"undiscover" poems
To **** or not to **** that’s the ******* question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the bowels to suffer
The twists and turns of outrageous rumblings
Or to take action against a bellyful of gas,
And by farting pump one out? To strain, to bloat
No more; and by a mighty outburst we’ll end
The gut’s ache, and the thousand natural stenches
That the **** is heir to, 'tis a resolution
Right devoutly to be wish'd. To **** to ****
But perchance to **** there's the ******* problem;
For in that mighty **** of doom what turds may come,
When we have let the little beauty out from mortal tail,
Must give us pause; there's the danger
That makes calamity of the farter’s life;
For who would bear the sneers and mocks of men,
The neighbour’s shock, the lover’s curling lip,
The pangs of horrid stench, the ******* o’erflowing,
The leaking **** orifice, and the drips,
Impatient strainings that the tragic farter makes,
When he himself might sweet easance make
With a careful prodding finger? Who would a ******** wear,
Grunting and sweating with noisome convulsions,
But that the dread of solids after air-release,
The undiscover'd oozings, from whose delivery
No toilet visitor recovers, puzzles the will,
And makes us bear the bellyache we have
Than fly to others we know not of?
Thus indigestion does make cowards of us all;
And then the native heave of constipation
Is sicklied o'er with the pale fear of defecation;
And enterprises of both ******* and crapping
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of exciting toilet action.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 2:25 PM UTC
Be it ever so elusive
Be it ever hard to gain
Be it ever one step further
Be it one more ounce of pain
Be it somewhat inconclusive
When I want to know for sure
It is still not so intrusive
When my dreams become a blur
For if I never stopped to wonder
If I never stopped to think
On each tough or tender morsel
On each sip of such I drink
How could I still undiscover
Such a dark, yet lovely truth
Sometimes we will grow much older
Reaching for the dreams of youth
I am ever so impatient
I can wait a few more years
I sustain myself with smiles
While I drown myself in tears
I look forward to tomorrow
As I’ve yet to seize the day
Every time I dare to reach out
Something always blocks my way
I’m so tired of being surrounded
I’m so tired of being alone
I’m so tired of being so tired
When I’m inspired to the bone
Such depth in shallow waters
How I soar with broken wings
Finding something in each nothing
As I tread the in-between
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 2:31 AM UTC
again your words garner tears
i am fought from within
between wretched smiles aching with the shame of words i've shared
listened to, copied, written, "shared"
and yet never truly shared
those doors are gone: i have shared
and one has listened, shining love as hot to bear as sun...
refracted in my tears the warmth
is as a solar flare of unexpected love--
distrusts flung of self for undeserving care,
i waver-wallow, sing another cracking grasp,
slurp my sniffle-ramen soup to comfort ten-year wounds
all open now, shining, wincing in the sun.
i would bare my bones, it seems,
in urgent need to stamp the world an honest love.
what have i waited for? better words to come and scare us into final sum?
a final balance done, as if a math could send us there?
where? where has the daylight gone and come?
how old this starlight sinking from
i try to laugh and fail,
giving fame another final finger-flipping off
as that one girl said once, long forgotten, "cradling
her last fledgling flying ****
and kissing it on to fated final flight"
yes. discovered now by one, i heal in single sun
i beg from those in shade or hurting from my blindest words a balm
a balm of knowing deep i seek to undiscover harm...
a balm of knowing deep the wholesome love of self that overflows to all...
Mokume told me, "love them" as i struggled with their hate,
he asked my love as to her love for me,
he asked me of my love i held for her--and which was more,
the love of self or love of her
and so i wavered in the meanings love has come to bear
while he taught stridently the meaning of Yoruba masks,
the bowl atop the symbol-studded head
the brims so overfull they shower all who look,
or dare to touch its bursting river-majesty
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
Could we forget the widow'd hour
And look on Spirits breathed away,
As on a maiden in the day
When first she wears her orange-flower!
When crown'd with blessing she doth rise
To take her latest leave of home,
And hopes and light regrets that come
Make April of her tender eyes;
And doubtful joys the father move,
And tears are on the mother's face,
As parting with a long embrace
She enters other realms of love;
Her office there to rear, to teach,
Becoming as is meet and fit
A link among the days, to knit
The generations each with each;
And, doubtless, unto thee is given
A life that bears immortal fruit
In those great offices that suit
The full-grown energies of heaven.
Ay me, the difference I discern!
How often shall her old fireside
Be cheer'd with tidings of the bride,
How often she herself return,
And tell them all they would have told,
And bring her babe, and make her boast,
Till even those that miss'd her most
Shall count new things as dear as old:
But thou and I have shaken hands,
Till growing winters lay me low;
My paths are in the fields I know,
And thine in undiscover'd lands.
917
Lets go.
Lets travel everywhere.
Discover the undiscover paradise
And unravel the beauty it hides.
Come on.
Lets us tour.
See and enjoy the wonder of nature
W/ a respect from its creator.
Hey.
Join me.
As, I travel from Atlantica to Antartica,
And to conquer America.
Cause life on Earth maybe difficult.
But it includes a free trip,
Under the heat of the sun.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 8:19 AM UTC
Limp, lifeless and longingly dry.
Like the packet of crumpets I lost to mould last week
The rot finds it place under my tongue.
I toy with ideas that maybe anger
Is the reason waves erode sandbanks
And the turbulent wind is why walls like us crumble...
T U R B U L A N C E
The ambiguity of what happens now rings loud and clear
As another fear added to a never ending list.
Professionals would have a field day and a whole new genre within me.
But that's conformity.
The cavern with which my mind resides is dark
Chaotic and violent to say the least.
Self preservation is a fantasised option only present in the books
Surfing the stale wind inside my mind.
If you wanted normality it's taken you two years to undiscover it.
I'll beg each and every second for you to never leave the park bench
That sits across from me staring at everything behind.
I'd give all my soul, dreams and whatever hopes I think I have
To know that you're going to stay in my mind with me forever.
I'd give my heart just to know that you'll stay mine forever.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
I don,t believe in god
Or the man in the sky
And if you listen closely
I,ll try to tell you why
I read about the things he did
To give us a better life
But how can I believe it's true
When there's so much trouble and strife
If I was god
For even just one day
And I could perform a miracle
I,d take all pain away
No one would starve
No one would die
No one would go hungry
No one would cry
No one would fight
No one would ****
We,d all have a place to live
There,d be no blood to spill
I,d undiscover the atom bomb
And nuclear weapon too
If I was god
This and more I,d do
So me being mr average
Just a mortal man
How can I believe in a god
Who does,nt when he can
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC