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"sympathetic" poems
Ebola! Ebola! Ebola! you are only hunting in the exhausted fields, you predecessors have done evil marvel in this land Africa's sons and daughter were heavily taken away in slave raid, colonial rampage two world wars, cancer and *** aids, Ebola you must be ashamed to come here, are you as foolish as lioness that must follow the path initially taken by her husband the lion? Ebola Africa is dead tired and lain forlorn by strange diseases not known by it but only named in the land of their cradle where *** was born in the Irish Laboratory on trial and error to decimate Africa's populations in the racially biased arsenal you have also come you fangled teeth a bare menace to each of us you make us bleed from out body holes, blood oozing out like Nile water from lake Victoria Ebola! Ebola! sympathy is not a vice, but heavenly virtue, only protege of the Godly please be sympathetic to Africa the orphan of the classic times with no succour her wounds of Cancer are fresh and fresh as those obnoxites from the nasty Aids aka *** kindly empathize with Africa you have eaten Mali and Nigeria after Congo Kinshasa you are now in Kenya the neighbor of Sudan the last born of Africa already rendered forlorn by the AK 47 and AK 74, shot in the tribal tremors O! Ebola Ebola! my prayer to you is as brief as that; forgive me for my weird mourning of my brothers and sister in death mongering mandibles so ugly and Abysmal like Gehenna of Jesus Christ, Amen!
0
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 7:47 PM UTC
Ebola
"Over here"... but nothing. The scene continues unabated by my presence. Plastic smiles and lustful eyes bountiful but not for me..never me. In the mirror' s unforgiving gaze I am unrecognizable Replaced with a crude rendering of my previous likeness fashioned by children with lumpy imperfect clay. Silence replaces loving laughter that used to follow my witty banter. Silence and stares.  Sympathetic stares tinged with smugness and fear. "Over here...over here..." still nothing.
0
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
Invisible
I sit on the step And draw The cold around me Like a blanket, Savouring the numbness And the heat That begins within. Swallowed by the night Drunk on wine And stars. Hot tears on cold cheeks. Seasoning for Chapped lips Stinging Bringing fresh tears. I take refuge In the silence, Under the gaze of Sympathetic eyes. My friends. My constant companions. Drunk on wine And stars.
0
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
On wine and stars
Ebola Ebola! Ebola! Ebola! you are only hunting in the exhausted fields, you predecessors have done evil marvel in this land Africa's sons and daughter were heavily taken away in slave raid, colonial rampage two world wars ,cancer and *** aids, Ebola you must be ashamed to come here, are you as foolish as lioness that must follow the path initially taken by her husband the lion? Ebola Africa is dead tired and lain forlorn by strange diseases not known by it but only named in the land of their cradle where *** was born in the Irish Laboratory on trial and error to decimate Africa's populations in the racially biased arsenal you have also come you fangled teeth a bare menace to each of us you make us bleed from out body holes, blood oozing out like Nile water from lake Victoria Ebola ! Ebola ! sympathy is not a vice , but heavenly virtue, only protege of the Godly please be sympathetic to Africa the orphan of the classic times with no succour her wounds of Cancer are fresh and fresh as those obnoxites from the nasty Aids aka *** kindly empathize with Africa you have eaten Mali and Nigeria after Congo Kinshasa you are now in Kenya the neighbor of Sudan the last born of Africa already rendered forlorn by the AK 47 and AK 74 , shot in the tribal tremors O! Ebola Ebola ! my prayer to you is as brief as that; forgive me for my weird mourning of my brothers and sister in death mongering mandibles so ugly and Abysmal like Gehenna of Jesus Christ, Amen !
0
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
Ebola
And life came in, crowned in blood, kissed and messed, announcing itself with a cry.   A girl-child, missing piece, fitted to my breast her weight absorbed with my heart's sigh She was fear personified, so heavenly blessed, she made my terrified simpers her lullaby. I felt my heart's core swell to absorb her scent, and my eyes overflowed with love's cascading cry. She cast light into my darkened chaotic hurt - sparked a desire to wake, to live, to try, clasping her whole fist around my ring finger, holding me still; the whole world passing by. And in her absence she left her shadow nestled in my chest. And in my absence I hid my kisses in her sigh. She grew with eyes of blue and a sympathetic smile - all faerie dust on the wing of a butterfly, an almost echo of a girl I once knew. Except she didn't know that kind of cry, wouldn't know anything less than rainbows, than Christmas mornings and endless blue skies. We tripped, clicked heels through the passing years, from little girl to little woman in the blink of an eye, till we were both wearing her shoes instead of mine. And like Alice, she snapped from low to high she grew - time sculpting curvy definitions of who I hope and fear she will be. She is golden curls and girlish giggles ever wondering the where or the why ever seeking to help, to heal, to try to pour her heart into an undeserving world. She has legs she claims to stand her ground to be, to free, to hold her own. And though like me, she is not me, since she is so much braver than I. Her finger is wrapped around her innocence holding strong to consent or deny. This life will make her cry her tears and this world will realise her fears but she will ever have the wings to fly and I will ever ready to sing her our lullaby.
0
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 3:37 PM UTC
Beck Bees
And life came in, crowned in blood, kissed and messed, announcing itself with a cry.   A girl-child, missing piece, fitted to my breast her weight absorbed with my heart's sigh She was fear personified, so heavenly blessed, she made my terrified simpers her lullaby. I felt my heart's core swell to absorb her scent, and my eyes overflowed with love's cascading cry. She cast light into my darkened chaotic hurt - sparked a desire to wake, to live, to try, clasping her whole fist around my ring finger, holding me still; the whole world passing by. And in her absence she left her shadow nestled in my chest. And in my absence I hid my kisses in her sigh. She grew with eyes of blue and a sympathetic smile - all faerie dust on the wing of a butterfly, an almost echo of a girl I once knew. Except she didn't know that kind of cry, wouldn't know anything less than rainbows, than Christmas mornings and endless blue skies. We tripped, clicked heels through the passing years, from little girl to little woman in the blink of an eye, till we were both wearing her shoes instead of mine. And like Alice, she snapped from low to high she grew - time sculpting curvy definitions of who I hope and fear she will be. She is golden curls and girlish giggles ever wondering the where or the why ever seeking to help, to heal, to try to pour her heart into an undeserving world. She has legs she claims to stand her ground to be, to free, to hold her own. And though like me, she is not me, since she is so much braver than I. Her finger is wrapped around her innocence holding strong to consent or deny. This life will make her cry her tears and this world will realise her fears but she will ever have the wings to fly and I will ever ready to sing her our lullaby.
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40
The yearning gentleman journeyed near and far Hoping to acquire his long-sought heart's desire Pictures carefully painted from a copy of a euphoric time A multitude of young memories drawn from an aging mind From storybooks he conjured up the delicate princess and the pea Next came the white-eyed fairy beauty sailing deep lavender seas Red headed was the other with eyes of fire Nought satisfied his slowing blood And hearts desire Life with a light kiss Sprinkled upon him a touch of madness and sublime Flung before him mountains with invisible peaks to climb Sympathetic were the gods in their mercy In forever withholding the knowledge Alas there were no princesses to rescue And no more fire breathing dragons All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Aug. 8, 2018
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Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 11:34 AM UTC
No more Princesses and Dragons
The parasympathetic nervous system is responsible for regulations unconsciously transpiring within the organs and the glands of the body. Such as: urination, salivation, digestion, defecation, and lacrimation (noun. ‘the flow of tears’. Latin. from lacrimare (‘weep’) and lacrima (‘tear’). It’s why I cry even when I don’t want to. You are the parasympathetic nervous system. The (ortho-)sympathetic nervous system is responsible for the mobilization of the fight-or-flight response and constantly maintaining homeostasis within the body. It acts rapidly, enacting an attempt at stability and the necessary and critical ability to suddenly escape on pulsing legs or cling to survival through brandishing adrenaline-doused knuckles and dilated pupils. It’s why you live even when you don’t want to. I am the sympathetic nervous system. The parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous systems are two of three essential nervous systems which compose the autonomic nervous system (a part of the peripheral nervous system) that manages involuntary functions of the body. Such as: swallowing, perspiration, arousal, breathing, and heart rate (noun. ‘the speed of the heartbeat’. usually expressed in beats per minute. mine speeds up when I see you). Individually these two systems oppose but compliment each other like our hands do— pressed together and omitting equal force; veins meeting at the fingertips and throbbing at the wrists but running amuck on our respective digits otherwise. You are the invariable and unspoken reminder to breath, love, sweat, and live. I am the sudden snap of reality always aiming to save you but grudgingly willing to fight you and ready to leave. From the deepest lower half of my brainstem and from every nerve in my cycling body, I’m sorry. From all of my chromaffin cells and from the truest parts of submandibular ganglian, I am sorry.
0
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
don't ask me what a submandibular ganglian is because i won't know (a biologically correct love letter)
The parasympathetic nervous system is responsible for regulations unconsciously transpiring within the organs and the glands of the body. Such as: urination, salivation, digestion, defecation, and lacrimation (noun. ‘the flow of tears’. Latin. from lacrimare (‘weep’) and lacrima (‘tear’). It’s why I cry even when I don’t want to. You are the parasympathetic nervous system. The (ortho-)sympathetic nervous system is responsible for the mobilization of the fight-or-flight response and constantly maintaining homeostasis within the body. It acts rapidly, enacting an attempt at stability and the necessary and critical ability to suddenly escape on pulsing legs or cling to survival through brandishing adrenaline-doused knuckles and dilated pupils. It’s why you live even when you don’t want to. I am the sympathetic nervous system. The parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous systems are two of three essential nervous systems which compose the autonomic nervous system (a part of the peripheral nervous system) that manages involuntary functions of the body. Such as: swallowing, perspiration, arousal, breathing, and heart rate (noun. ‘the speed of the heartbeat’. usually expressed in beats per minute. mine speeds up when I see you). Individually these two systems oppose but compliment each other like our hands do— pressed together and omitting equal force; veins meeting at the fingertips and throbbing at the wrists but running amuck on our respective digits otherwise. You are the invariable and unspoken reminder to breath, love, sweat, and live. I am the sudden snap of reality always aiming to save you but grudgingly willing to fight you and ready to leave. From the deepest lower half of my brainstem and from every nerve in my cycling body, I’m sorry. From all of my chromaffin cells and from the truest parts of submandibular ganglian, I am sorry.
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67
A little sight, him sauntering over to my side of the bed pantless and looking eager as a child to see me: he had her ******* in mind. I know now, I only feel sympathetic about it, I know it pained him when he touched mine. He said her name so few times I just thought of her as the animal homophone, and if I were anyone else, I would not have worried when he said she thought of him on occasion, because morning came as morning still and he still had a big heart for a liar. The thing is that our rapport was honesty – if I laid on him too heavy, he would request I scoot over if he did not want to sing me a song in that baritone fluid, I would seek another shoreline. Submissive, yet, I would ask him what I wanted without asking if he could simply love being loved, I could not understand. Only a scruffy teddy bear could. But we do not talk about it, maybe I mention a bunny an ex gave me, one I cut the ears off of when the apocalypse came, but he has not a syllable. Nobody wants their lovers to exist with other loves, and sometimes we do not want ourselves to exist with other loves even more so. I only feel sympathetic about it, because I first felt I had a sibling when we connected, became all carnal, sweet nature handed me a body. I only just understood that I was not given the right one.
0
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:02 PM UTC
cat toy
I new something was wrong Everything seemed so real So unconditional Almost too good to be true I was obsessively inlove You new it, you took advantage of my summer hot love Your Hypnotizing winter froze my summer time breeze. My heart in a center, your icicle stabbed right through it several times freezing my summer bleeding heart almost falling apart but still kept together frozen with open wounds You were so cold my heart felt it even in the deepest vain that was once alive . I felt it throb in pain and you felt no sympathetic emotion. I was still frozen after a couple of years you won't let me unfreeze . I started to find comfort in the pain and realized that you didn't want to let me go. I loved you . Gave in the last bit of my soul for you. You didn't care... You loved plenty... Broke hearts... I was just another.. Another heart you won't let mend But then I realized your the only thing holding me together Until you fall for someone else I'll be your submissive And after I'll live in the snow flakes of your winter storm waiting for the next new flake to finish the last bit of my heart.
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Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
Cold hearted
1+8=9 2+7=9 3+6=9 4+5=9 3+3+3=9 4+4+1=9 1+2+3+3=9 2+2+2+2+1=9 1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1=9 Different could be, The way The time The conscience Towards the universal wholeness In the cosmic delusion For the sympathetic joy One could be anywhere In between The above
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Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 9:06 PM UTC
Seeking 9
May I not forget The way skin feels Beneath the wake of my hands Smooth Sympathetic to the touch Rolling Gliding To the rythem I choose My hands envelope you causing parasympathetic response Beneath my finger tips Relaxing you to the fullest A gift to me a gift to you Let me feel Let me give let me love May I not forget The way skin feels Beneath the wake of my hands
0
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
Massage
Sara L Russell, 15th January 2016, 00:04 ------------------------------------------------------------------- So yeah this is me and Julie outside H&M;… trying too hard to look **** Desperate tarts more like. We went to Starbucks after that, then the pub, and then… the rest of the afternoon's a blur. Haha. ----------✿----------- Oh yes and this one's me with Foo Foo, stupid cat's sitting on top of my presentation. She can be useless at times but she makes a good hot water bottle when it's like, really cold? You know? Cats are great for that. Dead sympathetic too. Good listeners. ----------✿----------- Oh now this is a good one. This is me with that **** actor off I'm a Celebrity. He was in… actually I can't remember what he was in? Really like, **** though? Yet I've only seen him on I'm a Celebrity? Anyway he was cool with stopping for a selfie. God love him. (Whoever he is). ----------✿----------- Ahh… this one is me with Julie again. She's such a ****** She's got one of those light up Santa hats on. Daft ***** Never did get one for me. Not that I'd wear one. I prefer those furry reindeer antlers. See? There's one of me with antlers on. ----------✿----------- Oh here's one of me and Mum. Yeah very sad I know. She tries so hard to be cool, bless her. Embarrassing really. I gave her my old phone and she still hasn't worked out how to use it. Takes loads of photos of herself though. So sad.
0
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 7:12 PM UTC
Queen of the Selfie
And their hearts were pure diamond For they would always be Tolerant, Noble, Sympathetic To the needs of those around, But they were susceptible To the weakness of those That were Fragile Flesh Human Emotion would taint the pure, What was once solid changed With each transgression The heart changed Ruby Raged upon those around Uncontrollable cracks did show Emerald     Eyes ignited by the wanting of others Love, belongings, tainted colours showed. Amber They could not take the emotion Confusion Frustration Depression Was the end of many, on to the "Shards of tears" Would many then fall Torn to pebbles, now resting beneath They were once pure heart Diamond, "Shone through" But once the seed planted it grew, "Then the inevitable" The sins turned a heart to stone Frozen with emotion, Erased just cold rock now stood A frozen moment, Life, Stillness, Corruption Had taken another ancient For one day all would be but rock, Those that helped the beginnings of a species Now all is corrupted by the taint that is man..
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Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
Diamond Corrupted To Stone
to more than I can be... a sad isolated man, throes of an agonizing, stretched by her for painful revengeful gain, kissed with pointless avarice, divorce. children deeming him alienating, his faulty insensitive sensitivities, to easy blame little do they know of the piercing lowliness, the looniness of nights he listened to sad-eyed singers, and his late-of-mid of night scribbled scripts, where he off loaded the agonies of a midlife disaster, not entirely of his-own sown making, but still his to bear and bare alone... some accidents happens for unintentional, unintended intentional new seasons appear, stumbled, tumbled, fumbled his way onto this H~oly P~lace, where someone might listen to his explanations, expiations, excoriations of his all too common tragedy, and said: this broken human, he's got his reasons, read his overly long treatises, his entreaties, to those that prowl, rowing, in this corner of the silence of the internet, where only the trolls, the cold, the easier to-be-meaner oft thrive, and found none of that, but an oasis of sheltering, embracing comforting, those who actually admitted his writings could be loved, and perhaps the writer himself, was deserving of a second chance, a verbal embrace. a rereading forgiveness, a pat on his natback, a sympathetic sensory intaking, and perhaps-this debt, eternal, that put the for and the fore in a new baby born, named - new forever came into existence the very same e that begins those conjoined words ***e~ternally grateful "and now  I sleep in peace when the day is done" but the night time is still the write time
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Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 11:42 AM UTC
lest you forget, you raised me up...
to more than I can be... a sad isolated man, throes of an agonizing, stretched by her for painful revengeful gain, kissed with pointless avarice, divorce. children deeming him alienating, his faulty insensitive sensitivities, to easy blame little do they know of the piercing lowliness, the looniness of nights he listened to sad-eyed singers, and his late-of-mid of night scribbled scripts, where he off loaded the agonies of a midlife disaster, not entirely of his-own sown making, but still his to bear and bare alone... some accidents happens for unintentional, unintended intentional new seasons appear, stumbled, tumbled, fumbled his way onto this H~oly P~lace, where someone might listen to his explanations, expiations, excoriations of his all too common tragedy, and said: this broken human, he's got his reasons, read his overly long treatises, his entreaties, to those that prowl, rowing, in this corner of the silence of the internet, where only the trolls, the cold, the easier to-be-meaner oft thrive, and found none of that, but an oasis of sheltering, embracing comforting, those who actually admitted his writings could be loved, and perhaps the writer himself, was deserving of a second chance, a verbal embrace. a rereading forgiveness, a pat on his natback, a sympathetic sensory intaking, and perhaps-this debt, eternal, that put the for and the fore in a new baby born, named - new forever came into existence the very same e that begins those conjoined words ***e~ternally grateful "and now  I sleep in peace when the day is done" but the night time is still the write time
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50
What's your take on walking? My body serves my soul and tells me how to go. My heart, affixed -- aims to show. These ways I’ve walked in my shoes and stockings. I've looked to heaven’s stars, to daylit clouds, when I've stepped out, or dropped my gaze to track the ground. Yes, it is true—whoever passed me by could have taken offense and supposed I lacked my confidence. And ofttimes, I strode out straight and true as if toward a far mist horizon. Un-manifest future, even peek-a-boo, could be comprehended?  I should doubt it. And if I wished to address an occasional in-the-dumps, lost-at-sea feeling, I'd shut my eyes, and walk backwards -- owl-like, swivel 360 my head. Backwards blind circumspection seemed worthy my try; Ask--Who am I? I would story where I’d been. In my most spontaneous of nature foot-trafficking, in roulette walk; my spin of gun chamber click-- ant, spider, beetle, and the occasional sighing snail had fled my shadow shoe? As slow drift clouds in a sky game would play with the sun to hide—creatures had sought me out, sung their farewells?  (it was an excellent day to die) Let me tell it, as it had happened today, and truth says how. My feet, they had gotten to waltz-walking. O how my body and soul danced a-fancy free. Love was brimming out of me; happiness whispered her wordless name; and my tongue tripped nonsensical. So if, at last, you've kept a-pace with me in sympathetic striding, then perhaps you would surmise: there never could be a flat-footed me, when I spout off with poem-talking. Now, what’s your take on walking?
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Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Walking
What's your take on walking? My body serves my soul and tells me how to go. My heart, affixed -- aims to show. These ways I’ve walked in my shoes and stockings. I've looked to heaven’s stars, to daylit clouds, when I've stepped out, or dropped my gaze to track the ground. Yes, it is true—whoever passed me by could have taken offense and supposed I lacked my confidence. And ofttimes, I strode out straight and true as if toward a far mist horizon. Un-manifest future, even peek-a-boo, could be comprehended?  I should doubt it. And if I wished to address an occasional in-the-dumps, lost-at-sea feeling, I'd shut my eyes, and walk backwards -- owl-like, swivel 360 my head. Backwards blind circumspection seemed worthy my try; Ask--Who am I? I would story where I’d been. In my most spontaneous of nature foot-trafficking, in roulette walk; my spin of gun chamber click-- ant, spider, beetle, and the occasional sighing snail had fled my shadow shoe? As slow drift clouds in a sky game would play with the sun to hide—creatures had sought me out, sung their farewells?  (it was an excellent day to die) Let me tell it, as it had happened today, and truth says how. My feet, they had gotten to waltz-walking. O how my body and soul danced a-fancy free. Love was brimming out of me; happiness whispered her wordless name; and my tongue tripped nonsensical. So if, at last, you've kept a-pace with me in sympathetic striding, then perhaps you would surmise: there never could be a flat-footed me, when I spout off with poem-talking. Now, what’s your take on walking?
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45
The comfiest human bed warmer I ever had, My fundamental tutor of the good and the bad, The original storyteller in my bedtime tantrums, The resident photographer of my birthday albums. The accidental magician who tricked me out of my worries, A sympathetic dictator who scolds but allows my fancies, My biased talent manager who always tells me I'm the best, The loudest cheerleader who puts to shame all the rest. The world's underrated chef cooking heavenly meals, Our unpaid laundry lady worrying over water bills, The overqualified nurse never leaving her patient, Our top-notch budget analyst negotiating every payment. The random gardener, she can grow anything with ease, Our talkative historian, she stops recalling only if we say please, The uncanny philosopher, we've learned a lot from her, The lost and found administrator, tracking things hidden anywhere. The most efficient multitasker I've ever known, My trustworthy adviser who knows me down to my bones, A tough fighter who keeps winning her every battle, My life's co-creator and this world's greatest mother.
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May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 7:44 PM UTC
The Versatile Matriarch
Can I be considered a good leader if those that follow ultimately fail in my absence? Is the artist only as good as the canvas upon which she brings her creations to life? I suspect not. Therefore I am a failure as my legacy is covered in the blemishes of the fallen. Viaducts down, Rome sacked as what once was great is now nothing more than tales told by those who choose to live in the past. But I am young. Thus I return to the scene of my crime, hastily departed, left reeling, a drunk short a drink and a sympathetic ear, and I begin anew. Perhaps this time I will impart some wisdom to allow those that can to light their own path, so that this time when I depart they will stand resolute and face the coming dark with the certainty of knowledge, of awakened minds. Wish me luck.
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Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 2:34 AM UTC
Legacy
Soothing, sensational, elegant as the harp, Semblance, integument, covering of the tarp, Ebullient, vivacious, precision of the mind, Vehement, appetent, keen & one of a kind, Perfervid, chocolate katydid, desirable & luscious taste, Delectable, ambrosial, palatable & consumed with haste, Sybaritic, voluptuous, enticing to the senses, Libidinous, hedonic, enriched untightened hinges, Efficacious, puissant, robust delight to the eye, Potent, consequential, immeasurable symbol of the sky, Pulchritudinous, gorgeous, magnificent as the autumn sun, Resplendent, vivid, lustrous as a diamond-lithographed gun, Sympathetic, affectionate, condoling soul of a angel, Altruistic, benignant, warmhearted with no mangle, Serenity, tranquility, composure of divine peace, Harmonious, amicable, placid as the slow moving creek...
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Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 6:46 PM UTC
Jovial Thoughts, Genial Mind...
He appears tough, he stands tall. But truly, underneath it all, He's sympathetic, vulnerable. I can't believe myself for being so horrible. It's true that I love him, With my heart and soul. But's it's somewhat- Overwhelming. My space I feel is shifting. I can't tell if it's a good thing. I want him close, near by. However, I feel scared inside. Will he think I'm too lazy? What if in reality I appear pudgy. Sure, he says he doesn't mind. I'll just be his tubby for life. Which I kinda like, But still. These insecurities. They drown me. Very slowly, They're suffocating. Please God, is it too much to ask for? Just for once, to enjoy being loved. I want him to pick me up in an embrace! For ***** sake, can't I just, take off these weights... I've hurt him. I have nothing else to say.
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Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC
A Realization
Whilst walking down the street I heard a thunderous tweet; 'Twas a straining little bird Who couldn't pass a **** The little thing was constipated, Its **** wide dilated; Tweeting loudly in mid-bog, Trying to eject a log. I observed with sympathetic heart As it trumpeted out a **** Straining, chirping loud and long, Letting off a foul and noisome pong. I watched for nigh an hour Its display of **** power; Then a final intestinal pump Produced a huge great steaming lump: A mighty ball of faeces (a giant of its species, and total bumhole splitter which shattered its feathered *******
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Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
The Bird & the ****
dissipated and disillusioned worms eating through the last splinters of the rotting universal wood. the last transmission of regret sent electronically, spluttered, into a tissue; in a moment of self indulgent ********** live showings of vicious execution, transmitted directly from the electromagnetic waves into the alpha waves of the young and naive. Desensitization, the last drops of humanity into complete disengagement. endlessly recycled bohemian ideologies whispered into the ear of the eager idealist. spreading like fire, before burning out into the uncatchable reverie up with the stars, with all the other reveries, shining bright, intangible. Instant dismissal from the old man, as the big curtain draws. Cynicism and fragmented past, falling on apathetic eyes, a proud man treat with a padded hand. faux sympathetic tones, blushing cheeks on old bones. Begging with your body crumbling to dust with the disinterested doc, looking at the clock counting the milliseconds to the paycheck. Decomposing until you can be swept under the perpetual rug with the rest, Vacuum.
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Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
Vacuum
You can never tell when/if they’re coming will they reach/snag your sweater with their mossy claws and leave your body shaking/rigid in the darkness, and you sucking/choking your own breath. You might/never see them, you can(t) always feel their breath, sticky on your sweating neck/knees as they stalk with practice/perfection, keeping you blind/sided. Perhaps they are circling/behind but they still he(a)rd your dank mind and they can taste/fear because you taste it, acid/tar clinging to the back/tongue clutching the roof of your mouth s(l)eeping in(to) your lungs. Your sense of direction(less) lost in attempt to hang (on) tattered flesh to remind your self of time/reality? to wonder where/when you left you and whether you’ll ever walk back to your body— But this, this is yours/your mind/mindless being surreptitiously shepherded, invisible to your eyes/your intuition, which seeks/bares(t) gasps of light. Hang on to those/sustenance, gaps in the cloth of your (de)constructed mind that withers/shreds/hopes again only to find claws closing closer. Where’s your reality? Find it/they’ll get you/they’ll have you You’ll have you what’s the difference? When your mind is severed from its guy wires just as your earthquake saunters from quiver to roar and it all (col)lapses, you swallow you into cavernous depths where your calamities/
0
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
Sympathetic (Nervous System)