"strenuously" poems
Sloane swallows.
***** is ****
I execrate extraterrestrial.
We are all kaput to conk out.
Pollyanna is singular hanky—panky.
Little green men are unpatriotic, perverted and naughty.
I verily don’t grease a *****
Oojakapivvycum.
If you are amphibious that means you are an effervescent ventriloquist capable of
Cannibalism, cannibalism and cannibalism.
The fluid inside the android is so gothic and naff
It is knock—kneed in the face of flashing **********
I do not feel that I am on the shoulders of cobber doggies.
I am protoplastically lassoed abutting penetrating vampire and pervert
That penetrate ***** creature.
I have pricked little green men myself and taken pleasure in it.
It is only with the help of bad hair days of groupies that I have not been in Sing Sing.
We are all sadomasochistically decomposing in a heap of our own meconium.
I bore stiff to outstrip yours truly as much as I have room to swing a cat from Ku Klux ****
But I am as complicit in the android’s ****** abuse as it were android ***
Little green men ***** me as I ***** myself.
I ***** bug—eyed men’s ******* types as I have perpetually vomited Molotov cocktail.
I smell little green men’s filth televised on their ******* types.
I feel like I am inside a crust of cancers who delight in smelling others bonk upstairs,
Ad hominen id. Ex post facto,
I am too much of a dastard to throw cold water on myself.
I coagulate gungily to my menstrual gibbering ******
Castrating anti—Semite to flash me abutting crème de la crème.
Strenuously, my ***** gluts under one’s nose because that is all there is.
Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 6:27 PM UTC
Accept death as it is;
The inescapable destiny of live beings.
There is no reason
To think strenuously about death.
The man who is permanently thinking about death
Will not find sufficient energy to be proud of living
And thus will live his days melancholically.
Whereas the man who is not worried about death
May seize his days and become happy.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
With every beckoning move
My power self destructed
I stood among the audience
With no outrageous opinions
I performed as a harlequin
Trying to dulcify my motives
My torn pockets spilling sand
The baptism of fire
They said they were comrades
But at that moment
They enunciated
My defeat
Strenuously.
I'm tired of seeing the wall break
My cigarette stained hands yearn for demise
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
Part 2.
The cracking smile on her face, faded as he lifted her hands away. Propagating a gap between them, granting the cold air a territory,
to crawl among the spaces.
There was an interval silence before she broke it.
"Would it hurt you if I chose something beautiful?".
Deep down, she truly wished that it wouldn't.
She then profoundly started studying him who was strenuously absorbed into fathomless thoughts.
Another deadly silence filled in the room.
To her great misery, he murmured, "I don't know."
Along with a vulnerable gaze and a despairing smile, she let the words escape, "Tell me the truth then, will you?"
He raised his eyebrows, "should I?"
She nodded, as she barely knew that he was slightly nervous,
"This," he paused, "thing between us, I don't want it anymore."
She was in a dazed, having a hard time to conceive his sentence and approbate the bitter fact that he quit loving her.
Evenoer
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 5:29 AM UTC
Something about you
draws me in
from higher depths
I sway in disguise
to the pulse of 90s music videos
displaying on the screen
remembering the pulse
of my heart
as I look upon your bright face
vibrant with taste
or concentration
pouring coffee
precisely
right after the buzzer beeps
your new haircut strenuously
framing the corners of your
maleness
each strand a cut
into the interworking of
your hazardous blue eyes
rimmed in ribbon spit
a sci-fi adventure
daring to quit but
it always gets better
somehow
somewhere
deep in these depths
I no longer despair
but three plump days
stand in my way
after the promotion
after your life
getting back into motion
will you remember me
will you miss me
in any way
on hallows eve
like the brush of a sleeve
or the bunch of tight buttons
securing so fast my feeling that
I ache or admire
bind or perspire
muck in the mire
just to hear your handsome voice
as cheerful as sunbeams
cascading up and down my spine
like the thieves of dreams
bounding inside so merrily
hopeful for your attention
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
A promiscuous note
floats across the table
I would conjure the answer, if I were able
Time strenuously stretched past comfortability
Yet I
know your fingers hold the agility
to reply in quickened fashion
Your hands lack the desired passion, they lack the action
A pen stroke holds the balance of hope
But all I got back from you was
"Nope"
Aug 8, 2023
Aug 8, 2023 at 12:34 PM UTC
The gray cloudy sky scream(ing)s
Only icy clouds throw down their hail-on the earth-
To **** the green (belt) with their viole(n)t dance-
And (to )red(d) ( the) shadowy earth- still cries-we are alive-
Throwing up all its war(ren) shadows to the sky
To reach the per(im)manent heaven with their painful sacrifice.
The heaven strenuously may (h)eat the pain (through)
In silence- we are existent-we feel the pain-
The last remnants of the green may rustle in the leaves
Trying to soak into the rotten yellow.
The blue may (stage) whisper in the breeze,
Holding the memories of the past.
Voices from extra dimensions
(I live adding new dimensions to my life)
And psychedelic visions
May irreversibly modify the ( sixth) sense of the reality.
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 7:55 PM UTC
to love
it is
the me to care for lips seriously fragile. the
for me
to leap strenuously knowing
and dance amongst unknowing
the towering cadence, my heart. to
the for me (love) the
sturdily upheave the slowly clamoring of soil,
and march widely the span, my kiss, through closing
and meet with your kiss, the legion, my soul;
(a parting of silence. a fiercely innocent foal)
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 3:47 PM UTC
Existence stretches itself
like a rubber cap
strenuously spanning birth and death
Fitted tightly over the grease
and wheels while it waits
cross-legged, unhurried
(flipping calendars)
for the groan that halts
its throbbing clockwork
Even when Life first has snapped
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
A cultural cup of tea
Coffee isn't my bean but give me tea leaves
A cup of cha do la not cocoa ta no ta
Brew me up chuck no Italian espresso like muck
Caffeine in the shape of a tea bag in a mug glug slug glug
Two sugars please love as I wink to see her breast in the gaze of my eyes pleased
No Darjeeling just plain old tea with a tea spoon and a bag to strenuously squeeze
A British moment of the day that almost everyone lifts their cup and elbows to the skies
I am an English man and I will have a decent cup of tea because it is in my cultural rites
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 4:40 AM UTC
There's no sleep for the tired eyes
And the 5 lost souls
Have been bribed
To stay awake
And wait for the apocalypse
In hues of broken dreams
Strenuously.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
There should not be
a fiddle of pain.
The chords should not
strenuously
vibrate up the line
from love
to highs
of depression.
Touch them
feel the strings,
feel their strength
and breakability.
There is nothing
more touching
than empathy.
And when the final reside
becomes a resurrection,
put it in your place of empathy,
not hope.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
Why can't I be I?
Copying others strenuously try
In the fire-pan I fry! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 12:11 AM UTC
Pious black ladders
scatter young twigs beneath,
a dose of Q and A
kills all known conversation.
The kids in the back hall
score vermin
a dose of Strychnine
lauders still.
To undo this burning energy
the lay- bys
strenuously breaks into laughter
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 3:34 PM UTC
*When I look at all of their accomplishments
I see me
I see the potential I could be
The time inside therein intertwined
Most strenuously
And yet
I know my motives are not pure
And so I wait
For calling to be
On a shelf because
Selfishness will not endure
But a calling will last for forever*
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 12:47 PM UTC
I cannot see
The bitter truth
Lying beneath the stones I've broken
Carved on those little pieces
Objectifying shattered hopes
Strenuously believe it's going to be alright
And purport to be satiated
I cannot ignore the buzz of the crowd
And let down the expectation
Of people whose brains collapsed
While serving me
I cannot see what lies beneath the oceans
And walk past those innumerable secrets
With my eyes closed
And my ribs holding on to my lungs
And my cigarette stained hands yearning for demise.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 3:52 PM UTC
Have you every tried to say "goodbye"?
I mean painfully and strenuously try...
It truly is easy to say
With this I do not lie
"Goodbye, for a while" is what we mean
"See you later" or "some other time"
"Ta ta for now" and "until we meet again"
But plans can change on a dime
A "bye" between those who know it's the end
A "bye" said with head turned 'round
A "bye" between friends with hope but knowledge
Good friends are a hard thing found
This is "goodbye". The time has come
I find it hard to say without tears
And though our paths are split from here
I will never forget these years...
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 10:45 PM UTC
(there is always this moment)
quietly . littlely
soft within
bed and thinking
of lips eyes hair
breathing
still and strenuously
pressed beneath breast .
the heart feels
and pushes against
rib and spine;
(a fan plays
/
the cat eats)
and lingers little sleep,
for thought is always
and always of thoughts
there is something
somewhere
difficultly serene
improbable to touch
yet touches with
exacting grace;
My dear:
My love
of nothing
Little which
you are
not real
your hand is a vapor
of tense reeling to tingle
under skin which rushes
with clovered spice
of splintered health.
(my love i have always loved you
that you are not something real;
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 1:11 AM UTC
Alfred has Arthritis
Since Alfred, the man who strenuously denies
fatherhood got arthritis in his hands, it often happens
when it gets cold. He sleeps to noon take forever
in the bathroom before going to town looking like an artist
in his alpaca jacket and French beret.
He eats lunch in town alone never think of inviting me
and in the evening watches Bulgarian soap opera,
having him here has put a strain I'm thinking of sending
he at home didn't think it would come to that.
He sits by the fire I buy the wood, I will tell him he is not
my father and tell him to leave; perhaps next winter.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 7:20 AM UTC
I watched a worker strenuously wipe the water-stained glass door, this Monday.
I walked past a building wet with rain; the patterns were a graceful grey.
I watched an old lady, seated in the passenger seat of her car, draw smileys on her window.
I walked, trying not to step on a million little watery crevices on the sidewalk.
With water stains, everything has come alive.
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 8:36 AM UTC