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"stu" poems
we're aboard the bus me and Gus me and Gus we're aboard the bus we're going to West Avenue to throw a few punches in the gym with Stu we're going to West Avenue to throw a few punches in the gym with Stu Stu is a great puncher his punches are accurate his left hook knocks other dudes really flat Stu has them dudes well ironed out on the mat Stu has them dudes well ironed out on the mat us guys on the rough side of town have to know how to solidly punch to knock those gang members down those gang members are tough and mean they are the toughest and meanest gang members on the rough side of town Gus and I are going to take those gang members on take them on take them on they aren't going to give Gus and I no knock out gong no knock out gong Gus and I will have a retinue of punches to plant on their noses they'll be redder than a bunch of roses Gus and I get aboard the bus to go Stu's gym we're learning punching skills off him
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Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
At The Gym ( A Rap Poem)
I'm Having A Relapse My muscles shaking my bones jarring I'm stu- stu- stuttering, I'm Having A Relapse sleep walking while wide away, dazed in a dream like state, I need a fix I'm itching- scratching rubbing my hand and thighs You, You you oh why'd you do this to me Screaming & tryna climb walls I'm Having A Relapse No no nooo don't stop higher YESss Higher bring me closer closure I'm Having A Relapse I went to the doctor to get help He said He couldn't Wouldn't help me is what He means I run walk talk to myself Help me Please! Shaking, sweating,coughing with drive heaves I feel so funny I can smell taste & feel it coming I'm bursting with need Please PLEASE release this desire this fire which had consumed me, Lived in my core my very being, shut the blinds, turn off the lights, I wont eat can't sleep, Walking in a funk ,dazed and lonely Don't hold me!!!! Don't TOUCH !!! Just give in Help me , Just um, Please PLEASEEE, Just Oh Lawd please Just um Baby Just HELP MEEEEEE........... YESSSSS!!!!!!! **** ME!!!! Until I can't breath, I need YOU. you Oh You........ You know your the cause of me Having A Relapse! *** Addiction Can hinder you or for me lol make love making so painfully good!) Always me Ayeshah
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Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 9:58 PM UTC
Relapse.............
dimble dumble, caught a, thimble thumble of precious morning dew. dimble dumble, took his thumble thimble, full up to rimful. on his nimble rambull wooly stu, careful not to lose, a drippity drop of the delicious dew. they flimble, flambled, up and overed, down and undered, till dimble dumble, with his thimble thumble, filled to rimful, on the wooly rambull... came to stumble. his face a crumble, as the rimful, roamed and overflew, the thimble thumble walls. a dribble drabble did scribble scrabble, down the rambulls hide. dimble dumble chewed his bottom lip and cried. "do not fret my little pet, look there is still enough inside" wooly stu decried. "i'll be more staid,as we ride our fortunes, soon will be made." so,dimble dumble and his rambull crew, with thimble thumble recovered, from the tumble. on they skedoodledaddled. being careful to protect the remaining morning petal's dew. after a while, time, flew with dove like grace and dimble dumble, with his dudes came to the the very place, of the rimble romble rumble and royal rapture rap parade dimble dumble and rambull stu on bended knee and really humble presented their thimble thumble not quiet full to rim still but delicious and felitious morning dew to the king awaiting his purchase and perview. before its spoiling, it was boiling, his kettle singing, songs a ringing, to the beauteous, but not so bountious, morning dew. dimble dumble watched the thimble thumble steam and bubble blip away. hands flipping flapping nose jinkling wrinkling as the fog blew, his way boiling dew, tea leaves darjeeling with daphne blossoms was the flavour of the day. dimble dumble with thimble thumble empty now and too, wooly stu caught a peek of teacups platinum holding royal blossom brew before the butler, with a silly stutter, sent them on their way, with dimble dumble all a fumble, with a thimble thumble of goldenboldens, as his hard work's reward that day.
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Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
dimble dumble's day
dimble dumble, caught a, thimble thumble of precious morning dew. dimble dumble, took his thumble thimble, full up to rimful. on his nimble rambull wooly stu, careful not to lose, a drippity drop of the delicious dew. they flimble, flambled, up and overed, down and undered, till dimble dumble, with his thimble thumble, filled to rimful, on the wooly rambull... came to stumble. his face a crumble, as the rimful, roamed and overflew, the thimble thumble walls. a dribble drabble did scribble scrabble, down the rambulls hide. dimble dumble chewed his bottom lip and cried. "do not fret my little pet, look there is still enough inside" wooly stu decried. "i'll be more staid,as we ride our fortunes, soon will be made." so,dimble dumble and his rambull crew, with thimble thumble recovered, from the tumble. on they skedoodledaddled. being careful to protect the remaining morning petal's dew. after a while, time, flew with dove like grace and dimble dumble, with his dudes came to the the very place, of the rimble romble rumble and royal rapture rap parade dimble dumble and rambull stu on bended knee and really humble presented their thimble thumble not quiet full to rim still but delicious and felitious morning dew to the king awaiting his purchase and perview. before its spoiling, it was boiling, his kettle singing, songs a ringing, to the beauteous, but not so bountious, morning dew. dimble dumble watched the thimble thumble steam and bubble blip away. hands flipping flapping nose jinkling wrinkling as the fog blew, his way boiling dew, tea leaves darjeeling with daphne blossoms was the flavour of the day. dimble dumble with thimble thumble empty now and too, wooly stu caught a peek of teacups platinum holding royal blossom brew before the butler, with a silly stutter, sent them on their way, with dimble dumble all a fumble, with a thimble thumble of goldenboldens, as his hard work's reward that day.
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78
The trip was awesome Learning about the camera The first week's over
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Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 8:46 AM UTC
Stu-day #4
Studying, hear them? Students dying. Losing more than the gained knowledge. Madness, coming quicker than light. horrid torrents of things to learn fast. Lectures, pointless. No actual skill. Where's x and why for the speed limit. Teachers, idle. Just talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk. Students, worried of what to do next. They learned nothing since school system ***** Grades, so cruel but merely so little. A way too important letter or number. Lesson, learned. If you want to die. Do the student's way. Stu-Dying.
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Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
StuDying
Do you want the truth? I ideally I would want A taller than me By much Blonde haired Blue Eyed Boy With no dark secrets Or spare tickets To the club But what I keep getting Is a dark haired Dark eyed Know it all who drinks till hes drunk Smokes till hes gone And bleeds on the outside Looking in Listlessly and amourously For the first month. And a quarter of the Half. Then he turns Rambles softly Moving On. Oh What a sweet tragedy love. And oh how stupid we are for wanting it.
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Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 4:49 PM UTC
Stu{pity} ( Mispelled Lovers)
Trapped within this heat there’s an Ocean of thoughts defeating me. Suicide has come and gone even death Is confused. I am awake yet the whole Of ikasi is half-asleep. Conflict between races: black, white, yellow, I mix these colors and get red for bloodshed Bombarding my mind as I choose my artillery: Butcher’s knife or bread knife? Mxm **** it, I opt to Load my machine gun as I take no prisoners. I live only by one rule “spare not the feelings of those Who have none.” As my stu-stu-stu-stuttering riffle goes “tat’ i cover lova,” They blaze to bushes with rampaging speed and seeing as my weight Constitutes a majority of ten, I choose to be democratic and side with its Vote, by not running but instead sending a hail of bullets. Voetsek, Voetsek and Voetsek I say!! As dusk breaks into dawn I am shattered into reality as prison introduces me to myself. I started shaking like the last shivering leaf on a dying tree and came to realize: The person whom I slaughtered was not only my neighbor, but was also my brother and if I have to suffer for my brother whom they call ikwerekere to survive, then I say “give me pain till I die!”.
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Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 8:18 AM UTC
Mzansi' reality
In my head I am the Russian Roulatte In a tee *** I beg for trust When poured out The foam becomes of your mouth I do buisness in China Shipped to Pueto Rico Make tongues flip as sharp as a Nurican Dominican Jitter till hearts stop beating on top of Italian pool tables I steal breathes from science who believe in what is not in the Bible I am your Russian Roulette Make a feline spray a *** spot in here ****** Make a King errect New Your late night star lights when they stu'n Change the tune in your song from spittin rap versus to singing to God that you was wrong I beat the drugs Put a end to your habbit So when you feel you cant utter a verse I'll let you howl like a suffering rabbit Because no one knows how to use me right I am the only bullet tucked in to take away your life As soon as I leap forward to your attention you will be adoment to a pension Stire clear I am here No intentions but to terminate erosions Respect what I may Careful when you choose to play You must reconsider the outcome I am The Russian Roulette. © the Russian Roulette S.T. Rebel of Eden
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Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 6:58 AM UTC
THE RUSSIAN ROULETTE: hard street style poetry
Roses are red Violets are blue Everyone's making hello poetry So I made one too because poopy Roses are red Violets are blue I see a sign that says "Explicit?" And now I'm thinking if I should click it Roses are red Violets are blue I think roses can be pink too And violets aren't blue how stu Roses are red Violets are blue This is my first poem here Potato.
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Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 4:53 AM UTC
I'm Here
Do you think it's funny to have a stu stu stutter like me when I hiccup I do **** do you think that is funny I te te tell you it hurts to cough look at the blood know that I am dying Lay me in the gutter for there is where I die with stutters on my blooded lips oh what a surprise Close the shutters for when I die I do my second best thing I stutter and go nova By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
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May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
The Stu Stu Stutter Gutter
Study. . .stud. . .stu. . .st. . .s. . .sl. . .sle. . .slee. . .Sleep
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Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 6:24 PM UTC
Brain Code
Shadows moving to my door, Pleasure seeking at my wife's Feet, I explode into many Different pieces, the kitchens Taken by me with her sweets. Strawberry goodin's Apple pie loving. Rock and rock on the record Player, track number seven. Kashmir, stairway to heaven. Boogie with stu Zeppelin to contend with. Melody sound's Loud we yelp out. It's privacy No knocking, Keep the neighbors far- And out, southern Soulfood after the sweet Devotion, the nights almost Over, like a clover I'm lucky In her promotion.
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Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
Just like a clover im lucky with her
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.
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'O schiattamuorto
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.
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55
Sometimes it’s best to keep the things we hold dear to us to ourselves. Just so the shadows don’t try to take them away. The shadows are things we call friends because they’ve always been there. They’re also called foes because of what they do.  It’s a secret though. They told me not to tell. One’s name is Janis. She wants to leave but never can. Another’s name is John. He always screams as if he’s forced to never stop. They told me not to tell. “Always keep it to yourself because we’ll take it away.” “Why do you scream?  Why can’t you ever just sleep?!” They told me not to tell my secrets because they’ll be used against me. My name is Callie. I’m only age 6. My name is _________. I have — who are you again? My n-name is A- Al- Alexa. I have a s- stu- st- stutter My name is Kelly.  I’m a mystery never solved. They told me not to tell the-… no!  I won’t… they told me not to tell. The shadows are my friends and the words will not hurt. They told me they would — The voices are my friends.  The voices are my friends.  The panic is my comfort.  The panic is my comfort.  The story is perfect.  Your story is perfect.  Our story is perfect.   They’ll never know who I killed. They’ll never know how it feels. They’ll never know the voices were always there. They told me not to tell my secrets because they’ll be used against me… … but they also told me they’d never let me go even though they promised.  I guess the voices were right - I should have never told…
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Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
They Told Me Not To Tell...
Sometimes it’s best to keep the things we hold dear to us to ourselves. Just so the shadows don’t try to take them away. The shadows are things we call friends because they’ve always been there. They’re also called foes because of what they do.  It’s a secret though. They told me not to tell. One’s name is Janis. She wants to leave but never can. Another’s name is John. He always screams as if he’s forced to never stop. They told me not to tell. “Always keep it to yourself because we’ll take it away.” “Why do you scream?  Why can’t you ever just sleep?!” They told me not to tell my secrets because they’ll be used against me. My name is Callie. I’m only age 6. My name is _________. I have — who are you again? My n-name is A- Al- Alexa. I have a s- stu- st- stutter My name is Kelly.  I’m a mystery never solved. They told me not to tell the-… no!  I won’t… they told me not to tell. The shadows are my friends and the words will not hurt. They told me they would — The voices are my friends.  The voices are my friends.  The panic is my comfort.  The panic is my comfort.  The story is perfect.  Your story is perfect.  Our story is perfect.   They’ll never know who I killed. They’ll never know how it feels. They’ll never know the voices were always there. They told me not to tell my secrets because they’ll be used against me… … but they also told me they’d never let me go even though they promised.  I guess the voices were right - I should have never told…
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How do eyes hide lies How do eyes paint the disguise You wear so seamlessly You  whisper words of forever so dreamlessly But naive I will buy it all and fall and fall Deeper into this picture perfect wonderland I will have this fairytale overrated brand Of what it is to be in heart racing Butterfly inducing Stu-stuh-stutterr causing lo-luh-lust Because everyone knows that wide eyed girl Lost in her curiosity Who wandered astray and came upon your animosity.
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Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 5:12 PM UTC
Love lost in Lust
I' tengo 'e llire, nun me manca niente, me pozzo accattà chello ca me piace: na statua d'oro, nu vapore argiento... palazze, ville... case in quantità. - Chi è cchiù felice 'e te?! - mme dice 'a ggente. - Si ricco, si guaglione... che te manca? - E chest' è overo, nun me manca niente. Sulo na cosa mme vurria accattà... Nu core... tutto core 'e tennerezza ca me vulesse na muntagna 'e bbene... ca me sbattesse 'mmano p' 'a priezza, cuntento pe mme dà 'a felicità. Dipende a me; nun voglio aspettà ancora. Tuzzuliaje a porta 'e na figliola: - Che t'aggia dà pe m'accattà stu core? Qualunque prezzo, dì, che t'aggia dà? - Me rispunnette cu bella maniera: - 'O core nun se venne... se riala... crediteme, ca io ve sò sincera... cu 'e llire 'o core nun se pò accattà!
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Che me manca!
Stu-pid. Stu-pid. Stu-pid. Can you hear it? stupid stupid stupid I hear it. The sound of my heart. Don't you? It seems so loud When it's hammering In my ears. Don't listen. stupidstupidstupid I trusted them. stu pid stu pid stu pid I was stupid.
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Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
Stupid
Stu-stu-stuttering Under those beautiful shadows Near edgar street Halloween, light lamps pumpkins Sh-sh-shaking hands You looked so broken shattered "You haven't been yourself lately." "Well maybe I have." "No no no this isn't you." "Maybe it is, maybe im just sick of pretending." -"Have you been eating? When's the last time you had a goodnight's sleep?" "Why does it matter..." I wanted to remember how the light illuminated your cheekbones But made those shadows under your eyes darker They seemed to taunt your face Dancing around producing fearful images I was surprised you were still awake What a beautiful mess you looked... What a beautiful mess you looked like "Y-you-you think the world is a beautiful place dont you?" "I think It can be." You looked haunted. "Yeah, for those who sleep."
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Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 7:22 PM UTC
Tell me about your nightmare sweetheart
SON OF A BI...BIT...BITC...GUN! Porky Pig hits his thumb with a hammer. It swells up and throbs only like a cartoon can. Now, back then... *****  is not a word you use in cartoon land or in front of your Dad or Mum. But Porky stu...stu...stamm...stutters: ”Oh! SON OF A BI..BIT...GUN!" Then winks at us and says: ”Ha you thought I was goin’ to say: 'BITCH!' ...didn't ya!" It catches on... becomes a catch phrase. We use it every time we can. Everything is BI...BI...BI...GUN! Mum can’t understand where we got the word from. When we explain - she frets: “Don’t tell Porkie Pies! Porky Pig would never say that! ”
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Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 6:57 PM UTC
SON OF A BI...BIT...BITC...GUN!
I'm now in week 2 Learned about Instagram Curious but bored
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Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC
Stu-day #5
I remember being proud of every granule of dirt Raw beaten earth, I built my temple out of. Every water molecule in my crimson blood Carefully selected to carry an essence That I protected, with the support of glass bones Wrapped in healing wounds, Putting everything I have into Forgetting how to flinch Regardless of the brutality life Tries to dress me in, Or smother me with . Work through psychological damages Practice away my st stu stutter, putting away broken syllables un uttered. I will rise, you can not keep me tonight I hunger to fight, Walk right up to the dark like I never new the way it turns you into nothing If you think im crazy, Maybe your right but im reminding you of something, something that you tell yourself can't exist something you let go of , something that you miss. A sort of  irrationality that's still making perfect sense, plays in your morality defies your common sense. This is the only chance I have at persisting to laugh And I Will persist. The only  way for me to stay bright The only way to keep light in my dimming eyes Is to shine and let them see . Something about existing, and persisting In vulnerability is more than frightening It is freeing. I AM, as surly as I am being, I’m lifted, I’ve missed this. I hope you catch the meaning The thought of missing it Leaves me feeling guilty Like my will was straying, praying to nothing For things I had but wasn’t seeing. I forgot to believe That I was impossible and that i'm breathing.
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Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
Shine and let them see
I remember being proud of every granule of dirt Raw beaten earth, I built my temple out of. Every water molecule in my crimson blood Carefully selected to carry an essence That I protected, with the support of glass bones Wrapped in healing wounds, Putting everything I have into Forgetting how to flinch Regardless of the brutality life Tries to dress me in, Or smother me with . Work through psychological damages Practice away my st stu stutter, putting away broken syllables un uttered. I will rise, you can not keep me tonight I hunger to fight, Walk right up to the dark like I never new the way it turns you into nothing If you think im crazy, Maybe your right but im reminding you of something, something that you tell yourself can't exist something you let go of , something that you miss. A sort of  irrationality that's still making perfect sense, plays in your morality defies your common sense. This is the only chance I have at persisting to laugh And I Will persist. The only  way for me to stay bright The only way to keep light in my dimming eyes Is to shine and let them see . Something about existing, and persisting In vulnerability is more than frightening It is freeing. I AM, as surly as I am being, I’m lifted, I’ve missed this. I hope you catch the meaning The thought of missing it Leaves me feeling guilty Like my will was straying, praying to nothing For things I had but wasn’t seeing. I forgot to believe That I was impossible and that i'm breathing.
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53
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. -
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'A 'mmasciata
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. -
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41
ale czysto w tej E - U - Ρ - Ω - Π - J - Η. islam leiben historie, nicht Ottoman, Ottoman pseudo Khan, islam leiben historie: eins, zwei, drei und vierte maulkor'bzeugè'naussagé (sausage marathon); they love their history mind you ψι and τρι...  kaganiec u stóp w krok stu odpowiedzi w jedną droge: raz jeszcze, w las i w cienie iglą tej tętnicy wybryk chęć na gre, by zadać zbyteczne  pytanie! na odpowiedź oskarzyć czas z wiedzą zegara, i tą ostateczną, wartą końca, namylsnością... ponownie oskarzyć jako począt narodu - tylko golasa, warte imie kroka ka ka kar Kasymir'ah! wedle Tsara, czołem w tło wymagań na wyryte zapomnieniem lat: oddech'u Uzbeku chafta wspomnień wiatru i chorongiew latawcy jak niby urojen konceptu narodu... ja człek tylko w psiarni! i tak powiem, tak, wiara, panem na zbyt wiele pamięci Janosika i Radio Maria; o tyle czerpie zgon, ponownie, ponownie, by ocalić, niby swiętego, i pogrzebać swój naród... ale wstyd! wstyd! by ocalić jednego niby swiętego, lecz nadać obszar rodem Polak'a ponad Polske i w ramach Irlandie; jaki to wstyd nawet ten mnie wart, co nie nada snu! co za wstyd - nie warto umierać wiele razy, kiedy ten ostatecny oznacza raz jeszcze -                       quo vadis, qua lectio? - ten raz jeszcze, i ten ostatni, o tyle wiele poradni przed wieloma nocami snu.
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
maulkorb hund (forgotten Europe)
eyes are dripping like gutters after the rain hands are shaking like an addict's breaths are short and fast like someone who ran a race mind is stu-stu-stuck like a br-broken record
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Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 8:38 AM UTC
panic
I have one too many personalities, I don't know which one is really me, So if I'm nice at first, and then I'm mean, You just met Sally, and then met Steve. Yes it's strange, But don't be alarmed, Steve and Sally cause no harm, Neither does Sarah, or Sammy, or Stu, But Darwin and Devin and David sure do. Be cautious around us, The villains I named, You won't know who's who, We all look the same. Half of us would hug you, And falsely reminisce, But half of us will **** you, So in this cell we sit.
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
If four is a party, then this is a parade.