"transitive" poems
1227
My Triumph lasted till the Drums
Had left the Dead alone
And then I dropped my Victory
And chastened stole along
To where the finished Faces
Conclusion turned on me
And then I hated Glory
And wished myself were They.
What is to be is best descried
When it has also been—
Could Prospect taste of Retrospect
The tyrannies of Men
Were Tenderer—diviner
The Transitive toward.
A Bayonet’s contrition
Is nothing to the Dead.
26.5k
It all begins
With pronouns
I becomes the subject
Of my project
Adding you
And collectively we
I choose you and me
And I exclude the he and the she
Until I am certain of we
You and I pick verbs
actions
Inflect them to match
fit
begin narratives
Transitive verbs take objects
You touch
tickle
tease
taste
take skin
*******
lips
me with words
Words have become a clause
But still a simple construction
So, you tickle me where?
For this you need a preposition
To position your tickling ammunition
Do you touch
tickle
tease me ON my *******
*******
thighs
buttocks
****
Do you feel me INSIDE my mouth
****
soul?
Positioning is envisioning.
Then you use adjectives
To modify descriptions of
Sensory inscriptions
So, gentle complements touch
Soft and passionate kiss
And you become superlative
And adverbs elaborate experience
expression
exploration
You fill me deeply
thoroughly
violently with all that is you
But adverbs can also mean time
Not sweet or cursed time
Or time denoting age
But timing is always important
And grammar dictates
That
Time adverbs are placed
As a beginning or an end
Like a lover's embrace
Thus,
This morning, you woke me with
A demanding "here and now! " and I will reciprocate this, tonight, I vow.
Conjunctions are sentence connectors
And sentences behave like detectors
Bodies balancing with and, but, or
Otherwise subordinate
And the scale tips towards
Conditioning hypotaxis
Making actions a complicated praxis
(before my mind can connect, you will have to pursuade it /pursue it)
But we coordinate conjunctions
Equally
I touch you
You touch me
Exploring
Exploding sensory functions
So, together we cry imperatives
Completing our ****** narratives
Moaning
Whimpering
Begging
Yelling: Please... bind me!
touch me!
bite me!
take me!
come!
Oh! Please, come!
I love the English language... ;)
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
Enter—the transitive nightfall
of diamonds.
There are crop circles dancing
in a wave on Neptune,
with corn rows gleaming from
the man on Mars.
Tail feathers toss toward a
flute near Venus.
Fly me like a rainbow
to the nearest star.
Sirius B
has nothing for me.
Anunnaki women want
to dig my scene.
Don’t take me seriously;
I’m bluffing like a rookie
with a pair of queens.
Moon Unit lands with a
Zappa on Pluto.
Yoda on Saturn
plays steel guitar.
Moses rides in on a
doggone quasar.
Captain Trips sleeps
by a medicine jar.
Sirius B has
something for me.
Hot Nibiru babes try
to make my dream.
Don’t greet me furiously.
I’ll drop you like a comet
heading to the east.
Exit—the transitive nightfall
of diamonds.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
316
The Wind didn’t come from the Orchard—today—
Further than that—
Nor stop to play with the Hay—
Nor joggle a Hat—
He’s a transitive fellow—very—
Rely on that—
If He leave a Bur at the door
We know He has climbed a Fir—
But the Fir is Where—Declare—
Were you ever there?
If He brings Odors of Clovers—
And that is His business—not Ours—
Then He has been with the Mowers—
Whetting away the Hours
To sweet pauses of Hay—
His Way—of a June Day—
If He fling Sand, and Pebble—
Little Boys Hats—and Stubble—
With an occasional Steeple—
And a hoarse “Get out of the way, I say,”
Who’d be the fool to stay?
Would you—Say—
Would you be the fool to stay?
5.2k
I’ve discovered the secret to life!
But, it may not be the most likable knowledge,
And, it definitely does not fall under “small-talk-poetry,”
Yet, it is known that everything-worth-knowing was once considered hideous.
What am I?
I’m human,
like you.
Like you,
I’m human,
What are we?
We are cells,
Cells made up of molecules,
Molecules made up of atoms,
Atoms made up of protons and neutrons and electrons.
Electrons…
The lightest charged particles,
Electrons…
Who weigh 1836 times less than a proton,
Electrons
Found a way to rebel.
Electrons
Repel the nucleic core.
Electrons
Push boundaries.
Electrons
Create space.
An atom is mostly empty space.
All of me is composed of atoms,
All of you is composed of atoms,
We are mostly empty space.
We are just reflections
Of this Universe
Staring back at each other.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
Father is a verb.
- Let me explain:
Father's Day; and
Father Christmas
have tried to convince us,
but don't be fooled:
You can, may or will father,
depending on your mood.
For father is a verb.
It only works in the transitive;
you can't father alone,
only in relationship.
It doesn't resent hospital trips,
and offers wrap-around comfort
when a partnership splits.
It's touch-line volume
drowns out all rivals.
And belly laughs come standard
with jokes on recycle.
[insert joke here]
Yes, father is a verb.
It's something we each do,
despite the hour,
it drives right on through
the night when life’s gone sour.
It'll hammer ten finger nails
to get the job done.
It will dance, heedless of decorum
forgetting reputation.
It turns manliness
into awesome-men-ness,
It tempers strength
with a dose of gentleness, yes
father is a verb.
Be sure, whoever you are,
it works in the singular:
I can father;
You can father
(I'm not talking *** here;
that takes a partner.)
But also,
- it works in the plural -
we can father;
and they can father,
because, you see, in this village
it's an joint activity:
we father (and we mother)
collaboratively.
It works best in the present tense,
happening now, not "LATER!".
It can be said in a gentle voice
or something - even - quieter;
sometimes active:
directive, protecting;
but often responsive:
just sitting, listening;
...holding, and, hugging;
it responds to need, you see,
but works best proactively,
works great
sacrificially.
For example,
though it cost him dearly,
God Fathers us
and through us daily.
And one day, suit pressed,
He'll proudly walk
with the bride of Christ.
And as Father of the bride,
He'll host the party and blow the price;
(- BIGGEST - bar-bill - EVER)
And we'll be sure to save at least one dance
for Father.
Oh yes, you heard,
Father is a verb.
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
1265
The most triumphant Bird I ever knew or met
Embarked upon a twig today
And till Dominion set
I famish to behold so eminent a sight
And sang for nothing scrutable
But intimate Delight.
Retired, and resumed his transitive Estate—
To what delicious Accident
Does finest Glory fit!
2.6k
Specious speculative salacious spectral season
Transmogrify trapezium traverse torsion treason
Erotica errantry erectile endogenic emblazon
Ghastly gnashy grotesque gristly garrison
Larcenous lecherous lascivious latent lesson
Entelechy ethology exsistentialize extant epsilons
Spurious spry squabble subtle specialization
Transient transitive tour de force teleportation
Encephala enunciate endeavor executant emulation
Garish gaudy gambit glitch granulation
Lurid livid liaison limpid laceration
Extravaganza expletives expeditious equilibration emendation
Sly stodgy surreptitious spatiotemporal solicitor
Taciturn tactile transcendent tertiary torpor
Euphoria eminent equivocal exserted emancipator
Garrulous gustatory gung ** gestational gesticulator
Lyricism lilt liberation lambaste levitator
Escutcheon exergonic epaulet exodus extrapolator
Starkness staunch spectacle stolid stultification
Telepathy tantamount tractive tellurian transmutation
Exonerate euthenics exegesis entourage eradication
Groaty gnarly gruesome gristly gastrulation
Licentious lewd lacunar laconic limitation
Extemporaneous exigency embark embargo extradition
Slinky slick sultry stoical snout
Transubstantiate torturous temerarious tumultuous tout
Eucharist extortion enmity epithet eke out
Gross grit groin grove grout
Lentic leister lotic lothario levity lout
Execrating eventuation evocative evitable excerpt bout
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
Molten Magma
There is nothing after no more
And no more after nothing
When a rock get crushed
When a mountain turns powder
When a bone is broken
When the baoba is fell
When monument burn to ashes
When the land rupture
Giving way to fiery fury
And chaotic chasm,
Then there is nothing after no more,
And no more after nothing
When the beginning takes off from the end
And the end from the beginning
And a poor soul at the receiving end of their tyranny,
Then there is nothing after no more,
And no more after nothing
When a poor soul had been poured
like a drink offering,
He becomes the cup and the drink,
He is a product of time immemorial and
disruptive transformation,
He becomes the fire and the ice,
The wind and the whirlwind,
He becomes the roaring thunder
And the thunder roaring
Argh,he becomes the molten magma,
Threatening the foundation of the cosmos
*Fell (transitive; to strike down,kill or destroy)
© Adeoye Favour I.
@Favwrites
@Favcreatives
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 6:15 PM UTC
The black hole’s emanations attempted to fill the gap in galactic infiniteness as all spiraled down to its new beginnings while residual harmonic vibrations honed the forms of its becoming .
The insect’s hum buzzed harmoniously almost melodiously in syncopated integrated vibrations as it flew across the room , out the door and into the night sky .
The ship’s deck rolled and pitched as hurricane weather smashed and shattered its empty hull against the wooden dock .
The blazing core of the comet streaked across the sky as it decomposed in the atmosphere and extinguished its self in the ocean .
The blazing light of innumerable suns chaotic radioactive glair was almost audible like sounds of distant campfires as the last bits of wood crackled into embers beneath the starry sky .
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
verbs
past tense
present tense
verb transitive
Diagramming sentences isn't fun
Especially when you don't need it
participle
adjective
subject
noun
write
read it
to speak it
Language is fun
So much more goes into our written speech
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
The rainbow’s bright colors gazed out of their prism, speculatively, cautiously, almost contrarily, with no wall to paint their patterned pictures on, fading into irrelevance as they vanished into the void .
Time ; torturous and tyrannical, toyed with the torrential turbulence, as it’s transitive tenaciousness thoughtlessly, tactlessly, tooled through the torrid tempest .
The starry-eyed girl gazed glassily across the expanse as if in a quandary over the night sky .
A half human silhouette in a sky filled with thunder heads and birds of prey rooted in a tapestry of alien galaxies and blazing stars playing a melodian .
Water glistened on the skin of the naked woman and rainbows danced in the air before her as the waves crashed against the rocks .
A young man with a pony tail in the center of the back side of his head played his drum while he danced on the grass .
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 10:51 PM UTC
1130
That odd old man is dead a year—
We miss his stated Hat.
’Twas such an evening bright and stiff
His faded lamp went out.
Who miss his antiquated Wick—
Are any **** for him?
Waits any indurated mate
His wrinkled coming Home?
Oh Life, begun in fluent Blood
And consummated dull!
Achievement contemplating thee—
Feels transitive and cool.
1.5k
You ever wake up in the middle of the night real thirsty, and so you go downstairs, or across the house, or whatever, to get somethin' to drink. When you get there you know you don't want water, cause water's got no flavor, but you don't have any juice, and its too late f'r tea or coffee. And you **** sure ain't got any of that bitchmade caffeine free herbal **** either, so you're just left with water, so you drink it even if you don't wantu. Then you start feelin' real upset and dissatisfied what with the fact that you just had to drink water, but then you start to feel bad about feeling bad about "only" havin' water, what on account of all them little starvin' children and whatnot, so you decide to drink a whole nother glass just out of spite towards the little ******** who made you feel that way, determined as hell be grateful as **** this time, but it still don't work. Don't work at all. So you just go upstairs, or across the hall, or the house or whatever, all bloated from like forty ounces of lukewarm tap water and you just lay down all bloated and dissatisfied and sad and questioning the meaning of your terribly mediocre existence. Then you start to feel really down, and questioning like the meaning of things that don't need to be questioned and all. 'En by the time it's gettin' round to like 5 in the morning you realize none of this would have happened if you at least had juice. Hell even koolaid, but it's to late now and you're still all bloated and sad and you just fall asleep cursin' juice and all the fuckin' different kinds of fruit that make it, and made you feel this way, what on account of the transitive property. Ya well, what I'm trying to say here is, **** fruit, its the reason I'm so Go'damn unhappy.
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 1:02 PM UTC
Hope is the last refuge
of the broken and bruised
the painfully confused
who feel ill-used
yet hold on to
a chance to renew
the positive that is
long overdue.
Hope is a smile
that breaks tears
causing some to fall
and others to disappear.
It is a fool’s game
of poor predictions,
bets placed from
bad positions
but still sustain
the lost
and unforgiven,
those painfully driven,
living in the dreams
of what good things
tomorrow might bring.
Hope is a trinket
saved despite the need to eat
so, that when this homeless man meets
his long lost loved
he can give that gift
to the man he misses.
It is a warm spot on
a sidewalk vent,
a hand offering two dollars,
a stranger offering conversations
to break the cold blindness
of this windy winter loneliness.
Hope is daylight
to a prisoner who
moves to make things better
in an unfair system,
an institution
that tries to turn them
into numbers,
less than human
equal to dollar signs.
It is consuming all that bull
running down that rodeo clown
goring him to the core
and making it out
of that gated door
before idiots slam you
back in again.
Hope is a good ear
and a mouth shut
someone who hears
what other people
need so badly to say.
Hope is the lessons
that I have learned and lost
found and forgot
given and taken.
Whether I was right or mistaken
fool or genius
hope is the stream that
swims between us
in shared language,
in shared body movements,
in shared history.
It is the energy
that directs us towards
better days for
all people.
Hope is good
not necessarily
making its lack evil
but it is what people
need to get by,
a reason to stay alive.
Hope is transitive,
equal to what we do
to make dreams reality.
Ultimately, hope is the promise of
compassion yet to come.
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 5:40 AM UTC
Nope. No more.
Inaccurate, you are not a noun or an adjective,
But a verb transitive.
My love is not static,
Not a thing,
It is man-in-motion,
A process, a play,
From henceforth,
I shall address thee thus:
My Loving.
Yes, loving this accuracy,
Amended ways, coming to you
With all my loving,
My Loving...
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 7:32 AM UTC
**** transitive verb
: to force (someone) to have *** with you by using violence or the threat of violence
It sounds like just a word to me.
But it's so much more than it's meaning.
To me it's red eyes and the smell of ****
Like when I was no older than four
And heard the creak, as my step father opened the door,
And held me down as I screamed
But used his force as he slapped me.
And his eyes were red, as he smelled of ****
I cried as I experienced hell,
And when he finished, he told me not to tell.
It changed my life.
It made me feel worthless
So when I was older, and I thought I found the one
That was when the problems re-begun.
I wanted him to love me, and I felt like it was slipping away,
And I felt like having *** was the only was to make him stay.
I was half right
Then he left.
****
It sounds like just a word to me.
But it's so much more than it's meaning.
I got a call from my boss one day,
And he asked me to come over,
But when I got there, I smelt the ****
And it made me shudder.
I smiled, and said,
"You wanted to see me?"
He said, "I heard you were selling something."
And he told me that I looked pretty.
I explained the fundraiser,
But then told him that I should leave,
I was uncomfortable
With my surroundings
He pulled me towards him, and sat on his bed,
And kissed me.
When I tried to stop him, he said,
"You know that he's probably doing the same things with her."
And he was probably right.
Stunned and hurt,
I just sat and stare,
And he kissed me again,
And touched me there
"Please, stop" I said,
"I have to go."
He ripped off my clothes,
As I kept saying, "No"
He pushed inside my as hard as he could,
And I screamed as my body released crimson blood
And he slapped me.
I knew what was happening,
I knew it all too well,
And just like with my step dad,
I cried as I experienced hell.
And he told me not to tell.
RED
Like my stinging cheek, and body.
Like the numbers on the clock.
Like the freshly washed sheets were turning.
Like his eyes.
When he was done, It was 7:35.
I walked to the bathroom, and wiped my burning eyes.
"Stop crying" I whispered to myself,
And I grabbed my pants off the shelf
And put them back on,
Like I've done for so long.
As I walked out, and tried to leave,
He pulled me toward him and kissed me,
I flinched, and I couldn't look at him too,
Then he whispered in my ear, "You're good at what you do."
I ran out of the house and walked for a while,
I walked
And I walked
And I walked for miles.
It's been almost a year now,
Since that day,
When he took me back,
To when it was taken away.
****
It sounds like just a word to me.
But it's so much more than it's meaning.
To me it's red eyes and the smell of ****
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
Given: you and me, represented by the variables Y and M. Y is subject to change, and M is a constant. We are equal to the sum of Y and M.
Given: our lips, represented by the variables L sub yours and L sub mine. Electricity is equal to the sum of L sub y and L sub m. Electricity is equal to euphoria. By the transitive property, the sum of our lips is happiness. Kissing you is happiness.
How much I am attached to you is represented by the variable A. A is equal to the quantity of all the times you make me laugh, plus how many songs are on the playlist you made me, multiplied by how many times I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you in public.
My paranoia that you will leave, represented by P, steadily increases at the same rate as my attachment to you. The volume of the box I isolate myself within is equal to l times w times h. If my anxiety fills my body at the rate of 3 m2/second, how long will it take for me to have an emotional breakdown?
Heartache is equal to the difference of Y and M, and it is represented by H. H increases when it is multiplied by how many days we spent together, multiplied by how many of my friends approved of you, multiplied by how many of your sweatshirts are still in my bedroom, multiplied by how many “text me when you get home safely”s we sent, multiplied by how many times you called me beautiful.
In conclusion, nostalgia markedly increases H.
H reduces when it is divided by the elapsed time in days since H occurred. At some point, the total H reaches zero. A new Y may take its predecessor’s place, and, the algorithm may be used again. But maybe that’s too much math. After all, M is a constant. M is the only thing I need to exist. After all the relentless calculation, maybe a Y doesn’t belong in the equation after all.
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 11:45 AM UTC
The extensions Old French songs from the Latin
( "lying and played Corruption") and "incredulous"
( "If you do not err, the defense is ") (UK) IPA (key)
/ dɪpờeɪv / ****** - SAP so (This is the third part
of it is just easier; coordinate partners past) (Transitive)
network (only) thing; worse and worse; the rules
of the disease related to the need contest.
Excessive ends (difference by different), which
generally straight away. (Enterprises) or soccer
or a mistake or ***** *** "Higher bodies,
Nothing changed. Pervy won (not less) compacted
job responsibilities normophilic (Eventually make +)
false measure the past, the past can easily be finished
by the pasties; The angel of the club, the prophet,
It is my filthy ******* perfectly being known, Magic
for political change; You cut declamatory sleep;
In the garden of the withdrawal; From the beginning
to the end strippers in Latin when the matrons
of the land of guns, lights, turned around, and dancing
staying in the machine language of the soul's natural
sea and culture of prostitutes, the powers he wrote
than that of the married woman who gave birth
to the number led to the buried ***** by the cops;
it is the same scent as Einstein's eyes to Peace |
to understand the feeling began to brush your
it is yet moved by means of: a canticle to the Muses,
Maecenas, and on the beach the public corn;
the talk of the nature of the wall, burning with
Life be certain, fell watching the makeup overcome
calling in vain to hide and wait for the kill, teeth living
in the town of the Chinese and the shadows flee away
and many of the stupid are gathered and the dragon
in yellow is driven a broken mistress; the tube was
removed from her six **** & in glory they are almost
the conversion into flame bright, warm clothes loved
learning subject to the original knee and foot like a fur
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 4:29 AM UTC
Father is a verb. -
Father's Day and Father Christmas
have tried to convince us, - but don't – be - fooled:
You can, may or will father, depending on your mood.
For father is a verb.
It only works in the transitive.
you can't father alone, only in relationship.
It doesn't resent hospital trips,
and offers wrap-around comfort when a partnership splits.
It's touch-line volume drowns out all rivals.
And belly laughs come standard with jokes on recycle.
(insert dad joke here)
Yes, father is a verb.
It's something that you do, despite the hour,
it drives right on through the night when life’s gone sour.
It'll hammer ten fingernails to get the job done.
It will dance, heedless of decorum
forgetting reputation (with an ill-suited hat on).
It turns manliness into awesome-men-ness,
It tempers strength with a dose of gentleness, yes
father is a verb.
Be sure, whoever you are, it works in the singular:
I can father; You can father
(and I'm not talking *** here;
that mostly needs a partner.)
But also,
- it works in the plural -
we can father; and they can father, because, you see,
in this village it’s a joint activity:
we father (and we mother) collaboratively.
It works best in the present tense,
happening now, not "later!". -
It can be said in a gentle voice
or something - even - quieter.
sometimes active: directive, protecting.
but often responsive:
just sitting, listening.
... holding, and hugging.
It responds to need, you see, but works best proactively,
works great sacrificially.
More specifically, in the end it’s a doing word
not a noun to be worn like some tilted crown
It's not some post-coitus reflexive honorific
It's a feat way beyond a sudden beget.
Father’s not some title that you necessarily deserve.
It's one that's sorely earned.
Please believe me - that’s right, you heard,
father is a present continuous, long lifetime of a verb.
Jul 17, 2022
Jul 17, 2022 at 11:28 AM UTC
In Old French language songs and extensions
("False and happy joke") and a "incredulous"
('If I do not err on defense') (UK) IPA (key)
/ Dɪpờeɪv / ****** - SAP (this is the third
To easily navigate, contact with their friend)
(transitive) network (not) above; worst and worse;
the rules of the related related issues to the need.
Completion (difference) is almost immediately.
(Enterprises) or soccer either by mistake or ****** immorality.
"Higher body, Nothing changed. Pervy were ||
(not least) compacted normophilic job assignment
(which can finally be completed) impossible to succeed
in the past past with false heights about pasties;
Angel Club's prophet is there with pencil |||
that we will never be known for political change;
The cult of declamatory sleep; In the garden
of the removal at the outset of the end of the strippers
with Roman matron roots; about the guns, || the lights |
are turning to celebrating staying in the language ||
language of natural; Strength, and culture of the despoiled,
He wrote of the powers of the bridewoman's
Chickens for birth to some of the funerals is no peace,
what is the same, with its pleasant odor enough to the police, that's the Einstein face,
the brush began to feel understood
but he did not move
through the song of the muses, Maecenas and the coastlands,
the grains of grain; Nature is a flame of fire set
in a hold of victory over a few overly made up models
is falling and they will stand in vain perfect,
**** the eggs of the living Chinese,
for the shadows of the city, room, and many people
are fools gathered and the collection of broken tubes of yellow
is extracted from her girlfriend, leaving
the six bookmarks quite famous; The whitening of |
their white glow loves yeast; The teachings
of the original sucker's knee and the ankles of the first thief
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 4:51 AM UTC
Entitle.
Breathing in this second.
Been a long time, still no exit.
Still this air, this place, no effort.
Someday when you are are free.
You will no longer have need to breathe
Someday when you are free .
you will become your anxiety.
Someday when you are free.
Transitive motion becomes liberty.
Someday, when you are free .
Signs will be leading you back to the sea.
See you again.
See you my friend.
Milling the fen.
Willing the zen.
Breathing the pen.
Ten thousand offerings.
Never enough.
Sever my soul from like apple on tree.
Fall to the ground.
See the fools drown.
Drown in the tears of the poor of the town.
Loved till too late.
See you in the ground.
When you come around.
Your side or mine?
Sides or time?
You're on my mind.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 4:51 AM UTC
French and other threats ( "A"), "big" ( "If you do not have a solution solution") (Portugal), IPA (days) / Djip / m Varsaja
(Contracts Center, the soccer and the relationship
If you are (at least) Questions on the bad
At the end of the run ( ) The fact that there has been adulterated.
"The high level". These are (more or less)
The number of carrots; And finally free;
You're probably not having problems with the clothing store.
The demand for military duty keepers
and I do not need to master Roman packages
|| When young people, "a" thank you
The nurse is to learn about Darwin; Where is the box? no football.
The police are the police. I am, however, does not change;
Thanks to the beginning and the games of Others,
however, to the list of apps. add
Low power
No effect,
and loose
in the city,
many are happy;
Combine them with gas, limit Six out of the air and pray
OK. the finger; French, French
The bad (for error) Bonjua: Up (UK) IPA (Tibet)
/ Dɪpờeɪv / Kumari (SP), is not easy.
Staff (traffic) torment and evilRigel to the patient (or football) City,
Turkey Other users (at least one)
The (+) and mixed with a sudden - - - - - - - - - -
Azure ( "or"), and even the French, French
Music ( "lies and intrigue and fraud")
and a "lazy" ( "a mistake; Champion ') (UK) IPA (key)
/ dɪpờeɪv / ****** - SAP (is simple; Ṣiṣekojọpọ by partners,
except the Middle Ages) (Transitive) network
(not) do nothing; worse and worse
The terms of the needs of the disease;
competition. The torque (variant
The various) line. (Plan), or soccer
Terry ignorance of six. "Are agents;
Nothing has changed. Pervy (not less)
offices that serve normophilic (+) Can be easily carried
out Illusion pasties covering glaciers - - - - - - - - - - -
"Pinicala" === percent) (Greek) (kiwi) / opposite
/ Web (the other is simple: "What? Now where are you going?
(); Memory of the disease in the red.
| I do not know (Link) only (no goal) football
What? The dry is it? To play computer (see below)
(Iyanṣe good diet) or false In mid-patient treatment
I was in the UK for the last Bloomberg
What black hair. In particular, I will give you,
however, to say unto him, I am, except in order
that it may do all these things,
All they wanted to talk to him about was
In the application. Carrots influence around the world.
Or once a large etc. Update nothing special gold, [ ]:
- Vipakhi Upton
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
How many anarchists does it take to change a light bulb?
You don't change it! You smash it!
How many therapists does it take to change a light bulb?
Only one, but it must want to change.
How many poets does it take to change a light bulb?
Two.
One to hold the ladder.
And one to tearfully consider the transitive nature of existence compounded by the tragedy of the assumption of replacement without true celebration of the individuality found at the heart of the mass produced and the beauty that can be found in a frail light fighting against the darkness inherent in an unfair world.
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
Father is a verb.
- Let me explain:
Father's Day; and
Father Christmas
have tried to convince us,
but don't be fooled:
You can, may or will father,
depending on your mood.
For father is a verb.
It only works in the transitive;
you can't father alone,
only in relationship.
It doesn't resent hospital trips,
and offers wrap-around comfort
when a partnership splits.
It's touch-line volume
drowns out all rivals.
And belly laughs come standard
with jokes on recycle.
[insert joke here]
Yes, father is a verb.
It's something we each do,
despite the hour,
it drives right on through
the night when life’s gone sour.
It'll hammer ten finger nails
to get the job done.
It will dance, heedless of decorum
forgetting reputation.
It turns manliness
into awesome-men-ness,
It tempers strength
with a dose of gentleness, yes
father is a verb.
Be sure, whoever you are,
it works in the singular:
I can father;
You can father
(I'm not talking *** here;
that takes a partner.)
But also,
- it works in the plural -
we can father;
and they can father,
because, you see, in this village
it's an joint activity:
we father (and we mother)
collaboratively.
It works best in the present tense,
happening now, not "LATER!".
It can be said in a gentle voice
or something - even - quieter;
sometimes active:
directive, protecting;
but often responsive:
just sitting, listening;
...holding, and, hugging;
it responds to need, you see,
but works best proactively,
works great
sacrificially.
For example,
though it cost him dearly,
God Fathers us
and through us daily.
And one day, suit pressed,
He'll proudly walk
with the bride of Christ.
And as Father of the bride,
He'll host the party and blow the price;
(- BIGGEST - bar-bill - EVER)
And we'll be sure to save at least one dance
for Father.
Oh yes, you heard,
Father is a verb.
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 2:16 PM UTC