun è proprio chisto l'argomento,
si 'a 'nguaiano o no la povera canzone...
Sanno parlà sultanto 'e tradimento!
'A verità, stu fatto m'indispone.
Na vota se cantava " 'O sole mio ",
"Pusilleco... Surriento... Marechiaro",
" 'O Vommero nce stà na tratturia "...
"A purpe vanno a ppesca cu 'e llampare"...
Chelli parole 'e sti canzone antiche,
mettevano int' 'o core n'allerezza;
chesti pparole 'e mo?... Che ffà... V' 'o ddico?
Nun è pe criticà: sò na schifezza!
"Torna cu mme... nun 'mporta chi t'ha avuta"
" 'O ssaccio ca tu ggià staje 'mbraccio a n'ato"...
"Stongo chiagnenno 'a che te ne si gghiuta"...
"Che pozzo fà s'io songo 'nnammurato"...
Mettimmece na pezza, amici cari,
e nun cantammo cchiù: "Tu m'he traduto".
Sentenno sti ccanzone, a mme me pare,
'e sta' a sentì 'o lamiento d' 'e curnute!
725
you approach me
an indescribable gaze.
your eyes are not on me
they are focused somewhere else.
one of your fists clenched,
the other holds a blade.
you slowly lift the blade
the edge upon your forearm.
you move the blade,
creating a thin line.
the line quickly overflows with blood,
i stare dumbfounded.
why are you doing this?
you're hurting yourself!
you press the blade harder
you cut deeper.
why are you doing this?
there is so much blood
you are sti looking at your arm.
your cut up, bleeding arm.
my anger flares,
my body shakes.
why are you doing this?
"i dont know," i whispered.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
* I am not a poised person
| Nor am I a delight to hear
| But I am a truth warrior
|a knight for deeper meaning
|and a contender for reality
|So I speak my restless mind
|on the matters that matter most
\ and for this I am sutured.
| my mouth sewn shut
| by the red and yellow tape;
|political correctness
/ diminishing the truth
|until nothing is ever said
|And I weep
. Silent tears
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 2:13 PM UTC
Ognuno 'e nuie nasce cu nu destino:
'a malasciorta, 'e 'vvote, va..., pò torna;
chi nasce c'o scartiello arreto 'e rine,
chi nasce c'o destino 'e purtà 'e ccorne.
Io, per esempio, nun mme metto scuorno:
che nce aggio 'a fà si tarde ll'aggio appreso?
Penzavo: sì, aggio avuto quacche cuorno,
ma no a tal punto da sentirme offeso.
E stato aiere 'o juorno, 'a chiromante,
liggénneme cu 'a lente mmiezo 'a mano,
mm'ha ditto: "Siete stato un triste amante,
vedete questa linea comme è strana?
Questa se chiamma 'a linea del cuore,
arriva mmiezo 'o palmo e pò ritorna.
Che v'aggia dì, carissimo signore;
cu chesta linea vuie tenite 'e ccorne.
Guardate st'atu segno fatto a uncino,
stu segno ormai da tutti è risaputo
ca 'o porta mmiezo 'a mano San Martino:
'o Santo prutettore d'e cornute".
Sentenno sti pparole 'int'o cerviello
accuminciaie a ffà mille penziere.
Mo vaco 'a casa e faccio nu maciello,
pe Ddio, aggia fà correre 'e pumpiere.
" Ma no... Chi t'o ffa fà? " (na voce interna
mme suggerette). "Lieve ll'occasione.
'E ccorne ormai songhe na cosa eterna,
nun c'è che ffà, è 'a solita canzone.
'O stesso Adamo steva mparaviso,
eppure donna Eva ll'ha traduto.
Ncoppa a sti ccorne fatte 'nu surriso,
ca pure Napulione era cornuto!".
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