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"twirly" poems
Twirly, whirly, curly Q Hair upon my head. People say it’s beautiful. To me, it’s merely dead. Twirly, whirly, curly Q Whenever I take a nap, I look like lightening came down from heaven And gave me a little zap! Twirly, whirly, curly Q Whether wind, rain, or snow. Humidity is my enemy I have a **** afro. Twirly, whirly, curly Q People stop and stare. They ask me if it’s natural As if they really care. Twirly, whirly, curly Q I think it’s rather boring. You pay buckets to look like me It’s so freaking annoying. Twirly, whirly, curly Q Girls tell me that they’re jealous. But if they really knew the struggle, They’d agree it’s rather hellish. Twirly, whirly, curly Q Straight hair would be a dream. I’d brush and brush and brush my hair And never even scream. Twirly, whirly, curly Q Alas, it’s here to stay. But I guess that’s what makes me different, And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
0
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 6:49 PM UTC
Twirly, Whirly, Curly Q
"You're Mexican?! You don't look Mexican?"              "What's Mexican supposed to look like?" "Oh, you know... Sombrero, a curly twirly mustache, maybe like holding a taco!"             "I am eating a taco." "No, like a real taco. One that is like made in Mexico, with like Mexican beans, and Mexican ladies. You know what I mean."            "No, I don't." "What's it like? Did you have a quinceanera thingy? Do you speak Spanish?"            "No and no." "What?! Then you like aren't a real Mexican. All Mexicans can habla Espanol."             "Oh, you know what. I forgot. I know what it is." "What?"              "I'm not just Mexican, I'm German too." "That makes like total sense. No wonder you can't speak Spanish. But wait, like were your family Nazis?"
0
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 11:34 AM UTC
You're so like, Ethnic
Whirly twirly dandelion. Whafty whafty breeze. Happy sappy baby face. He's down on a knee. Don't ***** this up. Make her smile. And if you're feeling brave Ask her to stay a while. And she will cause she loves you But then you'll leave cause that's what boys do To pretty girls With pinwheel curls On a windy afternoon.
0
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
curly sue gets proposed to
Some people like fall, but not me. It's full of death and decay, the gorgeous pieces of fire drift from their skeletal homes and burn out into sodden mushy brown paper. Hard smooth and brown pebbles, spiky holey bombs, and twirly helicopter blades fall from the same skeletons and hide beneath the paper, waiting for an innocent victim, lying in the perfect position to slip someone up so that they lose their bags and packages as they themselves go slip slide crashing into the ground. The victims are sure to rise up again, but with some bruises and bits of soggy brown, stuck all over their clothes In fall, all the blooms of color decease, all fruit and vegetable and good green things die and leaves the world sodden mushy and brown. Some people say they like winter, but not me. It's a cold cruel and heartless season, robbing any last trace of life from all helpless and left-behind creatures. The vegetation becomes glazed over with melting glass and is the one spot of beauty, as the only green left resides on prickly evergreens, housebound plants, and the occasional tacky coat. In winter, there is no way to leave your personal fortress without mountains of clothes, and so every person becomes a chapped lipped, red cheeked, stiff fingered puffball. Every time you jump into a mound of the white fluff that accompanies the dread season, some is bound to creep into your shirt and boots, freezing whatever it touches, and then ever so so slowly flowing along your skin, one of Gaia's little tortures.
0
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 10:19 PM UTC
seasons
Some people like fall, but not me. It's full of death and decay, the gorgeous pieces of fire drift from their skeletal homes and burn out into sodden mushy brown paper. Hard smooth and brown pebbles, spiky holey bombs, and twirly helicopter blades fall from the same skeletons and hide beneath the paper, waiting for an innocent victim, lying in the perfect position to slip someone up so that they lose their bags and packages as they themselves go slip slide crashing into the ground. The victims are sure to rise up again, but with some bruises and bits of soggy brown, stuck all over their clothes In fall, all the blooms of color decease, all fruit and vegetable and good green things die and leaves the world sodden mushy and brown. Some people say they like winter, but not me. It's a cold cruel and heartless season, robbing any last trace of life from all helpless and left-behind creatures. The vegetation becomes glazed over with melting glass and is the one spot of beauty, as the only green left resides on prickly evergreens, housebound plants, and the occasional tacky coat. In winter, there is no way to leave your personal fortress without mountains of clothes, and so every person becomes a chapped lipped, red cheeked, stiff fingered puffball. Every time you jump into a mound of the white fluff that accompanies the dread season, some is bound to creep into your shirt and boots, freezing whatever it touches, and then ever so so slowly flowing along your skin, one of Gaia's little tortures.
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20
Moo-Cow-Butterfly Not a happy lass Stubby little wings Superfluous mass Four long stringy legs Twirly-whirly tongue Moo-Cow-Butterfly Highly strung Weasel-Emu-Rangutan Fifty shades of fur Quite the oddest vertebrate To naturally occur Burrows in the jungle Terrified of heights Weasel-Emu-Rangutan Restless nights Labra-Hippo-Jellyfish Slimy furry blob Genetic Engineering **** poor job Moping on the seabed Can’t fetch sticks Labra-Hippo-Jellyfish Sink like bricks Chameleon-Begonias Origin unknown Disappear rapidly As soon as they are sown Neither here or thereabouts But somewhere in between Chameleon-Begonias Seldom Seen
0
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
The Real Dangers of Genetic Modification
Just because I’m reclusive, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Above you stand only second-hand crossword puzzles chucked by gods, their errors in ink. The newsprint covers your head and you fill in some blank squares to make words shorter, how you want them to be. If you had your way, you’d be a philosophy major. You’d submerge yourself in knowledge like a child who spiraled from heaven via twirly slide in a pit of plastic ***** Your way would lead to fortune cookies filled with morbid maxims and hand-picked lucky numbers because computers are so impersonal. You’d call the absence of ignorance death; but until then, bathroom wall banter must do. **** what goes on in bathroom stalls. I touch myself in a public restroom thinking of you, my eagerness a shaken bottle of ginger ale. Two hours later, they start peering in the stall, asking if I’m alright in there. I feel the way I did when Jessica Serber ripped out my braid in second grade when we were playing Marco Polo. I told Coach Fish and she asked, “What am I supposed to do? Glue it back on?” I hated her ever since. And yet it’s not just hatred, but also fear, like the fear of killing spiders in case their family chooses to avenge them. I can never get over it; I can never live it down. So forgive me for never telling you this. Forgive me for never telling you much of anything. Just because I’m reclusive, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. But if one day you decide to leave me, I’ll hire a hustler who looks just like you.
0
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 9:47 AM UTC
Introspection
Just because I’m reclusive, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Above you stand only second-hand crossword puzzles chucked by gods, their errors in ink. The newsprint covers your head and you fill in some blank squares to make words shorter, how you want them to be. If you had your way, you’d be a philosophy major. You’d submerge yourself in knowledge like a child who spiraled from heaven via twirly slide in a pit of plastic ***** Your way would lead to fortune cookies filled with morbid maxims and hand-picked lucky numbers because computers are so impersonal. You’d call the absence of ignorance death; but until then, bathroom wall banter must do. **** what goes on in bathroom stalls. I touch myself in a public restroom thinking of you, my eagerness a shaken bottle of ginger ale. Two hours later, they start peering in the stall, asking if I’m alright in there. I feel the way I did when Jessica Serber ripped out my braid in second grade when we were playing Marco Polo. I told Coach Fish and she asked, “What am I supposed to do? Glue it back on?” I hated her ever since. And yet it’s not just hatred, but also fear, like the fear of killing spiders in case their family chooses to avenge them. I can never get over it; I can never live it down. So forgive me for never telling you this. Forgive me for never telling you much of anything. Just because I’m reclusive, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. But if one day you decide to leave me, I’ll hire a hustler who looks just like you.
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1
ders ah leetola hole ah in ah dee woll in my housse wherre i like to go to crrawl into and ah hide and wear childrens clothing. Ah you knoww,, de diapers and ah things. twirly hats and big ah big ah BIG swirly lolli pops. so ah delicious of a baby do i become. EVERY stranger on de whole neighborhood wants to ah talk ah to mee. im so cute ah. ders a no way around it. and i like to ah show it off. yess... to enTICE ah dee old mens. who are so helpless in front of me dey can not ah stop. no stopp ah de drooling in de mouth. no stopp ah de grrabbing with der hanns. no stopp from de taking off ah de clothes ah to make a sandwich de amore with ah leetol baby mee. but ah dey ah can not ah FIT in dis tiny tiny tiny hole in ah my woll in ah my housse....and i go to bed lonely and crying. i feel ah so BAD! so BAD for de other lonely lonely mans who are all probably doing very ah cute things too in de holes in ah der wolls in ah der housses... it iss ah truth to bear.. god..no god...whoo knows.. all i ah do know iss diss: we are all ah lonely sad peoples dressing like de baby in ah hole in de wolls in ah our housse. for tears of crying, i give to you.
0
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 4:17 PM UTC
it is my time for ah my hole in ah my woll time.
*actually, the only home i have are the muddy fields of belgium during world war i, or among the jews, but given the jews are settled, i guess i better daydream: i mean i never got the cultural imprint of the english idea of dating... put me in the Czech Republic and i'd be freely participating in ****** any day... this stiffening date-culture never appealed to me, it always felt like a divorce before a marriage: so no amorous fun with body but fun in making out in cordiality of being fully dressed and lapping palettes up with tongue rather than the ******** as if throwing a coconut at Robinson Crusoe? yes?! ah crap... point towards the Zulu clan, i just feel the need to strip naked.* yeah, i believe in meow-meow land, that's the country next to la-la-land... where you're trying to sterilise yourself in terms of organic historicity and integrate yourself in terms of inorganic sterilisation via importing alien values to hush the monogamy crescendo of failure. with the irish telling you: ain't no english... and with scots you shout back: there's no thing as to be treated impossible whether in thought about or moved! the irish want you to have a coarse enough accent as them so you can be belittled... i always favoured the scots, warm-hearted ******** and i too the first hairy-shinned trans-gender kilt loving twirly girl of a music box of cherry tree cheaply picked Muzak for the thrills of shopping for cardigans and pineapples.
0
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 7:30 PM UTC
change of tactic
I am either an untameable fountain Or a drowsy puddle I am either a stormy ocean Or an abandoned pond I am either screaming at your face Or sitting in the corner hiding my face in my hands I am either talking so much you can't understand a word Or not answering your questions I am either hyper and twirly Or so tired that I don't care about anything I am either talking so much **** you wish I couldn't talk Or not talking at all I am either full of positivity and power Or like a lifeless shell of my body I am either sure I want to die Or afraid of its possibility I am either a fighter Or a loser On some days I am the one On some days I am the other There is no in-between
0
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 3:38 AM UTC
No in-between
Twirly Swirly Whirly soft as a willow wisp glides Lift Shift Drift Into the air they slide
0
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
Willow Wisp
Well... I heard it from Pookie Who's real tight with Sookie You know 'cuz They're twins 'n all And they're both from the neighborhood When it all went down, guess they seen it too Eyewitnesses times four You know 'cuz They two got a pair of blinkers You know --peepers! Oculus instruments You know ... These! (Wink wink hint hint) Brown eyed, blue bright Or "whatever you say Iris!" She was the one with the twirly hair And the swirly speech Rollin' up on all of her You know ... Gelatinous gelatina **** Rubberneckin' Don't mess with this! "Uh huh" "Nah ah, oh no she didn't ..." Throwing ghetto out her mouth Talkin about. yo mama So PHAT (Pretty Hot & Tempting) For a rotisserie or deep fried in Crisco... And you know If the chicken heads are plucky and loud Clucking chis-miss rumors About How she did done killed her molester "Down that poor dirt road" "I can still hear the gospel sang, the surrounding churches' Southern love to be loud, wafting With the breeze through the long grass Walking, closer to home, a hush... Back when we folk were shiny skinned With sweat of Summers' Lovin Or late night lullaby in' ... Baby's lil babe She said he couldn't fall to sleep Until this Final one" When it all went Smack! Talking for no reason now (Just wanna be heard) Throwing shade in the hot shadows Her hollering voice Reciting not laws but what's right for sho'. A weeping willow A peacock A desperate clarinet cry Look here now ! Don't miss out ! And that was when Pookie & Sooky Took home mama Mook, Who's complaining like Chubacca Furry as the Wookie Drunk as the fish in Tequila Seas... But whatever battle she took to words In the shadow of Bars brawls and loss of conscience, Everyone here / neighbors hear The hoods we're in She said the clouds! in the sky "They was the lot of them throwing most heinous shade!" And whatever You took from that there blathering Wagging tongues Talking smack. (That's on you)... *In the dim domain of drank and diggitty They carry the haunch away* Three shadow figures one is itchin' at her arm... Smack Throwing Shade.
0
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC
THROWING SHADE (performance Art)
Well... I heard it from Pookie Who's real tight with Sookie You know 'cuz They're twins 'n all And they're both from the neighborhood When it all went down, guess they seen it too Eyewitnesses times four You know 'cuz They two got a pair of blinkers You know --peepers! Oculus instruments You know ... These! (Wink wink hint hint) Brown eyed, blue bright Or "whatever you say Iris!" She was the one with the twirly hair And the swirly speech Rollin' up on all of her You know ... Gelatinous gelatina **** Rubberneckin' Don't mess with this! "Uh huh" "Nah ah, oh no she didn't ..." Throwing ghetto out her mouth Talkin about. yo mama So PHAT (Pretty Hot & Tempting) For a rotisserie or deep fried in Crisco... And you know If the chicken heads are plucky and loud Clucking chis-miss rumors About How she did done killed her molester "Down that poor dirt road" "I can still hear the gospel sang, the surrounding churches' Southern love to be loud, wafting With the breeze through the long grass Walking, closer to home, a hush... Back when we folk were shiny skinned With sweat of Summers' Lovin Or late night lullaby in' ... Baby's lil babe She said he couldn't fall to sleep Until this Final one" When it all went Smack! Talking for no reason now (Just wanna be heard) Throwing shade in the hot shadows Her hollering voice Reciting not laws but what's right for sho'. A weeping willow A peacock A desperate clarinet cry Look here now ! Don't miss out ! And that was when Pookie & Sooky Took home mama Mook, Who's complaining like Chubacca Furry as the Wookie Drunk as the fish in Tequila Seas... But whatever battle she took to words In the shadow of Bars brawls and loss of conscience, Everyone here / neighbors hear The hoods we're in She said the clouds! in the sky "They was the lot of them throwing most heinous shade!" And whatever You took from that there blathering Wagging tongues Talking smack. (That's on you)... *In the dim domain of drank and diggitty They carry the haunch away* Three shadow figures one is itchin' at her arm... Smack Throwing Shade.
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77
to whoever is lucky to love her next… she will cry. sometimes she will feel like crap with no explanation and she doesn’t owe you one. just hold her and let her cry, kiss away her tears. you will never worry about her criticizing you because she makes you feel like castle. she will always be there for you, she will kiss you and love you even when you are hard to love. she will doubt herself and cry, don’t let her go away. remind her that she is smart and capable of great things. she will do great things. she will complain about the snowy paleness of her skin and the striking blue veins that spread across her skin like lightning. she will be pleased when she loses a couple of pounds of her beautiful curves in her body. do not encourage her, do not get angry. love her. you will never worry whether she is smarter than you, you just know she is. to this day, she is still the most intelligent girl i’ve ever met. she takes aliens very seriously. if you’re with her, you’re probably a believer too. watch the night sky with her and watch her eyes light up with excitement when a star falls. she doesn’t realize that they fall for her. there will be days where she binge watches a show, or cannot stop listening to a song. if you love her, watch the show. listen to the song. join her while she is doing her favourite things. she will remember it. her kindness is one of her best qualities but remind her that she is strong and cannot be pushed around. she has a voice, she will be heard when she feels sad and gloomy, always try music. dance with her, swing her around in her favourite twirly dresses and bring her close. she’s a beautiful dancer. she has storms in her eyes and the waves crashing will make you realize that home doesn’t always have a roof and a doorway, but two eyes and a beating heart. so for god sakes, do not break her heart. do not ever ******* break her heart because if you were lucky enough to be loved by her , you don’t need anything else
0
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
her pt2
to whoever is lucky to love her next… she will cry. sometimes she will feel like crap with no explanation and she doesn’t owe you one. just hold her and let her cry, kiss away her tears. you will never worry about her criticizing you because she makes you feel like castle. she will always be there for you, she will kiss you and love you even when you are hard to love. she will doubt herself and cry, don’t let her go away. remind her that she is smart and capable of great things. she will do great things. she will complain about the snowy paleness of her skin and the striking blue veins that spread across her skin like lightning. she will be pleased when she loses a couple of pounds of her beautiful curves in her body. do not encourage her, do not get angry. love her. you will never worry whether she is smarter than you, you just know she is. to this day, she is still the most intelligent girl i’ve ever met. she takes aliens very seriously. if you’re with her, you’re probably a believer too. watch the night sky with her and watch her eyes light up with excitement when a star falls. she doesn’t realize that they fall for her. there will be days where she binge watches a show, or cannot stop listening to a song. if you love her, watch the show. listen to the song. join her while she is doing her favourite things. she will remember it. her kindness is one of her best qualities but remind her that she is strong and cannot be pushed around. she has a voice, she will be heard when she feels sad and gloomy, always try music. dance with her, swing her around in her favourite twirly dresses and bring her close. she’s a beautiful dancer. she has storms in her eyes and the waves crashing will make you realize that home doesn’t always have a roof and a doorway, but two eyes and a beating heart. so for god sakes, do not break her heart. do not ever ******* break her heart because if you were lucky enough to be loved by her , you don’t need anything else
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12
the mean streets bid me ado as i waddle waddle waddle up the twirly stairs to my girlfriends house down the rickety ones to my boyfriends Alas! a girl with bop-it stops me mid way i thought maybe she wanted some of my cigarette but of course this twisted little one had nightmares pouring out her ears today on the mean streets i met satan and she's a pretty little girl with a lot to say
0
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
Untitled
Everybody knows the ending to this game, Save yourself the effort you seedy ****** up freak, Its clear to me were broken not the ******* same, This **** gets old and they fall read hard hiding secrets that they keep. How can **** that hurts be so beautifully magic, Its a shame how low I can go its awful and so tragic.Created a safe zone hide when they go out, This is a story I wrote and y'all of figured who about, Fair is what u give back but add some fairy glitter, Smile when u see haters starring oh so bitter, Jealousy is your crown you wear what u create, I choose to love my twirly road u chose u sit with hate. Judgement day belongs to god so know where u belong, Karma is a little **** where did It all go wrong..
0
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 7:39 AM UTC
Toxic lost road of love hate and madness
left aligned                                                                              middle middle                                                                                                                                                                             ish     "Jim the fish" just T H I N K I N G and swaying to the twirly of this planet                                                                                       i wish i could hear                                                                 the ****** of the stones                               that for some crazy reason     you threw at me when we were sitting on a log and talking i loved talking to you still do
0
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
???