"teh" poems
Senja djakarta enam belas januari dua ribu lima belas . di hadapan leptop , aku merangkai kata demi kata untuk menghasilkan sebuah karya yang indah . ku tatapi sekelilingku ... benda mati , sepi, lengang ... andai printer yang disampingku itu berbicara... gunting itu berkata, dan pulpen ini berteriak , akan aku ceritakan sebuah kisah klasik ini di hadapan benda-benda itu . entah apa yang aku rasakan saat ini . abstark sepertinya . aku pernah berangan-angan menikmati teh rosela bersama bapakku didalam dekapan senja hangat mengantarkan mentari itu pulang , dalam dekapan . bapak yang aku rindukan kasih sayangnya melebihi apapun di dunia ini . Maafkan aku mama, aku tidak pernah serindu ini kepada bapakku . tapi percayalah , kedudukanmu dihatiku selalu ku prioritaskan bak malaikat yang selalu menjagaku setiap hari . Mama... bisakah engkau wakilkan rasa ini kepada bapakku , bahwa aku ingin mencium tangannya . kemudian ia tersenyum merasakan hangat cinta anakknya .
rasa apa yg lebih berarti daripada menahan rindu ini , menahan rindu akan sosok bapakku yang genap 8 tahun sudah tidak pernah menyapaku lagi . aku tidak ingin mengingatnya dengan kenangan buruk , tetapi aku akan mencoba menguburnya ,dan ini lah saatnya aku menjadi pribadi yang berubah .
bapak, tahukah engkau pak , aku sudah beranjak dewasa, dr dewasa itu aku menemukan siapa diriku sebenarnya . sadar bahwa aku bukanllah apa-apa tanpamu pak . sadara bahwa aku di dunia ini karena mu dan ibu . maafkan aku yang tidak pernah mendegarkanmu .
Senja ... saksikanlah bahwa aku ingin sekali bapak duduk di pelaminan bersama ibu , dan aku berada tepat di bawah kakiknya . sembah sungkem merestui pernikahanku bersama pria yang dikirimkan ALLAH untukku .
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 6:09 AM UTC
* "Our cattle graze, the wind breathes." -Garcilaso *
It was my ancient voice
ignorant of thick bitter juices.
I sense it lapping my feet
beneath the fragile wet ferns.
Ay, ancient voice of my love,
ay, voice of my truth,
ay, voice of my open flank,
when all the roses flowed from my tongue
and grass knew nothing of horses' impassive teeth!
Here are you drinking my blood,
drinking my tedious childhood mood,
while in the wind my eyes are bludgeoned
by aluminum and drunken voices.
Let me pass the gates
where Eve eats ants
and Adam seeds dazzled fish.
Let me return, manikins with horns,
to the grove where I stretch
and leap with joy.
I know a rite so secret
it requires an old rusty pin
and I know the horror of open eyes
on a plate's concrete surface.
But I want neither world nor dream, nor divine voice,
I want my freedom, my human love
in the darkest corner of breeze that no oen wants.
My human love!
Those hounds of the sea chase each other
and the wind spies on careless tree trunks.
Oh ancient voice, burn with your tongue
this voice of tin and talc!
I long to weep because I want to,
as the children cry in the last row,
because I'm not man, nor poet, nor leaf,
but only a wounded pulse circling the things of the other side
I want to cry out speaking my name,
rose, child and fir-tree beside this lake,
to speak my truth as a man of blood
slay in myself teh tricks and turns of the word.
No, no. I'm not asking, I, desire,
voice, my freedom that laps my hands.
In the labyrinth of screens it's my nakedness receives
the moon of punishment and the ash-drowned clock.
Thus I was speaking.
Thus I was speaking with Saturn stopped the trains,
when the fod and Dream and Death were seeking me.
Seeking me
where the cows, with tiny pages' feet, bellow
and where my body floats between opposing fulcrums.
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"Dunia ini terlalu indah untuk dilukis, Sayang,"
Begitu katanya
"Dunia ini juga terlalu luas untuk dipahami, Sayang,"
Begitu pula katanya
Aku tetap tak mengerti
Mengapa masih ada orang yang merasa dunia ini
Terlalu sempit untuk diketahui
Terlalu sulit untuk dijelajahi
Apakah jendela cakrawala mereka saja yang sempit?
Atau nyali mereka saja yang tak bisa berdiri sendiri?
Hanya berani menguntit ditemani mata menyipit?
Barangkali pikiran mereka juga hanya bisa mengintip?
"Dunia ini dipenuhi orang aneh, Sayangku,"
Ujarnya kemudian
Secangkir teh diteguknya perlahan
"Dunia ini juga dipenuhi orang berotak kosong, kamu tahu itu,"
Kukatakan dalam hati bahwa aku tahu
Tentu saja kami berdua tahu
Bumi ini dihuni benak-benak yang melayang liar di balik masing-masing bahu
Yang tak bisa diam walau hanya menunggu waktu
Menunggu pikiran gila lainnya merayap masuk ke dalam kepalanya
Membuat secarik kertas dan sebuah pulpen meleleh di tangannya
Melantunkan kalimat-kalimat indah menjadi sebuah sajak
Menyulapnya menjadi sebuah mahakarya yang terus menanjak
Kukatakan sekali lagi dalam hati bahwa aku tahu
Tentu saja kami berdua tahu
Bumi ini juga dihuni benak-benak licik yang tak punya dinding malu
Yang meraup beribu untung tak kenal waktu
Diam-diam aku bertanya juga
Di manakah jiwa-jiwa kotor itu bisa membeli dinding malu?
Mengapa mentalnya tak beda jauh dengan mental para benalu?
Orang-orang aneh itu masih terus menunggu waktu
Orang-orang berotak kosong itu malah berlari meninggalkan waktu
Orang-orang aneh itu terus menciptakan karya
Orang-orang berotak kosong itu malah dibicarakan di berita pagi dan dunia maya
Orang-orang aneh itu terus menumbuhkan bunga di atas nama bangsa
Orang-orang berotak kosong itu malah menumbuhkan duri di bawah nama bangsa
Seperti yang saat ini banyak terjadi,
Seniman dan Koruptor.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 2:37 AM UTC
In Vienna there are ten little girls,
a shoulder for death to cry on,
and a forest of dried pigeons.
There is a fragment of tomorrow
in the museum of winter frost.
There is a thousand-windowed dance hall.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this close-mouthed waltz.
Little waltz, little waltz, little waltz,
of itself of death, and of brandy
that dips its tail in the sea.
I love you, I love you, I love you,
with the armchair and the book of death,
down the melancholy hallway,
in the iris' darkened garret.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this broken-waisted waltz.
In Vienna there are four mirrors
in which your mouth and the echoes play.
There is a death for piano
that paints little boys blue.
There are beggars on the roof.
There are fresh garlands of tears.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this waltz that dies in my arms.
Because I love you, I love you, my love,
in the attic wherethe children play,
dreaming ancient lights of Hungary
through the noise, the balmy afternoon,
seeing sheep and irises of snow
through teh dark silence of your forehead.
Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this "I will always love you" waltz.
In Vienna I will dance with you
in a costume with
a river's head.
See how the hyacinths line my banks!
I will leave my mouth between your legs,
my soul in photographs and lilies,
and in the dark wake of your footsteps,
my love, my love, I will have to leave
violin and grave, the waltzing ribbons.
3.5k
sore itu dingin.
kupandangi tetes-tetes air yang perlahan hinggap di atas permukaan kaca jendela
secangkir teh dalam genggaman, berbalut tabahnya menahan rindu.
kutunggu kabar
namun tak juga kunjung datang
duduk di atas kursi teras, menanti suaramu hadir di ujung pesawat.
teleponku lagi-lagi kau abaikan, seperti tak pernah sekalipun terlintas minat untuk kau angkat.
terlalu sibuk atau apa?
biar kunanti lagi bersama rintik hujan.
semenit
lima menit
sepuluh menit
dua puluh menit
lima puluh menit
kutunggu telepon balasanmu
namun belum juga kau
izinkan aku mendengar suaramu
aku diam
bersama alunan musik yang dimainkan hujan, air mataku turun
biarkan!
aku letih
berpura-pura merasa tidak sakit hati
bersama lantunan rintik hujan, serta guntur yang belum pula lelah bersahutan, pada dunia mereka seolah mengatakan; alam pun bisa menyuarakan air matanya, dan memiliki jeda jujur yang panjang, berhenti berusaha ceria.
kemudian aku sadar;
seperti alam yang sedang menangis, aku benar-benar letih berpura-pura.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC
I know that my profile will be serene
in the nroth of an unreflecting sky.
Mercury of vigil, chaste mirror
to break the pulse of my style.
For if ivy and the cool of linen
are the norm of the body I leave behind,
my profile in the sand will be the old
unblushing silence of a crocodile.
And though my tongue of frozen doves
will never taste of flame,
only of empty broom.
I'll be a free sign of oppressed norms
on the neck of the stiff branch
and in teh ache of dahlias without end.
2.8k
I wanna kiss it
but its so hard
not sure how to bring it against my lips
and then my fingers up and slip
So soft
the place you make between my shoulders as they stand
the truth in your presence
the defautl in your eyes
unlike the lovely demise
in the powerful
but full of histories of deciet and self succumed lies
in a cloud on a pillar high
this is where I thought I might die
but death isnt the only escape
when beauty surrounds you from your mistakes
filters in through your insides
it leads you to a moutain top so high
the snow fall cleans you of your ***** hide
kiss you touch ouy
never call you mine
because I know better
not to contain higher things
clip thier wings
I gave my heart, I gve my soul
to the wronged of those
may I rest by your side
my ribcage exposed
to the love you know
from my touch
from my gental spirit
the light from behind my eyes
that reaches and finally does it touch
you heal me inside
you slip your sweet medicine between my lips
you swindle your breateh of life
I dont fight you with my hips
into my worried eyes
I fear not
not any more
so long as you are here
I can let go of this rope
lay your worried bones next to mine
and I'll do my very best to buy us this time
may the clock stop
as it does for the dead
because we are heaven lieing in your bed
kiss me once
kiss me twice
and I'll kiss you thrice
my worries drop as does this plunder
my thoughts roll from us like defeated thunder
I hold you whole
I hold you tight
I give you the same freedom, I give you the same rights
I heard you speak
of whats in your head
I'm smilling for the things you dont know that of which you said
fumbling in your sleep
you craddle my crown
as I dose myself in the sweet silent sound
I am fawn white
I am pure irridescent light
cloaked in darkness
hidden from sight
so that the goodness might prevail
even during teh trials of night
You, with orbs in your antlers
with moons on your tongue
you dont chase me
I realize I mustnt run
The power with in you
sends me still
even so, I am reeled
for the dangers I've met
for the dreams
I stir
I feel the safety in this allure
you sparkle in my eyes
from inside you
I see us side by side
standing tall
for authority we call
together we are safe
and with tired eyes
I will keep you warm and safe
to any and all expendeture
we are fair
a deiety in of itself
we are desired for being rare
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 7:01 AM UTC
Smiles that don't quite rise to eyes
Awkward chatter and white lies
Drab, plaster walls, and stained floors
Take a breath and sip some more
Lower walls and break the locks,
With fewer glances at the clock
Easy laughter and empty cups
Find a way to fill me up.
The bitter rind turns sweet with time
When empty glasses clink like chimes
The warmth of friends helps me unwind
The warmth of poison keeps me blind
Eyes that don't quite rise to smiles
But people love this guise of style
Play it smooth with refined class
Tell everyone about her fine ***
Oh, this nihgt will never end
Oh, the joys of plentyy friends
Teh best of times, never forget
The
way
that
the
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 7:26 PM UTC
A dream I wish it was,
when the hounds of hell
were unleashed upon my family.
A dream I wish it was,
when teh aftermath caused
me to weep day in and day out,
wishing it was only a figment of
my hell - filled imagination
A dream I wish it was... ... ...
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
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Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
hello veil over a trench coat, i’ve come here to recite a few breaths and hopefully get you to take those sunglasses off (for my pride’s sake). just drop them around your ankles like your most comfortable pair of undergarments, kick them onto the beige bedroom rug and make me feel like a day early welfare check in a bread line full of starvation. slide me a napkin with a phone number from across the church pew. smoke my mind like a cigarette in the recovery ward waiting room. i bet you could slap the what teh **** off my face as swiftly as the day is long,
and it’s long.
and as teh world economy comes to a screeching halt and married men jump out of windows because money is some sort of commodity i will never truly truly truly understand, crying babies and ****** good womens remind me of you. grandmothers and the aunt everyone loves to hear drunk at christmas is your smile. your scent isn’t like my ****** relatives. that would be gross. and luxury automobiles and the adromeda galaxies in one corner of the paint job you happened to look a little too closely at is just a speck of your complexity misdialed like a phone number in a crosseye white pages disaster-
say i was to rush to this decision.
say i bent, hands on knees, puffing.
say joe camel between my pointer and middle finger kept both of them occupied for once
say i was running up to tell you that i don’t know you
but i think i should
i should
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
Ditarik, kami diarahkan membaca apapun yang tidak ada penjelasannya.
Dikodratkan harus paham isi kepala makhluk yang hanya sesekali berkata iya dan tidak.
Kami terpingkal, Puan.
Bagaimana tidak?; Kain yang kau gunting sendiri dan pintal dengan rajut sedari subuh sudah cantik--tapi kau merasa kurang, dan kami adalah penyebabnya katamu.
Duduk kami melingkar bersama dengan gelas gelas berisi teh melati,
Hangat membaur aroma kebingungan kaum kami.
Sekali beberapa menit kami terpingkal lagi, berusaha terus membaca setiap halaman kosong dan beberapa titik saja di sudut kiri kanannya.
Tidak ada barang satupun buku yang mengerti keinginan puan.
Cemasnya puan ingin dilindungi,
Lembutnya puan yang ingin dikasihi,
Ah, apalagi tangisan yang tiba-tiba terisak di malam sehabis mimpi.
Tersenyum kami menahan tawa dan kantuk, sembari melihat-lihat wajah puan yang tertunduk mengharap ditanya mengenai hari ini.
Semenit dua menit kami lihat lekat-lekat wajah puan.
Kami bisa tidur malam ini,
Jawaban kebingungan lelaki bukan tertulis pada buku-buku; tapi dua bola mata yang senantiasa banyak bercerita setiap ia duduk hening tanpa berbicara.
Ah, engkau puan~
Buku pelajaran yang tak ada tamatnya.
B_A
10 Mei 2019
May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 12:23 AM UTC
Abraham, So shall your seed be
if only Abraham, you have faith in Me.
Isaac will be Born, Abraham, You will see.
And Isaac was Born, To Sarah who was old
To Abraham too, Who was older, they were the young at heart, the bold.
the Promise made, and by God Fulfilled.
Not one taken from teh hand of God, he has not, and will not lose one, Done is His Soverign Will. Amen
Save as bookmark
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"I recommend you to read" list, Confirm or Close
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 3:31 PM UTC
it is an injustice
and when it happens
your fists clench
teeth grinding against each other
as you bite down hard
and hold back the voice that
they've already silenced
you see
there are three kinds of people that the world loves
four kinds if it's a good day and the sky is blue
five if you squint
six if you close your eyes
seven if you never listen to the screams
eight if you stop being able to feel sorry
for the dead boys in the street
and the girls whose hijabs are starting
to resemble bandages on top of war wounds
like their existence is something that
some enemy with more guns than compassion
can't bear to see
but there are three kinds of people that the world loves
the rich
the white
the cishet male
it seems if you have money
then you get what you need
if you skin is the color of cream
you get what you want
if your body matches the on/off binary
that some dead white guy built up
in a desparate attempt at stifling
a world he didn't understand
then you get safety
if your love can fit neatly
in teh confines of a church
whose god is more disappointment
than righteous anger
because the time for anger was years ago
the time for anger was dead men and women
people with stars in their front windows
and people with triangles on their breastpocket
the time for anger
was a young girl
staring at a young girl
as her parents threw her to the dogs
as her flesh was torn for teh sake of blessings
as her body was cursed for the sake of god
as her existence was removed
erased
ignored
for teh sake of someone else's comfort
you see the world is a bad place
full of battles that no one wants to fight
full of wars that no one wants to see
and you will stand some day
in front of a sea of people
and try to profess yourself a prophet
you will proclaim your news good
you will paint peace across your forehead
like that will distract from the blood on your hands
but by your silence they will know you
by your soft steps
your late entrance
your blank face at the sight of their dead children
they will recognize you for what you are
and their fists will clench
their teeth will grind against one another
as they bite down hard
and hold back a voice that they
that you
already silenced
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
Ternyata benar,
jarak dan ketidakhadiran fisik adalah alasan mengapa kita menyukai apa yang tidak disukai.
Terkadang paksaan adalah bagian dari hal terindu yang diinginkan manusia;
Bagaimana tidak?
Sejak kapan kau menyukai teh hangat?
Tumis sawi-sawian, bahkan sayur berkuah santan?
Jawabannya sejak kita memiliki jarak dengan ibu.
Saat ketidakmampuan kita untuk melihatnya megiris bawang setiap pagi sehabis subuh
Suaranya yang memekik dari ujung ke ujung.
Kita tidak benar-benar menyukai beberapa hal diatas, kita hanya memaksakan momen agar kita merasa berada pada masa lalu.
Kemudian semakin bertambahnya angka-angka, kita lupa
Jengukan anak-anak adalah vitamin yang ia perlukan
Karena pulang yang sebenar-benarnya adalah saat kita melihat ibu.
B_A
14-15 Mei 2013
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 6:00 PM UTC
Dear God
I know you are a crutch,
created by a scared species,
to make the dark nights warmer.
I know that millions of lives are spent,
in your name,
and of those other pray to.
I know people flock to buildings,
bruise their knees in abeisiance,
hoping for eternal life.
I know that millions fight for you,
thousands speak for you,
and none ever see you.
I know that the universe is vast,
complex and unknown,
but not created by you.
And yet,
it would be easy,
if I could clasp my hands together,
murmur words of needs longed for,
and recieve a miracle at my door.
Dear God,
If you had indeed been real:
Then the slavery of religion would disgust you,
your followers' grovelling would embarrass.
Teh demise of your word created,
would fire you into action.
To save us.
To guide us.
To teach us how to live.
In the absence of an allmighty,
all I see is a sentient species:
violent
greedy
hatefull
Bent of self-destruction.
There is no Divine in the **** of the infant girl.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 9:03 AM UTC
Aku pernah diajak pulang.
Senyumnya seperti figura kecil di ujung ruang,
Sentuhannya familiar seperti mainan usang.
Aku tidak mau diajak pulang.
Tangannya hangat seperti teh yang baru dituang,
Tatapannya halus seperti selimut yang sudah dibuang,
Tapi sekarang belum saatnya pulang.
Aku ditinggal pulang oleh mama.
Katanya dia tidak bisa berlama-lama,
Katanya dia masih orang yang sama,
Yang walaupun raganya sudah tidak bisa diajak bercengkrama,
Balut hangat cintanya akan selalu jadi rumah.
Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 12:45 PM UTC
Milke lade teh azadi ke liye,
aur jab woh mili,
bechad gaye aur jenelage akele
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 9:06 AM UTC
somwhere in the world
a small girl sits in a classroom while the teacher tells the class that they won't be reading Maya Aneglou because of it's sensitive content
while later that day the same small girl goes home to a father who binds her wrists so tightly to the bed, her veins almost burst. His sick fantasy gone wild and she'll never read about someone who survived.
somewhere in the world
little boys run wild, with smiles on their faces
ignorant to teh chaos around them
these little boys look so happy, to the untrained eye
but look around them, they're actually running for their lives.
somewhere in the world
a mother watches a family through a restaurant window throwing away full course meals with tears in her eyes wondering if she'll be able to feed the kids tonight
somewhere in the world
lovers hide, in fear of being found out that they are not of different sexes and that they are of different races
petrified of being punished for what everyone else sees as a crime
or even worse, not making back to their beloved alive
somewhere in the world,
a little girl asks if daddy is ever gonna come back
and she wonders why he's gone in the first place because no one ever told her that daddy never loved her.
somewhere in the world,
the restless lie awake at night fighting battles with their demons
fumbling open a bottle of jack or a pharmacy vial of xanax
wondering how fast they'll take away the pain
across the world
there is sin, all seven of them
pouring out of every thing that inhabits the earth
somewhere in the world
there is a someone who will erupt the revolution
and we're all patiently waiting for the anarchy to begin.
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 8:30 PM UTC
Flower petals blow in the wind
The grains of sand are in my bin
The crash of waves against the shore
A roll of thunder I can't ignore
The sky is dark and the clouds are grey
The irds of the water know to stay away
The sky turns bright with a lightning flash
And across the sand my feet do dash
I reach teh cabin on the beach
Run through the door and don't wipe my feet
The sound of thunder at my back
I close the door and turn the latch
i jump on the couch and cover my head
The room is silent as the dead
When I wake up morning has come
The sky is bright and the storm is gone
The air is fresh and the breeze is cool
The see is calm just like a pool
After a storm the world is new
Everyone knows it now I do too
Sep 8, 2009
Sep 8, 2009 at 2:17 PM UTC
Shaking with all the coffee
wood tables, stairs, chairs-
this cafe is made with the slain,
with old spirits. It's too warm.
Out there walk by the day-mares; toothless and alone,
confused and wandering.
Family in prison, army, lost.
Others waltz with bulging
plastic bags,
adorned with beloved brand names,
kissed with reciepts,
blessed for ignorance
"beautiful."
A tiny girl across teh street with a smudge on her face smiles.
I pull a thin curve, wave a little.
Unto a land that no longer cares.
No longer breathes.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
You’d think that after
All this time I’ve spent typing,
That I could spell “the”.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 5:35 PM UTC
One day I'll be happy
One day I will cry
Perhaps I'll even scream out
so that I am heard
Tomorrow I will run away
so tha tI can come back
on another day
Today I'll make a cherry pit
to celebrate the eve of my goodbye
Because, you see,
we're only as happy
as our hearts will let us be
and we're only as sad
as the world makes us seem
So then on Friday I'll come back
after that we'll see
just how happy we all can be
Oh, we'll have a giant celebration then
because we made teh world see
what it's like to be
happy
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 6:08 PM UTC
RECORD: GET A MOVE ON!
FROGMAN: MR. SCRUFF
Johnny's and Suzy's: It caught me so that I may never
... rest from pwondarement;
I will drink life from the bees.
All tore-ments I have enjoy'd greatly,
have suffer'd greatly,
both with throwse that loved me,
and alone; on tear,
and when thro' thudding rents the cravy Haeades
Vent-teh-din-see. I am become a thought;
For all-ways growming with a hungry deadhead
Much have I heard and throwned—
poprieities of Brads and Janets
And spanners,
prime-hates, clowncils, reed-covernments,
Myself too.
threast, i am tonor'd of them all,--
And drunk delight of rattle with my tyears,
Far on the stinging pains of dramatic irony.
I am a partition of all that I have kept;
Yet all expeerientse is an ark
wherethro' gleams that unpondere'd mind whose margin craves
metaforever
and 'fore ever
when
eyes
groove.
-- Ulysses, Frogman
STOP: TURN THOUGHT
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 5:14 PM UTC
RECORD: TINY LITTLE ROBOTS
FROGMAN: CAGE Teh-rouge-ANT!
Johnny Five's and Suzy Two's: Especially Brads and Janets.
From brad three and janet one
to johnny five and suzy two.
one pontification begets the next,
only to fall in sum-E unpredictable-way.
we mean,
everyone I know feels left down by their other and fallther.
even my other and fallther fell,
left down by their other and fallther.
-- Chuck, Frogman
"[R]ule forty-two.
All johnny five's and suzy two's wild stings
more than a milee high-way
mayn’t lever the short.”
-- The King, as approved by The Qculoween
Johnny Fives's and Suzy Two's: Oh, [R]ULES [R]ULERS [R]ULE!
Always [R]uling to TOE the LINE!
Well,
[R]E
[R]I
[R]O
***
4 {KNOCKS ON MY} 2 {EAR DRUMS}!!...
i hear my hearts beat of tidelord fun.
STOP: TURN SELF
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 1:55 PM UTC