"tagging" poems
Events Marketing
Inform your followers on the latest update of your business. Whenever there are business engagements, such as trade show or conventions, business owners can notify their followers by uploading images on Instagram. Taking pictures and tagging subscribers in the specific location can boost visits and sales. It is important to be creative in taking pictures. Photogene and ColorSplash are the two most commonly used editing application in Instagram. In event marketing, VIP discounts can be offered to subscribers.
Contests
People are looking for excitement and rewards. Holding a contest as an activity is an exciting engagement to attract audience.
Geotagging
Instagram users can use the feature of geotagging in order to tag a specific location as to where the images were shot. For business, customers can be more familiar with the location of the business with the geotagging feature.
Remember that today, the most successful people are known to take advantage of the social media.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 5:02 AM UTC
The last kiss from you
Lasted like a huddle in
The snow blitz
Rocking my anatomy
In the frosty glitz
The last words from you
That barged in my eardrum
You were in a hurry
To smell a new leaf
Draped in a diamond dew
The last gifts from you
Was an instrument
Which still I use
To recognize people
Or to refuse!
The last time
You said I love you
I remember I was laughing
Hysterically as if I was watching
Jared Leto’s jaded mimicry of Joker in YouTube
Intriguingly, when the last time I saw you ****
It felt like pretty Ivanka’s embarrassment
Noticing her dad is a lewd
The last time I was chatting
With you on Facebook
I was wondering why
I shouldn't hack your account?
To check your inbox
Yea, it was filled with the message of *******
F- Bombs, **** shaming and tagging you as harlot
All they were asking was your service of escort
Either in full discount or in hefty cash drops!
The last time I wrote
A letter of love to you
I discovered my Keyboard
Began to blurt out
No more, No more, No more…
The last time I had a chit-chat
With you in the Burger King or Pizza Hut
I listened to your hissing clack-clack
That someone else has become your puppy cat…
The last time I became sick
When I was with you
I heard you threw a party
Where you were whispering
To your besties, how
I become your double whammy!
The last time I was
With you in the bed
I felt like I was indentured
To **** a dummy toy
Sans spirit and flesh!
Loving you was like
Santa Claus gifted me
With a Pandora’s Box
As soon as I opened it
You decided to release
Our *** tape of your having ******
In pornhub’s forum of interracial!
The last time I heard of you
Is that you were giving an interview
To The Cosmopolitan’s board of review
Facing the barrage of inquisitions
You calmly joked, the series
Of latest uproar about you
In the social media or Internet
Is because certain people always
Love to rave about Women’s body
Shoving in and out of their pigeonhole
With their one night stand queen trophy
To flavor your form in their fantasmic mouth
You also smirked in a raspy voice
Defiantly declaring “we (women)
Have been locked indoors
With no air, no food, no water”
My last boyfriend is also no exception
He certainly thinks I came this far
Through ******* and deception
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
I'm on the warpath
(On the warpath)
Not another chance, not again, no way
Never gonna let him throw my love away
If he doesn't want it then it's mine to take
If he ever tries again it'll be too late
Long gone now is my innocence
Taken by a lover in his arrogance
Thinking we were just playing fun and games
Not ever knowing I'd never be the same
Now I'm just a broken heart
Who let love tear her world apart
But I'll never let another take me in so far
Cuz I'll be the one leaving broken parts
Get the men off the streets, not a boy is safe
Walking down the road of the mistakes I've made
Scratching out eyes just to get them gone
Can't even have the nice ones tagging along
Tears over him harden like diamonds
Leave me dangerous to the touch
Never again will I see my heart mend
I always gave him much too much
I'll never let this feeling go away
Reminding myself of the chance I gave
Wishing for a love that would never be
Such a stupid girl, I could never see
Now I'm just a broken heart
Who let love tear her world apart
But I'll never let another take me in so far
Cuz I'll be the one leaving broken parts
I'm just a broken heart
Who let love tear her world apart
But I'll never let another take me in so far
Cuz I'll be the one leaving broken parts
I'll be the one leaving broken parts
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 4:42 PM UTC
For real, keep it on loop
I dig it a lot, like mama’s corn soup
You feelin’ me, hearing that tune
Or maybe I’m in the wrong room
Get up on it, know what I mean
Jammin’ on hot scones with cream
This song needs to tell our life stories
We all have battles forever in our lives
When you hear the sound of pop pop, oh no
Kids gettin’ shot for a pair of shoes in Chicago
Tough neighbourhood street
Corrupt badges on the beat
Planting dope, selling candy at the corner shop
Writing songs, tagging everywhere, if you dare
Doin’ time, enter from behind, I never, I swear
Come out on parole, new king on throne, lost all control
If I had my time again, I’d save a lot more, forget ‘bout toys
Look over my shoulders, stick to the plan, escape from the boys
They aren’t speakin’ our language
Let’s get the hell outta there, somewhere tranquil
Day by day, lets see if we can crack the code
Try placing ones thoughts in a brand new abode
For better or worse, it’s up to you, not your corner crew
We grew up thinking we had to listen, who knew
Step outside the hood, look around, don’t be shy
Then buy a one-way Greyhound ticket, say bye bye
At the start it might feel hard, but give it a chance
You’ll be surprised what you find, just take that first glance
Tough neighbourhood street
Corrupt badges on the beat
Planting dope, selling candy at the corner shop
Writing songs, tagging everywhere, if you dare
Doin’ time, enter from behind, I never, I swear
Come out on parole, new king on throne, lost all control
If I had my time again, I’d save a lot more, forget ‘bout toys
Look over my shoulders, stick to the plan, escape from the boys
Nov 22, 2020
Nov 22, 2020 at 7:14 AM UTC
I hate it.
I hate that we're a generation
that's caught up with our devices.
Eyes on the screen,
incase you miss out.
Keep scrolling,
incase you miss out.
Keep tagging,
incase you miss out.
Keep tweeting,
incase you miss out.
Keep posting,
incase you miss out.
Yet,
here I am.
In front of a laptop.
Making sure I don't miss out--
about writing about missing out.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 1:44 AM UTC
How can one express their heart
when words are not enough,
how can I even dream to start
when my tongue finds it so tough.
Let me try...
You are the graffitti
tagging
me as yours
you are the scent
of stale beer
in late night smokey bars
you are the
pain of paper cut
where lemon juice seeped in
and the bitter
taste of sugar
replaced by sacherin
you are the days
felt wasted
and night times thrown away
and the silence
found in laughter
just to keep the tears at bay
you are my anger
my sorrow
and my pain
and given
my time over
we would do it all again.
These are not insults
these are the depths of my heart.
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 8:39 AM UTC
now that territory outweighs tolerance,
we all just march in search of conquest,
for it is this that we were born to do.
no one questions this so called 'truth,'
we just read outdated books and call them proof.
for the right to destroy, we'll accept any view.
give me this and give me that
and put the rest up on a rack
on the off chance i run out of things to consume.
we're getting bloated and overfed
but that still doesn't leave any time to rest
because this isn't enough, and i need a bigger room.
so i'll just take yours and when i'm done, i'll take his,
and what i can't take, i'll drown in my **** . . .
no matter what, it will all be marked as mine.
and when the devil takes us up to show what we could have,
we'll say, 'we fooled you! we took all we could nab.
you've got nothing to offer us, so get in the ******* line,
like everyone else we've got tagging along,
weeping and praying, singing spiritual songs,
and waiting for us to throw them a bone.'
because everyone knows territory outweighs tolerance . . .
it's easy to believe if you have no conscience,
and you're willing to spend your life in your mind, alone.
so that's what we do: march about and consume
and destroy and defile and declare it as truth,
and ignore anything that points to something else.
because where ever we go there is never peace,
we just breed violence like a ******* disease
and pretend there is no such thing as a Self.
because like mitochondria, we're ensuring growth
and what's it to us if we leave dashed hopes
trailing behind in our wake?
get in the line, or lay down and die,
but whatever was yours now is called mine,
and i'm already looking for something else to take.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
Wrinkles on my brain.
They suppress the screams
of the lucid echo, that is tagging along me.
Tap.
Smoke.
Weeping.
I woke up and found myself sleeping still.
I heard my friends' laughing drill.
I felt my sweat leaking through the sorrow.
Tap.
Smoke.
Scream.
Now, it was too late -
My dreams were far gone already.
I was behind the horizon. Tragedy.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 3:35 AM UTC
I can’t help but wonder if we have crossed paths
Over and over again, tangling each hello
Catching a hint of mischief when we first bumped into each other
And how easy it was for us to slip into
Conversations, plotting to take on the world
But first things first, we have to catch the moon
And hold the stars ransom in our back pockets
I swear we were pirates singing sea shanties
And conquering cities, but now we settle
For late night dance parties, and one shot, two shot, three
And sure, we are invincible, and I can’t help but wonder
If we have crossed paths over and over again
Our stories layering, life long friends
Or maybe arch nemeses, and each time
Tagging out a new adventure
Where we are chasing after each other
I swear we were renegades, young rebels
Questioning authority and pushing boundaries
Now, we collaborate artistically
Broadcasting in a world of social media, one shout, two shout, three
And sure, we are strong, and I can’t help but wonder
If we have crossed paths over and over again
Our history repeating, kindred spirits
Or maybe pieces of the same soul, and each time
We meet, we find a part of ourselves
We had forgotten
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 1:29 AM UTC
We love to chase the wind through streaks of blinding bliss,
Tagging the glorious ideals of love, peace, friendship, even
The meaning of life, to weeping willows and pensive pebbles.
We admire the monochrome sky in all its barren blue or pregnant purple;
Hues of burple and plue are dismissed as being tedious, or just confused.
Fear not, photoshop will rectify this pigmented aberration.
We giggle at clouds that resemble kitchen utensils or mystical creatures;
“Hey look a teddy bear in a spacesuit with a flowerpot on his head wielding the Sword of Gryffindor!”
We declare sagely, with the acumen of a legendary bird watcher.
We resurrect grass angels by launching into horizontal jumping-jacks, and,
Just as a disclaimer, no flower was harmed in the process. Not that it matters,
As long as we did not soil our Lacoste and Burberry.
We spin a mixtape out of the torrential downpour, our tracks pitting
The pitter of regularity against the patter of inconstancy, synchronizing
The symphony of splashes to an undercurrent of nostalgia.
We kiss against the bark of an elm, and if a tree is not available in the vicinity,
We throw ourselves down a nearby hill, tumbling into a ball of moist romance,
Panting, as we bask in the studio lighting of the approving sun.
Every still is captured by a Lomo,
Every scene arrested in sepia motion,
Every moment ravished by the chichi Bohemian in us.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 4:03 PM UTC
Byron and I play
The All Topics Open.
Eighteen holes
Invariably draws nostalgic.
Byron mentioned he went to the WWF in Detroit.
I sliced into a childhood memory
Of midgets at Cobo Hall:
Cobo Hall, Saturday Night. Be there!
Byron started pitching old wrestlers and holds:
Leaping Larry Shane, great with the Anaconda Vice;
Killer Kowalski vs. Bobo Brazil, pinned by the Crucifix and Abdominal Stretch;
**** the Bruiser* tagging with The Sheik
To defeat Gorgeous George and Crybaby McCarthy.
Byron went on in detail, with tabernacle authority:
“It was a Bear Hug that quickly swung in to a Quarter,
then Half,
then Full Nelson;
Crybaby bounced off a knee,
Was driven to the mat and pinned
By a Front Sleeper.”
(Jimmy's newborn picture faded in,
and the pose he naturally struck
baby arms
cocked like a sideshow muscle man
Daddy quipped: **** the Bruiser*.
I was Leaping Larry Shane.
Daddy quipped: Larry the Stooge.
I didn't see that move)
Byron was intense. I could hear, but
I was zoning.
Crybaby and Front Sleeper dazed me.
How time Venns.
I was pinned today.
I recognized the feeling.
Tagged, then pinned by
The inescapable
Baby Nelson.
You know the hold.
On your back.
Baby on chest, face down.
Pinned.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
Gaze upon your sleeping figure
Wonder where I went wrong
How can I love you so deeply
If in your arms I don't belong?
How come goosebumps rise
When I hear or think of your name
Yet with your face inches away from mine
Our love just doesn't feel the same?
How can my eyes look and see
Perfection from bottom to top
But feel magnetic attraction fading
Powerless to make it stop?
How can I rely on you for such
An enormous portion of my happiness
If every token of generosity
Makes me worth less and less?
How is every sincere compliment able
To spill from your mouth true and clear
When we are both aware you deserve better?
I don't match the adjectives poured in my ear.
How did our easy conversation
Turn to spontaneous spiteful fight?
Understanding somehow replaced with animosity
At least we still share words late into the night.
How can I be chilled by a trace of fear
Tagging along with excitement up my spine?
How is darkness tainting all we know
Yet one touch from you and I'm fine?
How am I able to hate part of you
While loving the rest with all my heart?
How am I distant when you are around
Then miss you very much when we're apart?
How can my brain worship your image
After the extensive damage you've done?
If you cause me to to feel my absolute lowest
How could I still believe you are the one?
Lay beside your body wishing
To be close like we were before
How can I yearn so strongly for your embrace
If we don't feel right anymore?
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
it was suggested
that there be no nexus
between texas and your pal-
omino - tagging the alamo, **
en el barrio, yo(u)-
and your gringa homecoming
queen in tight-assed jeans
-running with ms-13?
-playing twister with your hipster
sisters misters smith & wesson
oiled up and and ready to go
- new mexico?
i found you in tres piedras
at a place called ortega's
eating huevos rancheros
- shooting jose cuervo?
-muthafucka mara salvatruchas
in a red camaro and two bruthas
on a burro with bow and arrows
-stole your palomino?
*-they shoot horses
don't they?*
riding the black el camino
-on the blue mesa.
r ~ 9/30/14
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
Is it just me?
Or do people not notice
Going to a crowded place
Different aromas wafting,
Emanating around you
They just ignore the sights
Painting their own pictures,
Telling their own stories
Colors invading your personal space
Encompassing you
With a foreign feeling
That creates its own thoughts
In your mind, sprouting
Like trees at the park
Pine needles softly tumbling onto your arms
Tickling each one as it flies away
From its home in the trees
Like a baby bird
Just old enough
For mommy to think he's independent
And there he goes, coasting downward
Until he haphazardly brings himself up
Not a foot from your face
And for a second
Those flapping wings
Sweep up pollen into your nose
Before it jets away
Where? The sky's the limit
But he'll go somewhere populated
Maybe someplace he can fly
Fly like a plane in an airport
Disgruntled passengers hustling
To their respective flights
To go on vacation,
Make it to a meeting, among a plethora of things
Their eyes on the screen of their iphone more than the world around them
All of them, ignorant to their environment
Almost as if they've never seen it before
Like the baby bird that was in front of your face
But how did you see those wings
But those thousands of people didnt
It's because they were too busy tagging
That tweet that wasn't finished
So don't ever feel like just walking
And watching birds
Means you're not doing what you should do
Because those people sitting in the airport
Are missing so much more than you
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
?????????
Time is not flying
the evening hours are so slow, inching by
and spent tossing and turning
my restless mind roams dark avenues
my restless feet roam the bed,
left...right...then back, over and over.
the bed, that was my hammock....no longer sways
a promise of peaceful slumber, flies away,
???????
new and strange images
start to trail me...they're heavy tassels,
tagging on the hemlines of my mind,
seeking to connect...to be known
???????
this late hour, i recall
a forked road, not far from a winding road,
from afar, a child admires a white castle
high as the clouds, its windows, foggy,
its high fence, mossy...on its front lawn
is a treehouse, perched...resting like a bird
inside a very old tree, leaning to its left side,
with a long set of steps...all painted white.
just below the white steps are gathered,
doyens of poetry...seated in their own chosen
corners...tacit, yet, empowered by their brilliant minds
the tips of their feathered pens, smoothly sliding on
paper......strange, that they're waving at me,
why, they could be dead!
???????
i must be dreaming...my muse is showing
me paths, i would think twice of treading
???????
a quartered moon selfishly glows
unsettles even more, my murky thoughts...
yet....my pressing thumb is on my journals
i must heed.........the need.
???????
"o' my elusive unknown poem,
kindly show me...lead me to your home
let my pen give light to your dim path
give second wind to my weary mind and heart,
deny, even a bit of a space......for wrath,
help me, push me...my efforts musn't cease
show me your face...we'll both have peace."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
~
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 2:32 AM UTC
**** you
It sounds so bitter coming from a mothers mouth
If I have a daughter I will only tell her sweet nothings about how wonderful she is, how beautiful she is and I will never spew the profanities that you've shouted at me because I want her confidence to be as high as the skyscrapers that just skim the clouds so she knows that nothing is the limit
Darling, I will tell her, if someone thinks you're too big for them then they obviously don't have the equipment for the job anyway instead of tagging along on a shopping spree where the only thing I tell her is how that top brings out her belly rolls and how that skirt shows her love handles, I will handle her with all the love I have
I will promise her that I will never say I told you so especially when her first love cheats on her and she comes to me in tears wanting nothing but a hug, I will supply the chocolates, the rom-coms and teach her that the only men you need in life are Ben & Jerry
If I have a daughter, I will never compare her to her brother, I will never brag about only one of them to people I meet on the street, I will never tell her that she should be more like him because he's perfect at everything she's not without even trying...I will tell her she's good at everything I will say she's the best at having the worst coordination, like her mother, I will tell her she's the best at being who she is, I will tell her she is the best at stealing my heart away every time I look at her
So thank you Mom...for teaching me what not to do, for showing me how to break down your daughters confidence, thank you for teaching me what a hypocrite is, thank you for all the 'I told you sos' and thank you...for teaching me how to be a mother
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
Dear Jesus, thank you for
bringing me back to your fold
Thank you for your mercy and your love untold
I felt so lonely, and far, far away;
I didn't know how I would make it day to day
My hopes and my dreams had actually disappeared,
But then you healed my heart and my soul cheered
Deep down I knew that you would never, ever leave me,
Because you promised to be with me and accept me gladly
It was like a veil lifted from my face
It was like my depression had left no trace
My soul felt light and free as the wind
As free as if there had been no sin
I felt your presence ever near my heart
Even though I didn't acknowledge it from the start
I heard a small, still voice sweetly saying
Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start praying,
Help me Jesus to have
unswerving faith and love
Help me to realize that my help comes from above
Help me to be willing, strong, faithful & true
Help me give you the glory, in everything I do
Help me to be a living witness of your power & grace
Help me Jesus to finally win this seemingly impossible race
Help me to always lean on your firm and loving breast
Help me to trust you when I'm put to the test
Thanks, precious Jesus for opening your arms
Thanks, precious Jesus for tagging along
Thanks Jesus for fulfilling my wildest hopes & dreams
Thanks for letting me feel your most merciful, holy beams
You are truly the most wonderful, loving friend
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 5:23 PM UTC
You make me worry about losing my memory.
Because right now I've reached a stage where I've forgotten to forget you,
so if I really did lose my memory I wouldn't just be losing my identity,
but also you.
And the problem is, I can live without knowing myself,
but wouldn't survive a second without knowing you.
You make me want to write poems.
My fingers crave to type endlessly until I've written more words than
the bible and the encyclopaedias A-Z combined into infinity,
but my brain numbs.
I'm bilingual but thinking of you makes me inarticulate in both, and
fluent in clichés instead.
You make me feel like a 16 year old...scrap that, a 14 year old,
falling in love for the first time, and I'm neither.
Lately I've been spending a lifetime editing photos of you and me,
on Microsoft Paint, adding hearts and stars and lipstick marks.
And tagging you in every quote, video, song and photo on facebook,
provided they have a remote connection to something romantic.
You make me want to break Pastor Aeternus ,
after 12 years of Sunday school, as a student and a teacher.
I want to travel between Testaments, arguing with prophets and saints,
trying to explain how you make me feel, crave, arouse.
Because each time we meet, even before we speak, or touch,
the demon within me is awaken, beholding the paradise in your eyes.
You make me want to ****** you, even after 4 months,
and 3 weeks, of a solid relationship.
To wear make-up and high heels, to dress up or down or... not,
provoking, tempting and coaxing to take a bite out of the same apple,
but deeper, tying you to the bed and taking you in a kitchen, just
to see that pure expression of bliss on your face.
You make me search the depth of my soul, the bottom of my heart and
every corner of my mind, for more love to give you, everyday.
Paint the future in any colour, shape or form, and when you're done,
place me in it, because I will always fit right in, just like when we spoon.
Someday, when we're standing next to God I will ask him to show you
the timeline, when he sent you from heaven into my life, because
only an Angel could make this fragile heart, fall in love again.
Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 9:05 PM UTC
Car rides, blowing smoke, ignorance is bliss, so is smoking dope.
Keep watch, tuck below. Take a **** you said you'd be right back and i'm still holding this **** in since we last spoke.
City lights, plane flights. Breathe some air, keep chill.
Take a chill pill just relax, keep still here's some lax.
This town overdosed, kids missing found dead. Vision blurry, getting red.
Pay attention to the Feds.
Their just fiends, they're not your friends.
This life I know
This life I was drug into
Gotta watch yourself, gotta watch your back.
They do it for the high, they do it for the cash.
Quick to getting your cards stolen for a free stash.
Steady steady, think outside the box.
They will yank you, yes they're called the cops.
Take it easy. Do what they say.
Or you'll be in handcuffs, wishing you were praying.
Prison is where the dogs go. Jail is where the ****** go.
Guns in the Trunk, gloves on my hands.
Leave no evidence, I'm not punk.
Those around you, will impact your reputation,
Those around you may impact your temptation.
Bring my bag, bring a change of clothes.
Put these on, you're tagging along.
The faces and cases of all the **** and it's users.
You might run into one while with your folks.
Or you might be running from your family to find a ****
Don't poke, edits aren't good.
Easy to catch a case,
hard to come up on a empty parking space
It will remain forever, never let you free
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 3:14 AM UTC
. revolution?!
what revolution?!
i can't see a guillotine!
****
hey! guys! there's no guillotine!
there's no talk
of a revolution
when there's no guillotine...
your talk of, a, "revolution"
would make Marquis de Sade
cringe,
and shout down a toilet
than out of window
of the Bastille..
this isn't a revolution,
it's on;ly 2018....
you have to wait!
why are tthe people so slothful,
yet at the same time,
eager, to work?
we're looking at "changes"
come 2045...
the year...
that apparently stabilized
the 2th0 century for
20 / 30 / 40 / 5...
no...
let's keep it with
sucker-punch Billy...
i love being a drunk...
makes all the sober
people look...
******* stupid;
and i don't even mean that....
it's just a military
fatigue...
it akin to:
coulrophobia...
yeah... big time... women making
excursions
for fatigued wool and silk
dresses...
one question does the job...
*honey, can i play the clown
at our honey- berry's birthday
party?*
do women go into
mascara parlors,
window shopping,
with a man tagging along?
honey...
do you really need me to tag along
while you shop for
make-up chemical
parade of tested adherents
for your beauty of your
expectation of fur...
Mike and Moany - the gerbils...
i thought you liked them?
no...
i can do the sheered
woolen artifacts...
when it comes to spreading
lipstick on frogs
and testing their
pyrotechnic susceptibility potential...
watching the Mike Myers' twins...
no... really...
count me out of
the necessity to make
an argument for a race...
i'm out...
done...
i never liked the English
existentialist argument to begin with...
too individualistic,
too finite...
too much of:
enjoying a hell
of a good time...
it's a simple economic logic
focus...
what you're selling?
i'm not buying.
it's that simple!
i don't have to buy what you're
selling!
stand with it all stacked up...
i'm not buying!
somehow i think
the English intellectuals
forgot the basic principles...
i'm, not, buying!
savvy?
god... ugh...
i know the French are bad...
about their oversee of diacritical
application,
and how they make no
sense when syllables
come into play...
and the Germans... yeah yeah...
i get their scrutiny of
method and dedication...
their teutonic charge within
the confines of ******** screws
into place...
but i'm still not seeing
an clearer...
there's talk of a revolution
in the English tongue...
so...
where's the guillotine?!
oh...
so...
what revolution?!
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
*pretty ****** out
gimme a **** *** already
lemme take a deep drag
always such a freakin’ lagger
yeah, it’s all a total drag*
bright rags on you, stupid hag
silly tags stick on dense brag
eternally gagging on mind-vomit
get endless nagging from the sun
spirit sagging beyond belief
no more tail-wagging for the circus
or dragging on unwanted cacophony
or ******* zigzagging stray bullets
*nearly time for tagging
place trash in black bag*
S T, Fried-day 12 July 2013
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 6:12 AM UTC
I want to go on a journey.
A splendid adventure.
In search of lost love
That could have been
But never was.
I want to wander every inch of you.
Writing love letters across your back and chest
With my tongue.
Tagging your neck, arms and thighs
With lingering kisses.
I want to travel to southern regions.
Exploring new pathways to heaven.
Unraveling the concepts of time.
Bringing past to present; present to future
Making you mine.
I want to board a shuttle with you.
Launching us beyond this world.
Suspended among the moon and stars
Bringing the entire universe to halt
At the very moment
you yell out
my name.
©Tina Thompson
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
Leaving those trusting eyes—
was indeed the cruelest act I have
ever partaken in.
Tagging along after numerous hugs,
These kids claimed that white bus—titling it as
mortal enemy. Now this nonliving
object was my ultimately my enemy.
Silently they wept, I wrap
my arms around her, I gave
everything I had to offer.
Hope
Washing over the diluted curvatures of
my face, my mind began to spin out of control.
Then his youthful face hit the floor like a bag
of unwanted rocks—Pain severed my core.
Every motherly instinct I possessed now
Stood,
perched in
tip-toed fashion.
Stunning those hopeful faces,
I turned my back—
like everyone else who had come
before me.
Sliding into the bus seat one final time,
my numbness took over—aching
taking refuge on a limb.
Had I held them back from their victory?
Or had I helped them pursue it?
Transforming, I will never be
the same. Will I go back for those
kids?
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
I am getting dragged
behind you
Just like a rope
Lifeless, hopeless.
The diversion you take,
Me too turn behind,
Dumb, subconscious..
Identityless.
Your destination is in your thoughts,
I just walk behind you,
You walk to achieve something,
I walk behind questioneless..
Or
Is not my destination
my determination..YOU?
Do you realize
I walk behind you?
Can you hear my footsteps..
Dragging with a hush??
But
Why am I
Asking you all this?
Was walking behind you not my own decision?
You are moving for your own resting place,
I was anyways never the whole final destination for you...
Then why should my ubiety in your 'moving life' should have any mention??
I have made you my destiny by choice,
Then
Should my life have any other diversion than yours..??
-------------
**
Life partner - 2 (Reply)
**
I could feel you getting dragged behind me,
Your presence completes my existence,
You are walking behind with held breaths,
I move ahead counting your breaths..
I am moving with a great speed,
To wait and rest for few seconds is impossible..
I could hear your heavy weezing,
But to slow down is impossible..
You speak the truth,
You walk behind making me your destiny,
And so I walk on the good road till today,
Thorns will come surely in my path in future,
But I am trying to take bit longer but smooth roads..
Neither animosity nor complains you have for me,
Neither questions nor answers I have for you,
Our life will pass harmoniously this way..
Me ahead and you behind tagging along.
Hold me well with power of your determination,
Give me courage by your silent smiles,
Keep your faith on me always,
You will be given credit for my journey of success,
Hold me strongly on the ground after the success..!!
Sparkle In Wisdom
11/8/2018
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
Living in a city where the trees have names
And blank walls and bus stop benches
Have a language of their own,
I wonder who I am
And wonder who will read the lines I pen
And if I'm writing in an unknown tongue.
Wandering among the spray paint
proclamations
That declare existence
And 'my gang can beat up your gang'
I try to fathom the kind of emptiness
That only tagging can implete,
But I was never, at my worst, so hollow
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 11:21 AM UTC