"toor" poems - Hello Poetry

ek het iemand nodig om namens my te bid, te pleit my gebede val soos ouds op dowe ore ongehoor ek voel oud en alleen uit gesmyt ek het nou op gehou pm te glo ek kan toor ek het ver geval en seer gekry ek het op gegee op my my kop en my lyf probeer mekaar so ver moontlik vermy weereens het ek myself verloor ek is te moeg om op te staan om weer te begin soek ek is bang vir die kry, die kruis verhoor ek voel teen gekant en vervloek ek is niks nie anyways

0

Jul 8, 2015

Jul 8, 2015 at 12:02 AM UTC

lucy-winters

my tattoo

ek het iemand nodig om namens my te bid, te pleit my gebede val soos ouds op dowe ore ongehoor ek voel oud en alleen uit gesmyt ek het nou op gehou pm te glo ek kan toor ek het ver geval en seer gekry ek het op gegee op my my kop en my lyf probeer mekaar so ver moontlik vermy weereens het ek myself verloor ek is te moeg om op te staan om weer te begin soek ek is bang vir die kry, die kruis verhoor ek voel teen gekant en vervloek ek is niks nie anyways

12

At last He is the pivot of my vision For whom; you have become an example O’ My Mother! For whom; Toor was decorated as stage For whom; there is no use of sleep and or tiresome For whom; who have power of control of universe And who is most Merciful and Beneficent Who! exists before and after the time His Honor of love that you are selected As your motherly feelings and you are matchless in the world I have listened to a call of Unseen Eternal Voice “I used to love my human not less than seventy mothers”

0

Mar 29, 2015

Mar 29, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC

zik

=== THE PIVOT OF MY VISION

At last He is the pivot of my vision For whom; you have become an example O’ My Mother! For whom; Toor was decorated as stage For whom; there is no use of sleep and or tiresome For whom; who have power of control of universe And who is most Merciful and Beneficent Who! exists before and after the time His Honor of love that you are selected As your motherly feelings and you are matchless in the world I have listened to a call of Unseen Eternal Voice “I used to love my human not less than seventy mothers”

12

. i love being (the) third party iniciative... i romance the... romance of: i do not remember... it's almost like... life... limited to having to stage, being, pulverised... became limbo-staged for my peruse of; necrophylia-esque. the american accent... sim not *** michael... and i start "thinking" of... ha ha! twinky! because i came to boor you with an alligned circumstance of 'floyd.... what? pwetty pick'ah piq- toor? oh... right... i too hate being reintstated by someone not being boxed for a haemorrhage's worth... oh... did i forget to tongue slip the part of licking the postage stamp? i did? oh... well... to recompase... 'ere's my shadow... happy 'oo 'p' eeeeee! oh but i want, michael... like... exotica... ***** name... marph... thew! i too was a golden 'aired boy waiting for a ******* hamster! no? not good the wait? good... i like a screaming quasi suffocating ***** like any ukranian ought to want... i suspect that... the people... who tease... become the most ridicule ridden middle-people of a worth of an escapade for the worth of adventure: they will never have... you are... my most... anticipated... feeble. ... and i... squint eyed, and... oh so many variants.... and... prior to a ****** a psychology... to ingest a replica feast of intelligence for... ich... schattenkind... ich: wollen zu töten... it's when there's a narrative readily available... that... things... become... "apparent"... i have forgotten being a res cogitans... like the observation of Kant.. i am a res per se... with a hiccup of an undertaking of Berlioz... ich bin die dieselbe blondkind ja... ich heben die ketzere' zu töten wie... w'rden z' 'eben... i almost wish... what if Michael was not Matthew? dead-end... buying vinyl.

0

Feb 6, 2019

Feb 6, 2019 at 10:09 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

the american accent

. i love being (the) third party iniciative... i romance the... romance of: i do not remember... it's almost like... life... limited to having to stage, being, pulverised... became limbo-staged for my peruse of; necrophylia-esque. the american accent... sim not *** michael... and i start "thinking" of... ha ha! twinky! because i came to boor you with an alligned circumstance of 'floyd.... what? pwetty pick'ah piq- toor? oh... right... i too hate being reintstated by someone not being boxed for a haemorrhage's worth... oh... did i forget to tongue slip the part of licking the postage stamp? i did? oh... well... to recompase... 'ere's my shadow... happy 'oo 'p' eeeeee! oh but i want, michael... like... exotica... ***** name... marph... thew! i too was a golden 'aired boy waiting for a ******* hamster! no? not good the wait? good... i like a screaming quasi suffocating ***** like any ukranian ought to want... i suspect that... the people... who tease... become the most ridicule ridden middle-people of a worth of an escapade for the worth of adventure: they will never have... you are... my most... anticipated... feeble. ... and i... squint eyed, and... oh so many variants.... and... prior to a ****** a psychology... to ingest a replica feast of intelligence for... ich... schattenkind... ich: wollen zu töten... it's when there's a narrative readily available... that... things... become... "apparent"... i have forgotten being a res cogitans... like the observation of Kant.. i am a res per se... with a hiccup of an undertaking of Berlioz... ich bin die dieselbe blondkind ja... ich heben die ketzere' zu töten wie... w'rden z' 'eben... i almost wish... what if Michael was not Matthew? dead-end... buying vinyl.

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