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"unstuck" poems
Well I drive the speed limit, When I'm on the blacktop, Because ya ain't gonna know, If yer gettin eyeballed by the cops. When I see the gravel, Comin' up around the bend, I turn the corner, hit the gas, And my tires start to spin. I get my get 'em up stuck, In my pickup truck. The gravel gets my guages, goin' up, up, up. In my pickup truck, Ain't no slowin' me down. I love my pickup truck, Kickin' up dust clouds. If it's rainin', you're complainin', About the mud and the muck, But ya know that I'll be playin, In my pickup truck. I get my get 'em up stuck, In my pickup truck. The mud gets my guages, goin' up, up, up. In my pickup truck, Ain't no slowin' me down. I love my pickup truck, Throwin mud around. When your rollin' around, On the ice and in the snow Sittin' in the ditch, your car don't wanna go. Who's the one ya call, To get ya unstuck, Ring-a-ding-a-ling-a-ling, Ya need my pickup truck. I get my get 'em up stuck, In my pickup truck. The winter gets my guages, goin' up, up, up. In my pickup truck, Ain't no slowin' me down. I love my pickup truck, Haulin' people 'round, Time to move is here, And I back up to your door. Packing out your things, Until my truck can't fit no more. I get my get 'em up stuck, In my pickup truck. Helpin' friends gets my guages, goin' up, up, up. In my pickup truck, Ain't no slowin' me down. I love my pickup truck, Helpin' friends movin' 'cross town I can't get enough, Of my pickup truck. If I had to do without it, then my life would **** Ya know my life would **** Without my pickup truck. I would feel like half a man, Without my pickup truck.
0
Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 4:55 PM UTC
My Pickup Truck
Well I drive the speed limit, When I'm on the blacktop, Because ya ain't gonna know, If yer gettin eyeballed by the cops. When I see the gravel, Comin' up around the bend, I turn the corner, hit the gas, And my tires start to spin. I get my get 'em up stuck, In my pickup truck. The gravel gets my guages, goin' up, up, up. In my pickup truck, Ain't no slowin' me down. I love my pickup truck, Kickin' up dust clouds. If it's rainin', you're complainin', About the mud and the muck, But ya know that I'll be playin, In my pickup truck. I get my get 'em up stuck, In my pickup truck. The mud gets my guages, goin' up, up, up. In my pickup truck, Ain't no slowin' me down. I love my pickup truck, Throwin mud around. When your rollin' around, On the ice and in the snow Sittin' in the ditch, your car don't wanna go. Who's the one ya call, To get ya unstuck, Ring-a-ding-a-ling-a-ling, Ya need my pickup truck. I get my get 'em up stuck, In my pickup truck. The winter gets my guages, goin' up, up, up. In my pickup truck, Ain't no slowin' me down. I love my pickup truck, Haulin' people 'round, Time to move is here, And I back up to your door. Packing out your things, Until my truck can't fit no more. I get my get 'em up stuck, In my pickup truck. Helpin' friends gets my guages, goin' up, up, up. In my pickup truck, Ain't no slowin' me down. I love my pickup truck, Helpin' friends movin' 'cross town I can't get enough, Of my pickup truck. If I had to do without it, then my life would **** Ya know my life would **** Without my pickup truck. I would feel like half a man, Without my pickup truck.
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64
Stand up on top of your castle Watch all the pretty lights dance Come down to join in the party Trip out and dance Lucy makes everyone happy But confused The outside world is fun one But inside There's a whole nother fun you can use Psychedelics will open your mind To the world outside and the one within Which are both seperate and the same You can't just be focused on the outside, The pretty things, The fame Inside it is beautiful, Spiritual Quiet and secluded With too much outside Your brain can get deluded X and acid, TCB DXM and DMT **** and ***** All the drugs you use Can be abused That bass can make you lose your mind Go blind With all the bright lights Until your mind's not the only thing you can't find Unwind Sit inside Zack's truck And take some down time Get your mind unstuck This place is beautiful These people are trippin But if I see one more hot *** I'm gonna lose my loose grip and ****** is not sexuality Peace, Love, Unity, Respect Help you out when you need it What's given out is given back Aesthetic is a beautiful but overwhelming experience.
0
Jun 20, 2010
Jun 20, 2010 at 8:51 PM UTC
Aesthetic
aerial ladder truck, amok, amuck, awestruck, bad luck, black buck, black duck, bruck, buc, buck, by luck, canuck, chuck, cluck, cold duck, collet chuck, cruck, dabbling duck, delivery truck, diving duck, donald duck, druck, duc, duck, duk, dumbstruck, dump truck, dumptruck, fire truck, fish duck, fishbach, fluck, fslic, garbage truck, garden truck, get stuck, give **** gluck, good luck, grucche, guck, hand truck, hockey puck, huck, hucke, icing the puck, ill luck, kachuck, kluck, kruck, kruk, kuc, kuck, kuk, ladder truck, lake duck, lame duck, laundry truck, luck, lucke, luk, mandarin duck, megabuck, moonstruck, mruk, muck, musk duck, naugatuck, nuque, panel truck, pickup truck, pluck, potluck, puck, queer duck, raybuck, roebuck, ruck, ruddy duck, schmuck, schtik, schuch, schuck, sculk, sea duck, shmuck, shuck, sitting duck, smuck, snuck, sound truck, starbuck, starstruck, struck, stuck, stucke, suc, **** suk, summer duck, thunderstruck, trailer truck, truck, tuck, tuque, unstuck, vhsic, wild duck, wnuk, wood duck, woodchuck, wruck, young buck,chuck-a-luck, yuck, yuk, zuck, zuk
0
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
Words and phrases that rhyme with ****
Prologue casual glance at my notifications while driving even though I’m all ready a bad bad boy, cruising at a sedate, cruise-controlled 70 mph  vs. the bureaucrat bifocals 55, a remnant regulation of the Eighties, all the while humming with Gilligan “a 3 hour tour, 2 passengers set sail that day” then execute a four lane 180, gotta get highway sideway grassed , cause i’m gassed... by a Poem Breach of the poems promised by me, to write of thee, you, my best inspiration, the list grows longer, faster than the hours provided pull over fast emergency for my composure breached, my vision wetted, my eyes hit by an unplanned unexpected, sudden summer thunderstorm <•> The Poem Breach ***once more into the breach thy words breeze through my chest, like on a flamed stick, night roasting, toasting beach summer marshmallows, that cut direct to the ineffable sadness that resides resists within, that sticky, white mess, a human heart melting a thank you message that I’ve read before, many times more than once, how my unasked poem, a sun unique, arrived at the precise time and place, to lift and even save, how could I’ve know? I did not know but these messages collect on my chest, unsought words of purple ribbon metal that make a less burdened cowardly lion, grown man cry, do crazy things for it is a possible solution to his age old quest Why do I exist, is this my purposed plan, don’t understand, all but the answer peaked and peaceful accepted in the breach unreasoned, my port of entry, a gateway to the scales, a bridge it is, over a time-life river styx and unstuck, yet certainly always confused...*** “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” thank you so insufficient
0
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC
that poem breach
Prologue casual glance at my notifications while driving even though I’m all ready a bad bad boy, cruising at a sedate, cruise-controlled 70 mph  vs. the bureaucrat bifocals 55, a remnant regulation of the Eighties, all the while humming with Gilligan “a 3 hour tour, 2 passengers set sail that day” then execute a four lane 180, gotta get highway sideway grassed , cause i’m gassed... by a Poem Breach of the poems promised by me, to write of thee, you, my best inspiration, the list grows longer, faster than the hours provided pull over fast emergency for my composure breached, my vision wetted, my eyes hit by an unplanned unexpected, sudden summer thunderstorm <•> The Poem Breach ***once more into the breach thy words breeze through my chest, like on a flamed stick, night roasting, toasting beach summer marshmallows, that cut direct to the ineffable sadness that resides resists within, that sticky, white mess, a human heart melting a thank you message that I’ve read before, many times more than once, how my unasked poem, a sun unique, arrived at the precise time and place, to lift and even save, how could I’ve know? I did not know but these messages collect on my chest, unsought words of purple ribbon metal that make a less burdened cowardly lion, grown man cry, do crazy things for it is a possible solution to his age old quest Why do I exist, is this my purposed plan, don’t understand, all but the answer peaked and peaceful accepted in the breach unreasoned, my port of entry, a gateway to the scales, a bridge it is, over a time-life river styx and unstuck, yet certainly always confused...*** “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” thank you so insufficient
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46
sail boats and oceans and really anything that floats and carries a person far away in a big body of water I don’t think I have to say why it’s obvious I’m sure everyone has a thing for sail boats and oceans I like busses too I seem to get really impatient on them, and I like that a lot because I know I can’t do anything about it it’s a game of Will I Go Crazy Or Will I Have A Snooze? I like being stuck between being stuck and being unstuck one day I want to sit on a bus for 24 hours and see what happens (I will be doing a lot of that in the month of October) I’ll bring books, my iPod and movies to watch on my laptop but I’ll probably just stare out the window hours on end tall buildings will turn into blurry trees and blurry trees will turn into pixilated neon canola crops and there’ll be cows and ponies and one long road to Montreal then Toronto then who the **** knows where because I am already dreading going home after the trip even though I haven’t left for the trip yet it’s months to come I have a thing for finding a new home everywhere I go but I never find one I like the process of looking for a really long time then giving up from discouragement and sad feelings of abandonment stemmed from my childhood daddy issues I’m pretty sure everyone has daddy-abandonment issues I have a thing for assuming every one has the same problems that I do but it turns out that there are loads of girls that like to eat lots and don’t feel ashamed of the extra scoop of double fudge ice cream and there are teenagers that get along with their fathers and look up to them they go out for lunches and joke about dates and fix cars and tell their little girls they’ll always be their little girls and go on awkward shopping sprees and barbecue but everyone has a thing for sail boats and water we all want to escape our eating disorder and drinking problem a skinny body or a bulky body bad grades and perfectionism the people pleasing pushovers fathers and mothers and old european traditions family dinners that go perfectly and are so boring because of it the fragility of feeling unique the arrogance of feeling unique the lack of faith in ourselves being alone
0
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC
I have a thing for
sail boats and oceans and really anything that floats and carries a person far away in a big body of water I don’t think I have to say why it’s obvious I’m sure everyone has a thing for sail boats and oceans I like busses too I seem to get really impatient on them, and I like that a lot because I know I can’t do anything about it it’s a game of Will I Go Crazy Or Will I Have A Snooze? I like being stuck between being stuck and being unstuck one day I want to sit on a bus for 24 hours and see what happens (I will be doing a lot of that in the month of October) I’ll bring books, my iPod and movies to watch on my laptop but I’ll probably just stare out the window hours on end tall buildings will turn into blurry trees and blurry trees will turn into pixilated neon canola crops and there’ll be cows and ponies and one long road to Montreal then Toronto then who the **** knows where because I am already dreading going home after the trip even though I haven’t left for the trip yet it’s months to come I have a thing for finding a new home everywhere I go but I never find one I like the process of looking for a really long time then giving up from discouragement and sad feelings of abandonment stemmed from my childhood daddy issues I’m pretty sure everyone has daddy-abandonment issues I have a thing for assuming every one has the same problems that I do but it turns out that there are loads of girls that like to eat lots and don’t feel ashamed of the extra scoop of double fudge ice cream and there are teenagers that get along with their fathers and look up to them they go out for lunches and joke about dates and fix cars and tell their little girls they’ll always be their little girls and go on awkward shopping sprees and barbecue but everyone has a thing for sail boats and water we all want to escape our eating disorder and drinking problem a skinny body or a bulky body bad grades and perfectionism the people pleasing pushovers fathers and mothers and old european traditions family dinners that go perfectly and are so boring because of it the fragility of feeling unique the arrogance of feeling unique the lack of faith in ourselves being alone
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58
Stuck. You're stuck. So that must mean I am too. I don't want to be stuck. My love for you grows More and more each day. But I can never stay stuck. Stuck. I was stuck. Long before I met you. I didn't want to be stuck then, And I don't now. Trapped within a Disgustingly thick, slimy stuck I worked my way deep in to find Nothing but more unruly muck. Stuck. I'm only halfway stuck. But you're all the way stuck. I'm not going back in. I'll suffocate again, Lose myself and become The demon that attaches to My weakening soul like The grotesque parasite it is. You can stay stuck all you want But you'll never find me down there While you wallow around in your Muddled conceptions of yourself. Stuck. Yeah, right. But I'll be here At the edge of the muck Waiting to help you out When you get unstuck.
0
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
Stuck
I want to move on, But I am stuck. Stuck on the memories. Stuck on what could've been. Stuck on wondering what went wrong. Stuck on wondering what more I could've done. I am stuck on the way you made me laugh. I am stuck on the way you held my hand. I am stuck on the way you held me in your arms, as we gazed up at the stars on a cold December night. I am stuck on our roadtrips and our perfectly imperfect duets. I am stuck on who you empowered and encouraged me to be. I am stuck on how you made me feel and who you were when I was falling in love. Now, I see you, And every time I do, My heart breaks all over. I see you talk to everyone else in the room, and bit by bit I fall apart inside. I see you with other girls, encouraging them the way you did me at the beginning. I see you moving on, completely unstuck, Completely unphased by the torment I am in. You made me genuinely happy. Happier than I've ever been. And I can choose to be joyful and patient and kind and humble and good, But happiness is stuck in the past with you.
0
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 12:06 AM UTC
Stuck
I'm stuck in a rut I don't know what to write I'm stuck in a rut I don't think I'm going to win this fight I'm stuck in a rut with nowhere to go I'm stuck in a rut and I just don't know I'm stuck in a rut no friends to help out I'm stuck in a rut but too proud to pout I'm stuck in a rut but I can't make me frown I'm stuck in a rut 100 miles down I'm stuck in a rut just going to contemplate a while I'm stuck in a rut but you're just going to see my smile I'm stuck in a rut But guess what, I wrote I'm unstuck from this rut As I end this on a positive note
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Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 12:04 PM UTC
Stuck in a rut
Chapped lips carry a searing burn in memory of your scalding kisses So thus they ache and yearn throbbing in agonizing reminiscence As we sought the key that might unstuck the hallowed steel floodgates of our innocence We found instead a stroke of bittersweet luck in respect, I vowed to resist my own appetence I meet you here in the overgrown tangle of garden that once nurtured what I let fall to waste Under the pale moonlight laden in pardon that I beg from you as I crave another taste Smashing my precious memories shattering my gears Now I beg mercy of my former self as she caves to icy fears.
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Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 12:11 AM UTC
Annabelle
I saw the devil lips she kissed, Too bad it's mine she missed. Sometimes it comes like the morning mist or forever, it seems, time will tick. Love is blind, or so they say, When it calls it's by some delay. Mostly it stays far away, Even if tomorrow's an all new day. I saw the fiery hand she touched, With him she gets some luck. Down the road, she finds its muck, For she's in too deep to be unstuck. She thought my tired hands didn't mind, To hold and only to be too kind. But, now, I'm not so inclined To stand by and be nickel and dimed.
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Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 4:29 AM UTC
Nickel and Dimed
today is one of those days when i come unstuck at the seams of where i am joined to myself they split open with a *pop* *pop* *pop* and so there is a hole nobody knows about --not one that hurts but one that is sure to sear my dreams tonight - Vijayalakshmi Harish    26.06.2013    Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
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Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 5:07 AM UTC
Split Wide Open
. Seems that I'm spending most of my time down at the Karaoke King. Under more normal circumstances I wouldn't even say a thing.(But...) I need to invest some more time in me or I'll never become a star, because I've sunk a pretty penny just pimpin' out my car. And this Mississippi mud is even bogging down my truck, and if I don't keep it rockin' I may never get unstuck. Success always comes from hard, hard work it never comes to you from afar. Would you please remind me tonight to change the strings on my air guitar? And I've been too tired to dance with my own silhouette. I just want a house out in the country, and a brand new black Corvette. My future's slowly rising, it shouldn't take me long. You see, this stage has been my home and this here's my new song! I need to invest some more time in me or I'll never become a star, because I've sunk a pretty penny   just pimpin' out my car. And this Mississippi mud is even boggin' down my truck, and if I don't keep it rockin' I may never get unstuck. Wont you help me, please; won't you help me? Because I want to be a star. Just do me a favor and remind me tonight to change the strings on my air guitar. Please do me a favor and remind me tonight... to change the strings on my air guitar. .
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Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 9:46 PM UTC
~Air Guitar ♥
How can I begin to wonder about life further on when all I see is a poor man continually struggling on How does a person seek riches when thy neighbor is down on their luck How can I look towards the years of me without coming unstuck These shoulders I bare thoughts upon lay heavy full of guilt To think I once had everything from what once I had built A fine man I used to be until they came The people in body armor struck, it was a day of raw emotion and downfall Of a man with everything who ended with nothing A life that was but seemed a dream We die the same with the last tear in our eyes Oh lord please take me now I am ready to fly.
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Sep 8, 2022
Sep 8, 2022 at 4:32 AM UTC
Lay Heavy
If this hallmark of a romantic gift I give is a bit fumbled, and its professions of heartfelt wishes feel slack in their graham-cracker-box repackaging; If the candy-coated wrapper’s fit is left misfitting around its dented-in red corners, and the lippiness of its stick has come unstuck at each crushed-down end; If the pink bow stands unbowed and frowns as unpretty as any crime-scene picture, while it raises a frayed end with the victim’s gone-through motion entreating death for its last tug free; It could be my feeling heart’s once-bold youth isn't entirely found in it, or it could be the entirety bound in it, my heart, couldn’t find its way out.
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Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 9:03 AM UTC
My Valentine gift to you
how is it that months later I'm still stuck to you no speaking, nothing, I'm stuck to you I haven't seen your face yet im stuck to you and my heart can't calm down because I'm stuck to you I want nothing more than to be unstuck from you but I can't let you go, I'm stuck to you
0
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 1:58 AM UTC
stuck
DRY your eye- Man, dry your eye! The sun will rise from the night sky. Stop your noise! Man! stop your noise! Young bluds don't sleep they'll hear your voice You can't vent! trust! You cant vent Cause I was taught in Torment to bottle my chest of melodies- Dry your eye. Head up! Look head up! Over the blocks get unstuck Fix up, fix up. No gutter now On this plush planets crown See me ! it's this silvery note That cures the bad mans gloat Dry your eye ! Man dry your eye ! The sun will rise from the night sky. Bless, Bless, I'm out, Bless I'm gone in the overcast grey- Bless, Bless !
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Jul 21, 2011
Jul 21, 2011 at 4:51 AM UTC
Pigeon song
You feel uninteresting Unappealing Want to get unstuck You strive to be part of a larger entity But you sit and watch
0
Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 8:42 PM UTC
Untitled
I've clawed my way up Dug myself out Rising above Because that's what it's about. So many twists And so many turns Life is what you make it You get what you earn Paths can be taken Roads can be avoided Choices will be made And mistakes exploited If you go all in Be prepared for all out Prepare for battle And struggles with doubt What if's and could be's Are destroyers of life And what you cling to In moments of strife Where do you go When the rungs of your ladder break? Do you fight to continue Or give up what's at stake? Where there's a will there's a way There's no such thing as luck Better think of a way To get yourself unstuck Think around the problem Try to climb but fall Close your eyes and relax And listen to their call There's nothing but light And a deafening sound again They tell you you're alright And medicate the pain But something more is going on Something no one can fix They think it's an excuse, An old dog learning new tricks No one can explain Or pinpoint what's wrong There's no comfort or escape Just the murderous melody of a song A destructive tune That constantly plays Growing and taunting A little more each day "You tried and you failed" The evil notes jest "You can't make it Even if you try your best" The voices sing on Like a chorus in your head Causing you to shrivel And wish you were dead The what if's and could be's Come back and linger And you can't ask for help No one would lift a finger Exhausted and exposed You sit in the dark Playing with pills From thoughts previously sparked Tired of thinking You want your mind at rest You try to fight but fail Even though you try your best...
0
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
The Ladder of Life
I've clawed my way up Dug myself out Rising above Because that's what it's about. So many twists And so many turns Life is what you make it You get what you earn Paths can be taken Roads can be avoided Choices will be made And mistakes exploited If you go all in Be prepared for all out Prepare for battle And struggles with doubt What if's and could be's Are destroyers of life And what you cling to In moments of strife Where do you go When the rungs of your ladder break? Do you fight to continue Or give up what's at stake? Where there's a will there's a way There's no such thing as luck Better think of a way To get yourself unstuck Think around the problem Try to climb but fall Close your eyes and relax And listen to their call There's nothing but light And a deafening sound again They tell you you're alright And medicate the pain But something more is going on Something no one can fix They think it's an excuse, An old dog learning new tricks No one can explain Or pinpoint what's wrong There's no comfort or escape Just the murderous melody of a song A destructive tune That constantly plays Growing and taunting A little more each day "You tried and you failed" The evil notes jest "You can't make it Even if you try your best" The voices sing on Like a chorus in your head Causing you to shrivel And wish you were dead The what if's and could be's Come back and linger And you can't ask for help No one would lift a finger Exhausted and exposed You sit in the dark Playing with pills From thoughts previously sparked Tired of thinking You want your mind at rest You try to fight but fail Even though you try your best...
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68
Cracked an eye, still a smooth blanket of dark. Glue unstuck, the pebbles tumble to my brain and scoot and sing across a caffeine urge, simple movement, groggy knowledge. Urination, caffeinated, contacts in, rockslide. The inner bump and stumble, never slowing, Dead awake.
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Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 6:48 PM UTC
Dead Awake, Dead Tired
I'll say it now and I've said it before; the best book I've ever read is about the paradoxes of war. A friend asked a question, then added "But spare me the lecture." I told him the best book I've ever read was about architecture. An alien sent a question from his head telepathically to mine, So I thought of that book I once read of a man unstuck in time. (If the title was placed here, it would just almost rhyme) Near Betelgeuse, I picked up a man in need of a ride I asked where he was headed, and he said, "Nowhere in mind." He had a book with him. It was some sort of guide. I once kicked the crap around with a young kid in a hat. He looked down at my hands and said, "Hey, what's that?" I told him it was a book full of phonies and jerks. He nodded, then lit a cigarette. There was blood on his shirt A man once recited, Word for word, A book I recognized after having heard. I said, "That's my favorite!" And he gave me a look. The best book I've ever read was about burning books. I once played God, and gave a dead thing new life, But it was so grotesque that I had to run away and hide. A tormented and wretched human imitation. Made me think of a book about a man tortured by his own creation. One time I was reading a book above mentioned, When a man came up to me and asked a most impertinent question. He said, "I see you reading all the time, but have you ever read the greatest book of all time?" I glared at him and said, "No I have not, but I've heard much about it. It's a very popular book, but I do without it." He said I should reconsider. That it's not one to pass. I told him to take that **** book, and shove it up his ***
0
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 12:17 AM UTC
Allusions
I'll say it now and I've said it before; the best book I've ever read is about the paradoxes of war. A friend asked a question, then added "But spare me the lecture." I told him the best book I've ever read was about architecture. An alien sent a question from his head telepathically to mine, So I thought of that book I once read of a man unstuck in time. (If the title was placed here, it would just almost rhyme) Near Betelgeuse, I picked up a man in need of a ride I asked where he was headed, and he said, "Nowhere in mind." He had a book with him. It was some sort of guide. I once kicked the crap around with a young kid in a hat. He looked down at my hands and said, "Hey, what's that?" I told him it was a book full of phonies and jerks. He nodded, then lit a cigarette. There was blood on his shirt A man once recited, Word for word, A book I recognized after having heard. I said, "That's my favorite!" And he gave me a look. The best book I've ever read was about burning books. I once played God, and gave a dead thing new life, But it was so grotesque that I had to run away and hide. A tormented and wretched human imitation. Made me think of a book about a man tortured by his own creation. One time I was reading a book above mentioned, When a man came up to me and asked a most impertinent question. He said, "I see you reading all the time, but have you ever read the greatest book of all time?" I glared at him and said, "No I have not, but I've heard much about it. It's a very popular book, but I do without it." He said I should reconsider. That it's not one to pass. I told him to take that **** book, and shove it up his ***
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37
i don't write anymore when i am alone (and i am mostly alone) i spit at myself and it does not stick i'm a cruel and spiteful host i grew up in a suitcase so when winter comes i pack my things. get ready. get ready on the edge of the bed i wait for it i don't have time to spare anymore when i am alone i want nothing more than this low hum in my ears remind me pick up the leaves from the ground, oh god, and pack them bring them with you i'm a cruel and selfish god (i grew up stuck with unstuck roots) and i don't write anymore pick up the seeds from my hands, oh god i don't have time for them anymore (i'll never learn to plant them and they'll never stick not really)
0
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
russian thistle
Make-believe multiverses written in the Rain Petrichor        Ichor        Blood of (my) gods Congeal. Thick. Rich, putrid poultry pan                                                                         opticon                                                                         theon The bigger I am the smaller I am, King of nutshells, In ambition I beg--beggar butcher Kingly kind **** beggar--look In, give in, cave out implosion (my)   God demands sacrifice; copper liquid spills, fresh,                                  Replace                                                old blood                                                                 Regicide,                                                      Warm                                        running                                  red                          over                 Mars, Vallies of dead bones they Make a noise (crunch) like Nutshells Eggshells                  White emaciated pale weathered withered                  wothered wondered want I want I wont ...     A  L I L Y  S T A N D S In  v a n i t y  v a l l e y G r e e n blue v i o l e t T r e m b l i n g I--I am Cold        I can't feel my hands. I rush rash rip stem And all Timeless life                      Look how it not dies in my hands.                        Look                                I can't see Unstuck by time trapped In this eternity, make-believe, Flower fickle, it is A sentinel robbed of its post, Eons past will pass before decay, L I L Y ' S  F A I T H --Can't Let go of this moment, just Let it die in peace, In v a n i t y  v a l l e y Of bones dry dying... When I wake up I see a man Whose hands are open and eyes Are free to wander. He is royalty--a royal beggar, A dry flower pierces His heart--it rains                                River                                          run red                                                       with                                                               orange juice sun Squeeze. His hands on his sides. On sand and seashells. Open valley, horrible horizon. Celestial cosmos ocean sky is That it? Is that me? Do I raise my hands or f                                           a                                             l                                              l                                               To the ground. Beg. Where are my gods? This Sun is too bright, I can't see. The cold. I blow breaths of smoke. Vapour vanish too Cold. I can't feel my hands. Go Back Inside.
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Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC
Untitled
Make-believe multiverses written in the Rain Petrichor        Ichor        Blood of (my) gods Congeal. Thick. Rich, putrid poultry pan                                                                         opticon                                                                         theon The bigger I am the smaller I am, King of nutshells, In ambition I beg--beggar butcher Kingly kind **** beggar--look In, give in, cave out implosion (my)   God demands sacrifice; copper liquid spills, fresh,                                  Replace                                                old blood                                                                 Regicide,                                                      Warm                                        running                                  red                          over                 Mars, Vallies of dead bones they Make a noise (crunch) like Nutshells Eggshells                  White emaciated pale weathered withered                  wothered wondered want I want I wont ...     A  L I L Y  S T A N D S In  v a n i t y  v a l l e y G r e e n blue v i o l e t T r e m b l i n g I--I am Cold        I can't feel my hands. I rush rash rip stem And all Timeless life                      Look how it not dies in my hands.                        Look                                I can't see Unstuck by time trapped In this eternity, make-believe, Flower fickle, it is A sentinel robbed of its post, Eons past will pass before decay, L I L Y ' S  F A I T H --Can't Let go of this moment, just Let it die in peace, In v a n i t y  v a l l e y Of bones dry dying... When I wake up I see a man Whose hands are open and eyes Are free to wander. He is royalty--a royal beggar, A dry flower pierces His heart--it rains                                River                                          run red                                                       with                                                               orange juice sun Squeeze. His hands on his sides. On sand and seashells. Open valley, horrible horizon. Celestial cosmos ocean sky is That it? Is that me? Do I raise my hands or f                                           a                                             l                                              l                                               To the ground. Beg. Where are my gods? This Sun is too bright, I can't see. The cold. I blow breaths of smoke. Vapour vanish too Cold. I can't feel my hands. Go Back Inside.
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79
In a preternatural stupor a dream seduced me to believe that out of sheer cosmic boredom infinity generates, this ever expanding universe all by itself, decided to turn inside out. Why not, I thought a great time indeed for us, at last, to see God play dice! Stars and planets came unstuck, dangling like ripe globular fruits or fancy lamps, hung from a ceiling, if you like while sky, the blue outer skin, that helped us to make some sense of the whole business of universe went completely missing, from our eye shot. Days and nights, what a happy anarchy! have no order with lot of colors thrown in between varying hours.
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Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 3:23 AM UTC
REVERSE UNIVERSE
Death is always in the room. Death was there when you were born, patiently standing behind the doctor as he first held you up and presented you to your mother, covered in filth and choking for air. Waiting. Death was there when you took your first steps, in case a truck were to go careening across your front lawn, in a freak accident, slamming through the front window and into the living room, ruining the kodak moment. Death was there for all the important events, and all the mundane ones: Looking on with your father while you learned to ride a bicycle. Hovering over midfield during every soccer practice. One row down from you in the orchard during the rainstorm when you had your first kiss. And death is still there now, one instant away from you, always prepared for that driver asleep at the wheel, for that blood clot come unstuck from the wall of your femoral artery, for that gunman suddenly bursting through your door. But that’s really the beautiful part of it all. Everything that's ever happened in your life, everything that mankind has ever accomplished, every crying newborn baby, every impossible feat of exploration achieved, Death was just an instant away— a shroud around the entire planet constantly abided and never broken through until the very end. Death is always in the room.
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Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 9:48 PM UTC
Death is Always in the Room
Fingernails claw at porcelain skin. Furiously they scratch and scour. Layer after layer I become unstuck. Unravelled. Undone. Picked at the seams. I dig and I dig. Hoping to find the piece of me you didn't like. Or the piece of you in me that keeps me awake at night. Nail on bone, I find ribcage. I find the remnants of my incarcerated heart. Too weak to set it free, I leave it there, barely beating. Helpless. Some things should never be unearthed.
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Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC
Scratch