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"turvy" poems
I rolled out of bed to start my day, but the power was off my all electric home, as still as a grave. No coffee, or toast. The refrigerator not cold, the freezer started dripping the contents soon to spoil. No computer, no cell phone service! I began sweating profusely, no air conditioning to cool me. Not even a TV Emergency Broadcast Alert, to release this uneasy feeling of topsy-turvy . I drove into town seeking a pay phone, with not a single one to be found, gone the way of the dinosaurs, extinct now too I assumed. My old truck had no computer chips, most cars did and were dead in their tracks. I needed gas but the gas station pumps electric computer driven, all DOA to boot. The Nations electric grid had crashed, blacked out, stone cold dead everywhere. All heavenly satellites blacked out, expired. Everything computer related (and that is about everything), had ceased to function as had the electronic reliant world we had created.   The street throngs of dazed people walked around like zombies, clutching blacked out dead computer devices, knowing not what to do. Not even talking, forgotten I guess how to do that too. As dependently defectively programmed as the useless devices in their hands. In a panic I did awake finding that this scary dream world was indeed all fake, a nightmare of fearful unconscious thinking. My electric clock was still churning, It's music alarm blaring, birds outside still singing, my cell phone started ringing, it was merely another Robot call, Welcoming me back to the 21 century.
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Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 10:51 PM UTC
Dinosaurs and Devices
I rolled out of bed to start my day, but the power was off my all electric home, as still as a grave. No coffee, or toast. The refrigerator not cold, the freezer started dripping the contents soon to spoil. No computer, no cell phone service! I began sweating profusely, no air conditioning to cool me. Not even a TV Emergency Broadcast Alert, to release this uneasy feeling of topsy-turvy . I drove into town seeking a pay phone, with not a single one to be found, gone the way of the dinosaurs, extinct now too I assumed. My old truck had no computer chips, most cars did and were dead in their tracks. I needed gas but the gas station pumps electric computer driven, all DOA to boot. The Nations electric grid had crashed, blacked out, stone cold dead everywhere. All heavenly satellites blacked out, expired. Everything computer related (and that is about everything), had ceased to function as had the electronic reliant world we had created.   The street throngs of dazed people walked around like zombies, clutching blacked out dead computer devices, knowing not what to do. Not even talking, forgotten I guess how to do that too. As dependently defectively programmed as the useless devices in their hands. In a panic I did awake finding that this scary dream world was indeed all fake, a nightmare of fearful unconscious thinking. My electric clock was still churning, It's music alarm blaring, birds outside still singing, my cell phone started ringing, it was merely another Robot call, Welcoming me back to the 21 century.
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44
A supine position upon my bed and a slow turning of my head I look out through my window and by chance LISTEN!! Hearing the howling and chilling desultory gusts of wind Noticing seemingly deceptive immutable muffled grey-white low hanging clouds enveloping everything in its heavenly path with coinciding feelings of being enclosed, a slight hint, the oncoming winter A sunless sky also matches the early November mood as virtually motionless elongated pearl-grey-clouds having distinct wind-kissed topsy-turvy-wavy-ruffled bottoms that travel and permeate onward across the heavens These eerie vapors s t r e t c h from north to south east to west casting Buddism's grey colored shadows upon the earth below while not permitting any sky blue to peek through A distant howl and barking of a dog, my inner volcano snuffed out, the tranquilization of Hercules... Time seemingly stops altogether and hangs... ... heated feelings dissipate    into      cool nothingness...
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Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
November Mood
the day the city we built came crumbling down is the day i asked myself over and over again: were you not level headed, were you tipsy turvy, were you drowsy eyed, when there were earthquakes erupting from your palms? were you even ok, when you shoved me in the back of your "junk drawer" in your mind did you even try to know what it felt like when i erased you from my wasted time did you flight or fight or did you even try to understand when your palms were trembling like earthquakes?
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Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
earthquakes
"And the older I get, the more I'm sure That more by itself never was a cure Some days I've got nothing to show for except Walking the dog and walking the floor" Mary Chapin Carpenter <><><> *it's been twenty years plus who can remember exact, the last time I had a full-time four-legged companion to share my bed, greet my head with wagging tail, and joy incessantly, overflowing and drowning me with face lickings and hugs of a topsy turvy twisty body, and smiles and curdling yowls of deep throated cries of obvious joy and the first thing I'll do when the nectar of next life's staging begins to commence will be me to get such a dog as heretofore I remember as an unadulterated purest joy, I'll still walk the floor, long walks, yup, outdoors, early morn, and late afternoon day settling setting endings, dog and me, freshly bathed, settling in to watch some British crime and ****** mysteries sleuthed and solved by folks I'll never meet, but whose company enjoyed over the distance of an atlantic sea and about seven feet, and maybe dog  curls up next to me, by my pillowed head, or between my happy to snuggle legs, don't matter much, dog & me, will discuss an alternating rotation satisfying our mutuality, and even when I  still walk the floor, which be a task for evermore, he can walk beside me if he chooses, cause choice is what's it all about* with a true companion nml
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Aug 18, 2025
Aug 18, 2025 at 5:19 PM UTC
A Man and No Dog
She walked barefoot in the desert and wore desert boots to bed. My baby was topsy turvy dipsy swervy crossed up curvy clean out of her head. A cast iron face that kept the truth bound and shackled. Deep inside her head. Self deception was her stock in trade and every choice she ever made was reasoned Wearing blinders.The snake that ate her tail Her logic was. Circular in nature no ending or beginning. Which guaranteed her winning Regardless. But only in her twisty wheelhouse. Crazy as aa ********* rat. Twisting facts into tasty pastry. Seving them up on shiny ware. Neither here nor either there Calculating slipknot tension Telling tales too tall to mention The daughter of the pretzel maker Part deluded.Rabid faker. Pretzel logic Pretzel minded. Twisted now and twisted later. Down the road I go.
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Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
Pretzel Logic
There is a woman I oft meet On my journey here to home Hey Lady! I feign to shout. My complexion's dark But not my Soul. So when you fright On my approach For Goodness Sake; There is no need To cross the road. I'll feel that for a millennia, ME & My kin You so rudely Robbing me, Of the opportunity, To politely Commune with you... “good morning” Then again, You could be applying, Learned street smarts? Changing lanes, Avoiding crossing paths. This Uptown Downtown Topsy-Turvy Up-side-down YOU'RE - SO - COOL Pretending not to see me, Hiding under your Beats Skull candy. What sweet music are you channeling? Tunes contrary to Art? Con Artist Purveyors of Catchy wicked things Said twice? High definition 'Stereo' Types? Shall we dance from a distance Again tomorrow? Yes of course! For I believe, You too have been deceived. Hey! Ms. Concept, R U Thinking; The beauty found in this deep Brown, Predetermines fact that I'm called Black? © Qwey.ku
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Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
Ms. Concept
The identity is not correct, God’s people dishonored and in a state of aggression, Geographically topsy turvy, the history is miseducation Blasphemy spits in the face of the Motherland like mocking the wrath of a silent Beast… Like scorching the sky for ThunderWe’re provoking Divine InterventionAND SO IT SHALL BE…!
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Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 4:16 AM UTC
a fistful of tears
You say to show you that I’m responsible But every time I do you look away You say I can't have this till I'm grown up But how old do I have to be You are always telling me these things Always shouting in my face Always applying just a little bit more pressure But when are you going to start seeing the things that you have been missing? You have always told me to act like my siblings But when I do you scold me for doing so You tell me to act my age But when I do You ground me How much more of this topsy turvy world must I take How much more do you need to tell me How much more do I need to show you Why can't you ever be happy with just me I may not always be responsible But I am when it counts I may make mistakes But thats what I'm supposed to do Can't you see how much has changed Can't you see that I'm still not 5 You are eventually going to miss everything I wish you would catch up to the RESPONSIBLE ME
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Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
Responsibility
He lives in fear Some will discover He lives in disguise Like a spy undercover. He lives in suspense, Did he let something slip. He lives in madness Like a bad acid trip. It’s a topsy-turvy world Where lying is the stock-in-trade. False approval from peers Is the payment for deals he made. The pats on his back Are what he does the whole thing for. The social approval gives Gifts to him too grand to ignore. He lives in fear Some will discover He lives in disguise Like a spy undercover. Pride in who he is A distant world he cannot see. An Everest to climb That threatens his mortality. He has to lie constantly Or forget himself accidentally. Telling the truth will Remove his sense of morality. He lives in suspense, Did he let something slip. He lives in madness Like a bad acid trip. He doesn’t trust feelings They make of him a criminal. His relationship with pride And self-esteem is minimal. That others can be free Can never apply to someone like him. He hears there is liberation But his own chances are very slim. He lives in fear Some will discover He lives in disguise Like a spy undercover. He lives in suspense, Did he let something slip. He lives in madness Like a bad acid trip.
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Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
SECRET AGENT
**** that **** This is poetry now. Can you say it isn’t real? Can you say my lowbrow barbaric mind doesn’t express itself? Can you tell me these words aren’t art? **** that. This outcry is whats comin next. Them burnt cars and bullet scars, ***** boots and tittie bars, forget to bathe, **** the shave, my pillow case is made of pave-ment, twenty years late on that first pay-ment. I asked the question but got delay-ment, on what the **** has this all meant? My colours just distract, them smiles just an act- you think I’m tokin and ******* and happy go-lucking, ***** im drowning in the bills I haven’t even seen yet, throwin off the debts as the horse that rolls the best bet, and don’t forget, every second you lay down to lie them eyes and theorize, youre just getten burglarized, want a burger and fries? Twenty years off your life- oh and the change too. Twenty seven ninety-five, thirteen plus the years I’ll spend, locked up with nothing to tend, no garden, no fruit, no love to loot, no wide eyes to fill and no breeze to shoot, just a chain gain filling my ***** with soot, stabbing by the next poor guy, jabbing by that suit and tie, the key is not to fit it right- so that every turn reminds who you belong to. And this is what I wanna do? Hold up- I pay for that **** Now I understand suicide you nihilistic gits, taking hits while the rest picks up the bits and the red runs the slits but no one sees the slip. Topsy turvy sliding down the grassy knoll, the heads tumble but the dough will never roll. No. Its busy ******* me in, me and my ilk, like me too much an *** to be thankful for robes of silk, mommy’s milk, eleventh hours and the stockpiles of the dowry. Soft as a baby, never ****** on the sour but the sweet, pink feet, earned on thin green sheet and the red as the man is beat, beaten and burned, turned spurned despite his age and whats learned. What is learned? If only I could tell you. We’s on the same track , don’t ask me whats gon spell true.
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May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 4:10 PM UTC
Unspoken Rant in a Library
**** that **** This is poetry now. Can you say it isn’t real? Can you say my lowbrow barbaric mind doesn’t express itself? Can you tell me these words aren’t art? **** that. This outcry is whats comin next. Them burnt cars and bullet scars, ***** boots and tittie bars, forget to bathe, **** the shave, my pillow case is made of pave-ment, twenty years late on that first pay-ment. I asked the question but got delay-ment, on what the **** has this all meant? My colours just distract, them smiles just an act- you think I’m tokin and ******* and happy go-lucking, ***** im drowning in the bills I haven’t even seen yet, throwin off the debts as the horse that rolls the best bet, and don’t forget, every second you lay down to lie them eyes and theorize, youre just getten burglarized, want a burger and fries? Twenty years off your life- oh and the change too. Twenty seven ninety-five, thirteen plus the years I’ll spend, locked up with nothing to tend, no garden, no fruit, no love to loot, no wide eyes to fill and no breeze to shoot, just a chain gain filling my ***** with soot, stabbing by the next poor guy, jabbing by that suit and tie, the key is not to fit it right- so that every turn reminds who you belong to. And this is what I wanna do? Hold up- I pay for that **** Now I understand suicide you nihilistic gits, taking hits while the rest picks up the bits and the red runs the slits but no one sees the slip. Topsy turvy sliding down the grassy knoll, the heads tumble but the dough will never roll. No. Its busy ******* me in, me and my ilk, like me too much an *** to be thankful for robes of silk, mommy’s milk, eleventh hours and the stockpiles of the dowry. Soft as a baby, never ****** on the sour but the sweet, pink feet, earned on thin green sheet and the red as the man is beat, beaten and burned, turned spurned despite his age and whats learned. What is learned? If only I could tell you. We’s on the same track , don’t ask me whats gon spell true.
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The forcible torrents rave on, ceaseless Turmoil spins in a topsy-turvy wave Bodies in shambles, minds twisted, restless Drama and crises, emotions we crave Twerking with the devil, licking the sledge Morison's snake ride to "The (darkest) End" Pushing the limits over the damp edge Following and tweaking the latest trend Emotional upheaval - rebellion Creative juices overflow with paint There is art in every great Hellion But little ink flows from the mighty saint Be content in the rich chaos of youth It's the rains that nurture the seeds of truth
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Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
Sonnet 2: Chaos
Hops and topsy-turvy jumps ― blurred movement muddles across  the dewy meadow floor, as though dawn brushes away the sandman’s magic from the corner of sleepy eyes,                                   to cast an enchanting spell     A sudden hazy yet abrupt stop…     hastily,  halting ,   frozen motionless Stillness, as if some final destination has been reached…    Neck stretched and craning, tilted with an eye to mother earth ; a canted focus beyond interruption    In the blink of an eye,    with a vigor too rapid to capture,    as the nowness of urgency flashes ―       She stretches the earthworm    with the grasp of subsistence knowing after fall   becomes the long winterlude. The morning sun illuminates the glow of the native Maple’s glorious fiery orange and yellow color palette   A steady stream of animation rushes in and out    of the giant tree’s golden splendor Abundance perishes with the seasonal gardens decay. Mornings of blueberry and strawberry feasts have left the red breasted robbers foraging for the last rotting apples the deer have left behind.    Harbingers of spring…       Blueberry sneakers…       Gleaners of fall and winter.. “Teeek”  “tuk” “tuk” “Tseep”....         fills the overhead air    with a beautifully chaotic verve The flock returns repeatedly     to and fro     the towering Maple to the ripened cornucopia of scarlet berry clusters of the Mountain Ash The Robin’s flock ravage and gorge on the plentiful delights Soon the crimson berries fuel of flight will disappear    as if it were only an unspoken allusion           of the passing seasons The pearl gray sky is an ominous backdrop           for the fickle fleeting migrants Daylight fades as the flock disappears           into a break                in the clouds fleeting unto the ominous pending winter sky… In the blink of an eye ... life’s  senescent seasons transform the stormy whirling winds of change bearing the golden Autumn leave’s splendor    across the rolling vista like a higgledy-piggledy murmuration    of a migrating beautiful mess The naked rooted scaffold’s branches stretch across the sprawling tapestry of the wooded sanctuary. Winter flocks of Thrush and Robins,     arrive on a frosty new dawn Red breast feathers puff with the morning sun’s rays, warming the tree tops leaning toward the southern sky;    Their journey here and now, from distant mountainous horizons,    is part of a soul’s sacred circle of life… November rivers ...the final autumn entry of 2017
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Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 10:26 AM UTC
Flight of the Red Breasted Robin...
Hops and topsy-turvy jumps ― blurred movement muddles across  the dewy meadow floor, as though dawn brushes away the sandman’s magic from the corner of sleepy eyes,                                   to cast an enchanting spell     A sudden hazy yet abrupt stop…     hastily,  halting ,   frozen motionless Stillness, as if some final destination has been reached…    Neck stretched and craning, tilted with an eye to mother earth ; a canted focus beyond interruption    In the blink of an eye,    with a vigor too rapid to capture,    as the nowness of urgency flashes ―       She stretches the earthworm    with the grasp of subsistence knowing after fall   becomes the long winterlude. The morning sun illuminates the glow of the native Maple’s glorious fiery orange and yellow color palette   A steady stream of animation rushes in and out    of the giant tree’s golden splendor Abundance perishes with the seasonal gardens decay. Mornings of blueberry and strawberry feasts have left the red breasted robbers foraging for the last rotting apples the deer have left behind.    Harbingers of spring…       Blueberry sneakers…       Gleaners of fall and winter.. “Teeek”  “tuk” “tuk” “Tseep”....         fills the overhead air    with a beautifully chaotic verve The flock returns repeatedly     to and fro     the towering Maple to the ripened cornucopia of scarlet berry clusters of the Mountain Ash The Robin’s flock ravage and gorge on the plentiful delights Soon the crimson berries fuel of flight will disappear    as if it were only an unspoken allusion           of the passing seasons The pearl gray sky is an ominous backdrop           for the fickle fleeting migrants Daylight fades as the flock disappears           into a break                in the clouds fleeting unto the ominous pending winter sky… In the blink of an eye ... life’s  senescent seasons transform the stormy whirling winds of change bearing the golden Autumn leave’s splendor    across the rolling vista like a higgledy-piggledy murmuration    of a migrating beautiful mess The naked rooted scaffold’s branches stretch across the sprawling tapestry of the wooded sanctuary. Winter flocks of Thrush and Robins,     arrive on a frosty new dawn Red breast feathers puff with the morning sun’s rays, warming the tree tops leaning toward the southern sky;    Their journey here and now, from distant mountainous horizons,    is part of a soul’s sacred circle of life… November rivers ...the final autumn entry of 2017
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What if Escher had it right and "within" is really "without," and stairs turn inside out and "up" is just the same as "down?" Imagine if you will a "topsy-turvy" sort of place (or is that "turvy-topsy") where time marches retrograde and all effects precede their causes. I know, I know, your life is busy but can't you drop it all for half a day and step out with me (with Escher at our side)? We'll cross the edge of time and space where an alternate universe or two is just a dream away. Hurry up now (or then), let's go! We have to get back before the sun ascends in the west!
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Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:20 AM UTC
Space - Time on a Slant
Dream ! Dream !! Dream !!! Ever wonder Why dreams matter? *** Do we dream fiction, Or we dream our fears, Or we dream our aspirations, Why do we dream at all?? *** Sometimes of A drowning floods, A ruined fort, Babies playing around, A chaos, a commotion, Sometimes of loved ones Who are long past dead, Sometimes of the ex-lover, Who had once been our friend. *** Day dreams, And sleeping dreams, Subconscious dreams, And coma dreams, Next life dreams, And death bed dreams, Near death dreams, And God vision dreams, Dreams to see us on top, Dreams achieved against all odds..!! *** Sometimes, I wonder Is not our lives, A God's own dream? And that's how we move around HIM!! Some days are happy another too heavy, When our whole world goes Topsy turvy. Just like scenes of our dreams, If we become characters of HIS dreams, Doesn't life become better understood?? *** If we become part of His dreams, Can we not better understand - Why are we stuck in between the sea? Why is our town flooding? Why did the accident **** our loved one? Or why did our baby die? Why did we fail? Why are we blessed with success? Or just the thought WHY ME?? *** This thought makes life less complicated, To love, To move, To live, To die, The smiles, The cries, We are just HIS walking dreams, And so, *** Now we don't have to blame HIM for our hard times, We just have to wait for HIS better dreams..!!! *** SPARKLE IN WISDOM. AUGUST 2018
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Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
God's Own Dreams
Spin spin Sally, spin spin, Right into damnation, right into Sin. Topsy-turvy Sally, topsy-turvy in the din. Let the black wolf in, Sally Let the carnal win, Let the madness in, Sally Remember with a grin; ''Stay thin, think gin.'' And give release Sally. Fire bullets through the tins Ride ******** through the wind **** your karma, **** your kin, Spin spin Sally, Spin, spin. Topsy-turvy Sally, Topsy-turvy in the din.
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Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
Sally
I Didn't Need any new Friends in my full life Yet you interred my life with A furry and vigor that couldn't be denied Turned my world up side down Making it topsy-turvy   Thank you for You and I
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Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
Diamond
In a second my life changed like i could never imagine The world was all Topsy turvy and i a floating object in the turmoil A simple six letter word Thats all it took to take my stable world away Upon that fateful day I was 15 and the date was May 12 2008 My diagnosis Hodgkin's lymphoma stage 2 B My freedom was stolen from me School i could no longer attend People i could no longer see The world was shut away from me Chemo and Radiation were my companions Aiding me in my time of need But the truth in that was they were killing me more than saving Strong of heart was I I would not be taken down I tried to show no fear or sorrow And now am thought a strong young lady by many others The most glorious day was when the cancer went away September 28 2008 i was told After I regained the freedom i had lost four months later did my true story unfold January 12 2009 I knew something was wrong I was right I had not yet won the fight Hodgkin's lymphoma was back to greet me This time worse stage 4 B had me captured A junior in high school i had been But now once again I could no longer attend Chemo my friend, we were reunited I guess it missed me This time a new component was introduced Bone-marrow transplant, Auto stem cell After tackling these feats I met radiation again September 2009 i was said to be free it was like history repeating itself But this time i was wary now it is July 4 2010 I am heathy, I have graduated but the damage my six lettered fiend has reaped upon me is still here An immune system i no longer have My life still on pause But i do not care Because i know what its like to have your life dissipate without warning Life is like a flame it can be snuffed out in a second So remember my words Please Dont let any regret into your life Dont pass a single moment by Live love and try
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Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 2:50 PM UTC
Six Lettered Word
In a second my life changed like i could never imagine The world was all Topsy turvy and i a floating object in the turmoil A simple six letter word Thats all it took to take my stable world away Upon that fateful day I was 15 and the date was May 12 2008 My diagnosis Hodgkin's lymphoma stage 2 B My freedom was stolen from me School i could no longer attend People i could no longer see The world was shut away from me Chemo and Radiation were my companions Aiding me in my time of need But the truth in that was they were killing me more than saving Strong of heart was I I would not be taken down I tried to show no fear or sorrow And now am thought a strong young lady by many others The most glorious day was when the cancer went away September 28 2008 i was told After I regained the freedom i had lost four months later did my true story unfold January 12 2009 I knew something was wrong I was right I had not yet won the fight Hodgkin's lymphoma was back to greet me This time worse stage 4 B had me captured A junior in high school i had been But now once again I could no longer attend Chemo my friend, we were reunited I guess it missed me This time a new component was introduced Bone-marrow transplant, Auto stem cell After tackling these feats I met radiation again September 2009 i was said to be free it was like history repeating itself But this time i was wary now it is July 4 2010 I am heathy, I have graduated but the damage my six lettered fiend has reaped upon me is still here An immune system i no longer have My life still on pause But i do not care Because i know what its like to have your life dissipate without warning Life is like a flame it can be snuffed out in a second So remember my words Please Dont let any regret into your life Dont pass a single moment by Live love and try
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we’re not lost, we’re just a little topsy turvy today but who says the ceiling has to be up when we’re both so low?
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Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
We're Okay In Our Own Way
Cranky clitorous Shaking in bliss. Topsy turvy, Give me a tickle. Give me a lick, Like lollipop sugar sweetness - You've got a candy coated tongue. Twitching legs. Raking nails across Crumpled sheets. Don't cry baby, Even though it's beautiful to die.
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Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
pervert
Happiness, sadness grips me I stop, I pause, I freeze Topsy, turvy, tipsy An attitude in the breeze This way, that way, this and that Changing minds, changing clothes Anger, fear, terror, and laughs Really, anything goes. The agonizing headaches Constantly switching sides The happiness and the heartbreaks Change in heart, change in tide.
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Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
Mood Swings
A lot can happen in a week, Let alone in one whole year. Many dreams can be shattered; Many rights can disappear. Things can all be topsy-turvy. Foundations of democracy Can crumble from the constant blows Of madness and hypocrisy. In a flash a nation whose Ideals helped it achieve its dreams Can lose the threads that held it together And start to fall apart at the seams. In an instant, something that we Took for granted--freedom for all-- Can grieve over its final performance As it waits for its curtain call. In a short period of time, Progress made in human rights Can find itself desperately Groping through the darkest of nights. In a matter of days, a small Group of people driven by greed, Thirst for power, and grotesque views Can choke a nation with frightening speed. But ALSO in a matter of days, More people can open their eyes And read between the lines and see Scores of manipulating lies. In this same period of time, People can dig in their heels and say, "Together we stand; we refuse To let our rights be taken away." - by Bob B (1-29-17)
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Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
A Lot Can Happen in a Week
Entice on its flavor Suffer and adore Topsy-turvy yet happy Afflicting, coffee can be Sip it, be contented Linger on its power One must adroit to embed Coffee is hard to endure One touch, be wary There’s no hope exit Pain through coffee, defeat A synecdoche of a story
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Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC
Well, Coffee is Love
Who made you the centre of my universe? Because it sure wasn't me. Do you think that I want my life to revolve around you? like i'm just a planet orbiting the sun, A pair of jeans in the washing machine Or flotsam in a whirlpool. I don't suppose you'd understand, How dizzy I get, after a day around you Or even a few moments. How I can't keep my balance And the world sort of tips till' everything is inside out backwards and all mixed up. Except you. because for some reason the only stable thing in this topsy-turvy world is you.
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Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
Who Made You The Center Of The Universe?
**Topsy and Turvy, hassled and harried jostled among a jungle of jumble, so busy they beavered, in search of a bauble upon all the shelves, so deftly they delved, ... within the lair of the piffling frippary. They ambled and rambled, so giddy they gambolled and sought for that trivial trinket or trifle, they rummaged and rifled, their eagerness stifled, through struggle, they strived, from nine until five, ... within the lair of the piffling frippary. Staunch but stressed, their zest so hard pressed for until discovered, found and recovered, they muttered and spluttered, and audibly uttered within the lair of the piffling frippary, ... persuing that piece of paltry frivolity. Now flagging, they floundered, not finding the foible in shambles they rambled, revealing reluctance, and ceding, conceding, they threw in the towel on trembling, tottering knees they now tumbled, ... out of the lair, of the piffling frippary. ...   ...   ...**
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Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 10:42 AM UTC
... Lair Of The Piffling Frippary ...
I am soft and gentle and bring a clarity to the dark night. I wear a loving darkness like a comfortable cloak. I am the vanishing vampire puff puff you see me now i am gone. For I am the creature of the night. When your world caves in your emotions turn to darkness. Just listen deeply and you may hear me flutter in the blackness. For you are not alone as your friend I am here. A gentle creature comfortable in the night. I am the sometimes the forgotten hidden in the corner in my cave there i hang. We live our lives upside down sometimes living our teens in our thirties. As we slip into caves through cracks often hiding in places. We light the night with sound, magic and our emotional moon. Soft and angelic we are so innocent in nature. In this topsy turvy land we turn the world upside down and find GOD also lives underground. So we never fear or feel claustrophobic this darkness is our home. I never waste my time looking to the future to me it is all a blank. And there i find my freedom no burden or expectation. I am the deep sleep that has no dreams. Perch with me in my cave I will give you silent night I am your greatest ally in the darkness. As I fly into blackness with speed and purpose There in the moonlight I detach myself spread my wings find my freedom Out of site I vanish from the world for only those who look into caves their darkness will ever have a chance to find me. Sometimes I fly high breaking into the night turn of my sound and just disappear. I relax sit back into the my void have a break from myself. Puff puff i am he vampire who has just gone. Remember when your world caves in turns to darkness. Do not panic just disappear into blackness. You will hear me flutter and know I am near. For with a little bat becomes very clear.
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May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC
A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT
I am soft and gentle and bring a clarity to the dark night. I wear a loving darkness like a comfortable cloak. I am the vanishing vampire puff puff you see me now i am gone. For I am the creature of the night. When your world caves in your emotions turn to darkness. Just listen deeply and you may hear me flutter in the blackness. For you are not alone as your friend I am here. A gentle creature comfortable in the night. I am the sometimes the forgotten hidden in the corner in my cave there i hang. We live our lives upside down sometimes living our teens in our thirties. As we slip into caves through cracks often hiding in places. We light the night with sound, magic and our emotional moon. Soft and angelic we are so innocent in nature. In this topsy turvy land we turn the world upside down and find GOD also lives underground. So we never fear or feel claustrophobic this darkness is our home. I never waste my time looking to the future to me it is all a blank. And there i find my freedom no burden or expectation. I am the deep sleep that has no dreams. Perch with me in my cave I will give you silent night I am your greatest ally in the darkness. As I fly into blackness with speed and purpose There in the moonlight I detach myself spread my wings find my freedom Out of site I vanish from the world for only those who look into caves their darkness will ever have a chance to find me. Sometimes I fly high breaking into the night turn of my sound and just disappear. I relax sit back into the my void have a break from myself. Puff puff i am he vampire who has just gone. Remember when your world caves in turns to darkness. Do not panic just disappear into blackness. You will hear me flutter and know I am near. For with a little bat becomes very clear.
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