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Words
"verbal" poems
Imagine that I could write a salve, compose an ointment of verbal herbs to heal, even mere protect the already-torn-so-easy mental flesh, just to disguise/hide the multi-colored bruising our fickle mistress-in-common provides when you are down so far another bruise joining the cast like a  floodplain subsuming one more feeding creek bed into the shapelessness of indistinguishability imagine that where atoms hide eternal between creation and destruction, borrow brief the set exact you require to restore the taken years from fathers/mothers/brothers/sisters, children, return that which went unused by the uninvited, unseemly human whim of war and lies for no gain imagine that the deep sinkhole of despair that ***** one in, years in the formation, appearing in instance, and worse does not drowns but leaves helpless, unable to climb out, and all our scratching digs us in deeper until we cannot be, seen or heard or just be imagine that a check comes in the mail, payable left open for filling-in, in the amount of full restoration, with no additional fees of guilt needed for deposit and cashing/caching out: and you wake up and the stony chest is breathing lungs free imagine that and I do; for I am the smoke of return and rest, sky inscribing, knowing precise needs and the screams and the years unfair taken, they are screened through the five perceptions, and the word weaver sets the loom for each peculiar requisition, no imagination needed imagine that you lament and anger demand verifiable proofs mathematical, cursing the knights of false hopes with untethered regret I do not imagine that; hear it and accept; my task, imagine that, making you imagine that, thus commencement of repair begins when we imagine that for this how new healthy cells  are born quiet-now,  go, imagine-that, now*
0
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 1:02 PM UTC
smoke-scribe
imagine that
Imagine that I could write a salve, compose an ointment of verbal herbs to heal, even mere protect the already-torn-so-easy mental flesh, just to disguise/hide the multi-colored bruising our fickle mistress-in-common provides when you are down so far another bruise joining the cast like a  floodplain subsuming one more feeding creek bed into the shapelessness of indistinguishability imagine that where atoms hide eternal between creation and destruction, borrow brief the set exact you require to restore the taken years from fathers/mothers/brothers/sisters, children, return that which went unused by the uninvited, unseemly human whim of war and lies for no gain imagine that the deep sinkhole of despair that ***** one in, years in the formation, appearing in instance, and worse does not drowns but leaves helpless, unable to climb out, and all our scratching digs us in deeper until we cannot be, seen or heard or just be imagine that a check comes in the mail, payable left open for filling-in, in the amount of full restoration, with no additional fees of guilt needed for deposit and cashing/caching out: and you wake up and the stony chest is breathing lungs free imagine that and I do; for I am the smoke of return and rest, sky inscribing, knowing precise needs and the screams and the years unfair taken, they are screened through the five perceptions, and the word weaver sets the loom for each peculiar requisition, no imagination needed imagine that you lament and anger demand verifiable proofs mathematical, cursing the knights of false hopes with untethered regret I do not imagine that; hear it and accept; my task, imagine that, making you imagine that, thus commencement of repair begins when we imagine that for this how new healthy cells  are born quiet-now,  go, imagine-that, now*
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32
It’s not funny, you know It’s not a joke You laugh at me Until you choke I wish you did, I’d gladly watch You swallow your words Like you swallow your Scotch It’s not something That you can use For people to like you It’s verbal abuse You’re mocking me My everything How would you like it if I did the same thing? But I wouldn’t dare Because I know how it feels I’ll patiently wait Life is a rolling wheel Maybe one day soon You’ll be treated the same I’ll be long gone by then You’re the only one to blame.
0
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
liis-belle
Verbal Abuse
It’s not funny, you know It’s not a joke You laugh at me Until you choke I wish you did, I’d gladly watch You swallow your words Like you swallow your Scotch It’s not something That you can use For people to like you It’s verbal abuse You’re mocking me My everything How would you like it if I did the same thing? But I wouldn’t dare Because I know how it feels I’ll patiently wait Life is a rolling wheel Maybe one day soon You’ll be treated the same I’ll be long gone by then You’re the only one to blame.
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24
Light Color yourself indigo Go on i dare you too Sad but laughing buckets Cleaning the floor with light Oxy clean you are something Modern poetic verbal stumbling Left only to throw ***** shirts Into the closet - hurt my feelings See right through you
0
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
frances-lazarus-blackheart
Light august 21
Light Color yourself indigo Go on i dare you too Sad but laughing buckets Cleaning the floor with light Oxy clean you are something Modern poetic verbal stumbling Left only to throw ***** shirts Into the closet - hurt my feelings See right through you
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10
My friends describe me as a man of few verbal words. Funnily, the words are chosen poorly for someone who thinks so much about what a person should and shouldn't say. Last year, a classmate told me she would get at least three words out of me before our study group quit for the night. I responded,”You lose”.
0
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 12:20 AM UTC
mark-parker
I'm not shy, I'm purposefully mute.
My friends describe me as a man of few verbal words. Funnily, the words are chosen poorly for someone who thinks so much about what a person should and shouldn't say. Last year, a classmate told me she would get at least three words out of me before our study group quit for the night. I responded,”You lose”.
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10
We talked about fun A night of one and one Two adults out dating Not a lady-in-waiting. Two people holding hands, We didn’t have any plans Not saying words like never And always and forever. It’s an unwritten verbal contract With just the one signature. The expectancy of longevity Is more than a bit premature. It is important to recognize it When it’s all about fun and games. It keeps temperature from rising And avoids the calling of names. Then it all got turned around And quite suddenly I found There were rules for me to obey Like staying out too late in the day And things I had to do with you If I wanted to demonstrate I was true. It was no longer important to you It was not enough just loving you. It’s an unwritten verbal contract With just the one signature. The expectancy of longevity Is more than a bit premature. I am a prisoner in your heart When did my sentence start? How long will I have to serve? How did you get the nerve To change a delightful love affair Into something that would scare? Sorry, I have to call a halt You know it’s all your fault. It is important to recognize it When it’s all about fun and games. It keeps temperature from rising And avoids the calling of names. We only had a few short dates We barely made it to third base And yet the thing is totally shattered. You’re out looking at china patterns. There were no promises ever made. I do not mean to be throwing shade But this is not the thing I agreed upon Whatever we once had is now gone. It’s an unwritten verbal contract With just the one signature. The expectancy of longevity Is more than a bit premature. It is important to recognize it When it’s all about fun and games. It keeps temperature from rising And avoids the calling of names.
0
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 7:48 PM UTC
brent-kincaid
UNILATERAL COLLATERAL
We talked about fun A night of one and one Two adults out dating Not a lady-in-waiting. Two people holding hands, We didn’t have any plans Not saying words like never And always and forever. It’s an unwritten verbal contract With just the one signature. The expectancy of longevity Is more than a bit premature. It is important to recognize it When it’s all about fun and games. It keeps temperature from rising And avoids the calling of names. Then it all got turned around And quite suddenly I found There were rules for me to obey Like staying out too late in the day And things I had to do with you If I wanted to demonstrate I was true. It was no longer important to you It was not enough just loving you. It’s an unwritten verbal contract With just the one signature. The expectancy of longevity Is more than a bit premature. I am a prisoner in your heart When did my sentence start? How long will I have to serve? How did you get the nerve To change a delightful love affair Into something that would scare? Sorry, I have to call a halt You know it’s all your fault. It is important to recognize it When it’s all about fun and games. It keeps temperature from rising And avoids the calling of names. We only had a few short dates We barely made it to third base And yet the thing is totally shattered. You’re out looking at china patterns. There were no promises ever made. I do not mean to be throwing shade But this is not the thing I agreed upon Whatever we once had is now gone. It’s an unwritten verbal contract With just the one signature. The expectancy of longevity Is more than a bit premature. It is important to recognize it When it’s all about fun and games. It keeps temperature from rising And avoids the calling of names.
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56
My my, what a special little snowflake. Why did you choose to be this way? You chose to be different, you chose to rebel. No binary for me! You chose the grief, the pain. You chose this abuse, bruised by the verbal ferociousness, forged by physical fallacies To be thrown out of bathrooms because doing your business in the bathroom is abysmal. You chose to be derided by decisive discrimination. You chose to be murdered by misconceptions, ***** by ridiculous requirements. You chose to be beaten, assaulted. You chose the words I weave to weaken your will. You chose the sacred sermons I spit at you. You chose to be What I find disgusting, despicable because you chose to be what you aren't, but I realize what I really regard you to be. My my, what a special little bigot. You think I chose to be this way? You think I chose the injuring, injustice, the jester, the joke the target, tortured, This pain, my poison, the prey, praying, the sinner of sins so bittersweet, So I could be "special"? Special isn't a sacrifice of physical self Nor the gunshots and gruesome grief Nor even the crass comfort of a half-assed comrade. You think I CHOSE this, and you didn't choose to spit and spew your sour speeches to disperse your disgust in discrimination to integrate your ignorance into my existence. Or did you not choose to deal the abuse by your hand yourself? My special little bigot, You live as you are. So be it, if I am so "special", the special little snowflake. Yes, we are the little snowflakes that your palm's presence melts away, And you're that burning persistence of life Blocking with your own self our slow, wistful descent, As if it were futility and not of your own will. If I am the snowflake, you are the fire.
0
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
zach-hanlon
Special Little Snowflake
My my, what a special little snowflake. Why did you choose to be this way? You chose to be different, you chose to rebel. No binary for me! You chose the grief, the pain. You chose this abuse, bruised by the verbal ferociousness, forged by physical fallacies To be thrown out of bathrooms because doing your business in the bathroom is abysmal. You chose to be derided by decisive discrimination. You chose to be murdered by misconceptions, ***** by ridiculous requirements. You chose to be beaten, assaulted. You chose the words I weave to weaken your will. You chose the sacred sermons I spit at you. You chose to be What I find disgusting, despicable because you chose to be what you aren't, but I realize what I really regard you to be. My my, what a special little bigot. You think I chose to be this way? You think I chose the injuring, injustice, the jester, the joke the target, tortured, This pain, my poison, the prey, praying, the sinner of sins so bittersweet, So I could be "special"? Special isn't a sacrifice of physical self Nor the gunshots and gruesome grief Nor even the crass comfort of a half-assed comrade. You think I CHOSE this, and you didn't choose to spit and spew your sour speeches to disperse your disgust in discrimination to integrate your ignorance into my existence. Or did you not choose to deal the abuse by your hand yourself? My special little bigot, You live as you are. So be it, if I am so "special", the special little snowflake. Yes, we are the little snowflakes that your palm's presence melts away, And you're that burning persistence of life Blocking with your own self our slow, wistful descent, As if it were futility and not of your own will. If I am the snowflake, you are the fire.
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49
My mom says "frick" or "fiddlesticks" even when kids aren't around. She's holding in some of that pure, unfiltered rage each time a plate is dropped or toe is stubbed. If only she'd just shout "OH **** she wouldn't lash out at grandma or sob uncontrollably later. Someone once said to me, **** you!" and I was happy. It means they won't ****** me in my sleep because they expressed verbal and not physical rage. I was happier when someone told me "go **** yourself" because I went home and did just that. Speaking of pleasure, the act of ******* burns between 85-250 calories, improves sleep & your immune system. Google it. I've been ****** a realization &/or learning experience having gone broke without a way to pay rent resulting in the lesson of moving back in with the parents. We can get ****** up. A couple too many tokes &/or shots of gin &/or punches to the face. We learn the perils of excess. In third grade, I was ****** up by a group of 6-7 kids. I learned I never want to experience THAT uncomfortable feeling again. Why is **** such a bad word again?
0
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 11:58 AM UTC
brycical
The Benefits of ****
My mom says "frick" or "fiddlesticks" even when kids aren't around. She's holding in some of that pure, unfiltered rage each time a plate is dropped or toe is stubbed. If only she'd just shout "OH **** she wouldn't lash out at grandma or sob uncontrollably later. Someone once said to me, **** you!" and I was happy. It means they won't ****** me in my sleep because they expressed verbal and not physical rage. I was happier when someone told me "go **** yourself" because I went home and did just that. Speaking of pleasure, the act of ******* burns between 85-250 calories, improves sleep & your immune system. Google it. I've been ****** a realization &/or learning experience having gone broke without a way to pay rent resulting in the lesson of moving back in with the parents. We can get ****** up. A couple too many tokes &/or shots of gin &/or punches to the face. We learn the perils of excess. In third grade, I was ****** up by a group of 6-7 kids. I learned I never want to experience THAT uncomfortable feeling again. Why is **** such a bad word again?
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32
*transported back into those walls running down the basement hall i locked the door so i could hide and reaching for a 45 with practically no voice at all i sang along and prayed to drown you out does the soul regenerate? what part of me did you take? your verbal threats would make me gasp no one could hear when I called out record player winding ‘round i tried to yell but couldn’t shout yet something you did cultivate a plan you helped to propagate for each and every time i ran like a builder in a gym i’d sing a song and sing again strengthening the chords within empowering my voice ©2016janetaylor
0
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 6:46 AM UTC
jane-taylor
empowering my voice
*transported back into those walls running down the basement hall i locked the door so i could hide and reaching for a 45 with practically no voice at all i sang along and prayed to drown you out does the soul regenerate? what part of me did you take? your verbal threats would make me gasp no one could hear when I called out record player winding ‘round i tried to yell but couldn’t shout yet something you did cultivate a plan you helped to propagate for each and every time i ran like a builder in a gym i’d sing a song and sing again strengthening the chords within empowering my voice ©2016janetaylor
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22
Every where there's secrets some are dark, some light Everywhere there's secrets Some best kept out of sight Everywhere there's secrets Of the living and the dead Everywhere there's secrets Some are better left unsaid Would you listen to what you heard If these walls could talk Would you be scared to hear If these walls could talk Sounds of when you sat and cried If these walls could talk Of the day that Mama up and died If these walls could talk Look about and you will see A secret in disguise Look about and you will see Just don't look through your eyes Look about and you will see A secret, full of lies Just look about and you will see Where secrets soar and rise Secrets buried in the walls If these walls could talk Of playing games in upstairs halls If these walls could talk Fighting behind bedroom doors If these walls could talk Would you listen to the open sores If these walls could talk Secrets hidden in plain sight But absorbed by an old house Secrets hidden in plain sight Silent, quiet like a mouse Secrets hidden in plain sight of a hero or a louse Secrets hidden in plain sight Behind the walls of an old house Scars and cuts and verbal stones If these walls could talk Could break our hearts and break our bones If these walls could talk Sounds of laughter and of moans If these walls could talk Would you hear the ancient, haunted tones If these walls could talk
0
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 4:48 PM UTC
roger-turner
If these walls could talk
Every where there's secrets some are dark, some light Everywhere there's secrets Some best kept out of sight Everywhere there's secrets Of the living and the dead Everywhere there's secrets Some are better left unsaid Would you listen to what you heard If these walls could talk Would you be scared to hear If these walls could talk Sounds of when you sat and cried If these walls could talk Of the day that Mama up and died If these walls could talk Look about and you will see A secret in disguise Look about and you will see Just don't look through your eyes Look about and you will see A secret, full of lies Just look about and you will see Where secrets soar and rise Secrets buried in the walls If these walls could talk Of playing games in upstairs halls If these walls could talk Fighting behind bedroom doors If these walls could talk Would you listen to the open sores If these walls could talk Secrets hidden in plain sight But absorbed by an old house Secrets hidden in plain sight Silent, quiet like a mouse Secrets hidden in plain sight of a hero or a louse Secrets hidden in plain sight Behind the walls of an old house Scars and cuts and verbal stones If these walls could talk Could break our hearts and break our bones If these walls could talk Sounds of laughter and of moans If these walls could talk Would you hear the ancient, haunted tones If these walls could talk
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48
old hunger makes us sick forget who we are and where we're going how to see thru fog how to pierce the sky where's the truth in all this mustard gas and lies translucent silken shadows of people wishy washy wistful thinking like 'o look at big sophisticated words dribbling across page - verbal ***** great philosopher all expression and thought purge speaking in a vacuum' petulant little lines for liar's lurid heart petty little fines growing large from the start what is this point you speak of and how do we get there if it is really about the journey and not the destination then can i get off right now or can i be seal eye headlight hi beams is there trust enough left between us two to go on down this road together or part ways at lightning fork in path no i go into petrified forest bog to hide and melt and decompose bucolic rot under stalwart stoic onlooking trees you go to riches, glory, ******* and now sprouting planted seeds misgivings all forgotten like irreverent, irrelevant childish deeds and i grow bitter and ferment starving gut absinthe filled with frozen wormwood lies like Poe and de Quincy and all the rest
0
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
WhereDoIGoFromHereDorothy
road
old hunger makes us sick forget who we are and where we're going how to see thru fog how to pierce the sky where's the truth in all this mustard gas and lies translucent silken shadows of people wishy washy wistful thinking like 'o look at big sophisticated words dribbling across page - verbal ***** great philosopher all expression and thought purge speaking in a vacuum' petulant little lines for liar's lurid heart petty little fines growing large from the start what is this point you speak of and how do we get there if it is really about the journey and not the destination then can i get off right now or can i be seal eye headlight hi beams is there trust enough left between us two to go on down this road together or part ways at lightning fork in path no i go into petrified forest bog to hide and melt and decompose bucolic rot under stalwart stoic onlooking trees you go to riches, glory, ******* and now sprouting planted seeds misgivings all forgotten like irreverent, irrelevant childish deeds and i grow bitter and ferment starving gut absinthe filled with frozen wormwood lies like Poe and de Quincy and all the rest
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34
I want to crawl in your mind. Find the real rythm behind the melody of your heartbeat. Show you Gods given freedom out of verbal prison walls. To make you fall in your spiritual calling. Vision Preaching your emotions by reaching the back of your tongue You hide your insecurities among your heavenly eyes. The heaviness of your tongue is beauty to me. Let me set you free. Freedom Travel me to your secrets. Let me loose between your memories. I will not abuse your confidence but regularly choose to unite us in consequences. Let me visit your fears. Explore Let me dissolve your assumptions and reason your doubts. Evolve out of the abundance of my soul. I will slowly, surely travel myself deeper, deeply to discover the source of your sincere existence. Promise Patience Love
0
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
exhale-your-mind
An expedition to your sincere existence
I want to crawl in your mind. Find the real rythm behind the melody of your heartbeat. Show you Gods given freedom out of verbal prison walls. To make you fall in your spiritual calling. Vision Preaching your emotions by reaching the back of your tongue You hide your insecurities among your heavenly eyes. The heaviness of your tongue is beauty to me. Let me set you free. Freedom Travel me to your secrets. Let me loose between your memories. I will not abuse your confidence but regularly choose to unite us in consequences. Let me visit your fears. Explore Let me dissolve your assumptions and reason your doubts. Evolve out of the abundance of my soul. I will slowly, surely travel myself deeper, deeply to discover the source of your sincere existence. Promise Patience Love
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24
just when the dust settles round my lust and the thud of despair hits bottom just as I flail and swim in this blood-caked,          soulless earth soup of the lost abyss of unbirth   you plunge my wilderness charred with remains from hellfire and we breathe                  halos   our bones lighted sticks, colors rising in angel arcs Your rib cage is open for my tremulous offering as my lips imprint a crimson O upon the earthquake of your chest I am still down with the                            earthworms wrist **** sopped                     by soil arteries, bashed split to the root by verbal hurts in a sliding psyche of oil yet here you are suturing wounds with whiplash kisses saltlick moans in my throat You wrap me in gauze through the imprint of your eyes turn my cuts into fresh brook gaze upon my deepest darkness like goddess worship shrine my **** is a funnel for your whipped light sacrifice ****** prayer skinned to the core all layers exposed your lips slick with the drip of my bliss, deep juice of freshly-caught jungle hum all is bared we stop at nothing paint our tongues with tears adorn the face of death with ripe guava and, as you scream my name into a blown glass whisper my soft fruit falls into the heat of           your palm somewhere in distance a         moon explodes
0
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 11:42 AM UTC
lora-lee
offering
just when the dust settles round my lust and the thud of despair hits bottom just as I flail and swim in this blood-caked,          soulless earth soup of the lost abyss of unbirth   you plunge my wilderness charred with remains from hellfire and we breathe                  halos   our bones lighted sticks, colors rising in angel arcs Your rib cage is open for my tremulous offering as my lips imprint a crimson O upon the earthquake of your chest I am still down with the                            earthworms wrist **** sopped                     by soil arteries, bashed split to the root by verbal hurts in a sliding psyche of oil yet here you are suturing wounds with whiplash kisses saltlick moans in my throat You wrap me in gauze through the imprint of your eyes turn my cuts into fresh brook gaze upon my deepest darkness like goddess worship shrine my **** is a funnel for your whipped light sacrifice ****** prayer skinned to the core all layers exposed your lips slick with the drip of my bliss, deep juice of freshly-caught jungle hum all is bared we stop at nothing paint our tongues with tears adorn the face of death with ripe guava and, as you scream my name into a blown glass whisper my soft fruit falls into the heat of           your palm somewhere in distance a         moon explodes
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73
Thank you Eric for being my friend. YOu Have taught me how it feels to be Have Real Love, how it feels to have someone there for you when you need them the most !you're taught me to love Jesus you taught me that people are all different and unique in their own ways and it's okay to love them just the way they are with no judgement. you've also taught me that being in love means you have to think about the other person before you think about yourself! *for example you think about the things that you're lover wants and you get them those things. for you thinking about what they want Makes you happy you tell me that people struggle but having people that trust you is very important because without having trust without having the ability to believe in someone fully you are nothing you're not worth anything and you are worthless as a person you have to actually give your word and have it mean something in order for you to completely give yourself to the other person I trust you with my life you are my best friend you never give up on me . you never stay mad at me. I know it's because you have Jesus! you are the reason I have more faith! The reason I seek the Lord if it wasn't for you I probably would be dead!!! I have heard so many things about people saying that you are crazy maniac and that you would **** me in a heartbeat You might hurt me but you have never done that besides the words verbal abase. But that's yours only defense Against Me because that's your only way of hurting me and you know that it does that exactly you. But most the time I do deserve it Cuz im not the easiest person sometimes im stubborn and selfish and rude and ****** And you put up with until you can't anymore then You (Man handle the situation and put me in my place ("slap in the face") ** IM IN A REALITY CHECK . I say sorry Eric the amazing Your so extremely amazing, caring, selfless, worthy You are a Angel that is Heaven sent a gift from God you are a perfect example of what God meant when he said he would find me someone that would teach me how to be a better person. if I wanted to be that better person grab hold and stop messing around Sto running. I want to be a better person you make me a better person! I honestly am glad to call you my friend, my best friend, my lover, the love of my life and my guardian angel you might not ever read this but least I got it out in the open no lies just me telling it like it is!
0
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 4:22 PM UTC
EverylifehasThorns
To my favorite person
Thank you Eric for being my friend. YOu Have taught me how it feels to be Have Real Love, how it feels to have someone there for you when you need them the most !you're taught me to love Jesus you taught me that people are all different and unique in their own ways and it's okay to love them just the way they are with no judgement. you've also taught me that being in love means you have to think about the other person before you think about yourself! *for example you think about the things that you're lover wants and you get them those things. for you thinking about what they want Makes you happy you tell me that people struggle but having people that trust you is very important because without having trust without having the ability to believe in someone fully you are nothing you're not worth anything and you are worthless as a person you have to actually give your word and have it mean something in order for you to completely give yourself to the other person I trust you with my life you are my best friend you never give up on me . you never stay mad at me. I know it's because you have Jesus! you are the reason I have more faith! The reason I seek the Lord if it wasn't for you I probably would be dead!!! I have heard so many things about people saying that you are crazy maniac and that you would **** me in a heartbeat You might hurt me but you have never done that besides the words verbal abase. But that's yours only defense Against Me because that's your only way of hurting me and you know that it does that exactly you. But most the time I do deserve it Cuz im not the easiest person sometimes im stubborn and selfish and rude and ****** And you put up with until you can't anymore then You (Man handle the situation and put me in my place ("slap in the face") ** IM IN A REALITY CHECK . I say sorry Eric the amazing Your so extremely amazing, caring, selfless, worthy You are a Angel that is Heaven sent a gift from God you are a perfect example of what God meant when he said he would find me someone that would teach me how to be a better person. if I wanted to be that better person grab hold and stop messing around Sto running. I want to be a better person you make me a better person! I honestly am glad to call you my friend, my best friend, my lover, the love of my life and my guardian angel you might not ever read this but least I got it out in the open no lies just me telling it like it is!
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27
Answers are all I need Weeks I have suffered Verbal abuse, mental, emotional abuse I just want answers I know there are many of you who have them I know I don’t care of the consequences If I have hurt someone, I will apologize I will admit I was wrong I can do it I just want answers I want the truth Is that too much to ask??
0
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
tomorrow
Truth
Answers are all I need Weeks I have suffered Verbal abuse, mental, emotional abuse I just want answers I know there are many of you who have them I know I don’t care of the consequences If I have hurt someone, I will apologize I will admit I was wrong I can do it I just want answers I want the truth Is that too much to ask??
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13
You Sir, Are An Electrician! **technocrat — noun a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.** This city boy was expert at Turning the lights on, Unlocking the front door, Putting new batteries in flashlights, And calling the handyman to "Please come upstairs" When the degree of diving difficulty was a Positive number. Also, Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR, Triggering alarms, Killing car batteries, Making laptops question Human sanity, Tearing up when reading, "Some Assembly Required!" Raised in a city of experts, He was unskilled in things electric, Becoming apoplectic, When a device had an On/off switch that ignored him. Somewhat famous he was, For engaging the inanimate, In a verbal dialectic, Which included words highly phonetic, But unsuitable for children's ears. She was raised in rural pastures, Corn fields used for hide n' go seek, Riding goats after school Just for fun, Familiar with innards of Deus ex machina, a/k/a Minor engine repairs, and Doing what he called, Making reparations. IOS7, heaven. Cabling laptop to external devices, Icing on the cake, Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker, Did not require calling an 800 number. She never read an instruction sheet Without pleasurable laughing at Japanese English. He was unashamed of his skilled Unskilled characteristics, For such is the way of the world In the human kingdom, Some of us two handed, some of us, bi-standers. But upon occasion, He would bemoan his fate, Decry his inability to survive On a post-apocalyptic Earth, Like the people on tv and movies. Periodically he would grow morose, Listless, at his inability to adapt to a Point Oh world. Uncomprehending Icons and symbols whose meaning Were wholly unintuitive, He secretly ashamed of his need for technological ****** She would sense his frustration, Wipe away his inner condensation, Climbing into his lap, Whispering the following: **You sir, are an electrician of words, a verbal technocrat,** Plumber of the depths where Few fear to tread, explorer of the head, Restorer of human paintings unmatched, Without your ilk, this world would be unbearable, Your heart's warming silk Comforts bodies and souls, Speaking from experience personal. Then, she flicked his On/Off switch, On.
0
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
nat-lipstadt
You Sir, Are An Electrician!
You Sir, Are An Electrician! **technocrat — noun a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.** This city boy was expert at Turning the lights on, Unlocking the front door, Putting new batteries in flashlights, And calling the handyman to "Please come upstairs" When the degree of diving difficulty was a Positive number. Also, Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR, Triggering alarms, Killing car batteries, Making laptops question Human sanity, Tearing up when reading, "Some Assembly Required!" Raised in a city of experts, He was unskilled in things electric, Becoming apoplectic, When a device had an On/off switch that ignored him. Somewhat famous he was, For engaging the inanimate, In a verbal dialectic, Which included words highly phonetic, But unsuitable for children's ears. She was raised in rural pastures, Corn fields used for hide n' go seek, Riding goats after school Just for fun, Familiar with innards of Deus ex machina, a/k/a Minor engine repairs, and Doing what he called, Making reparations. IOS7, heaven. Cabling laptop to external devices, Icing on the cake, Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker, Did not require calling an 800 number. She never read an instruction sheet Without pleasurable laughing at Japanese English. He was unashamed of his skilled Unskilled characteristics, For such is the way of the world In the human kingdom, Some of us two handed, some of us, bi-standers. But upon occasion, He would bemoan his fate, Decry his inability to survive On a post-apocalyptic Earth, Like the people on tv and movies. Periodically he would grow morose, Listless, at his inability to adapt to a Point Oh world. Uncomprehending Icons and symbols whose meaning Were wholly unintuitive, He secretly ashamed of his need for technological ****** She would sense his frustration, Wipe away his inner condensation, Climbing into his lap, Whispering the following: **You sir, are an electrician of words, a verbal technocrat,** Plumber of the depths where Few fear to tread, explorer of the head, Restorer of human paintings unmatched, Without your ilk, this world would be unbearable, Your heart's warming silk Comforts bodies and souls, Speaking from experience personal. Then, she flicked his On/Off switch, On.
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83
THEY were calling certain styles of whiskers by the name of "lilacs." And another manner of beard assumed in their chatter a verbal guise Of "mutton chops," "galways," "feather dusters." Metaphors such as these sprang from their lips while other street cries Sprang from sparrows finding scattered oats among interstices of the curb. Ah-hah these metaphors-and Ah-hah these boys-among the police they were known As the ***** Dozen and their names took the front pages of newspapers And two of them croaked on the same day at a "necktie party" ... if we employ the metaphors of their lips.
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6.5k
Carl Sandburg
Alley Rats
THEY were calling certain styles of whiskers by the name of "lilacs." And another manner of beard assumed in their chatter a verbal guise Of "mutton chops," "galways," "feather dusters." Metaphors such as these sprang from their lips while other street cries Sprang from sparrows finding scattered oats among interstices of the curb. Ah-hah these metaphors-and Ah-hah these boys-among the police they were known As the ***** Dozen and their names took the front pages of newspapers And two of them croaked on the same day at a "necktie party" ... if we employ the metaphors of their lips.
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9
Picketed, another generation pushing for advancement in the age of reason, Logical, radical movement Trying for less invasive measures of medication To take the blinders off the prejudice of non-conformity and reach the masses A promise to ease the pain, promote healing, the overall good Met with violence, verbal slander, from mommies and daddies afraid of a world outside their white fence, Fearing independence, the expansion of the mind, an openness in their youth to allow radical change. The bloated belt bent backwards, white collar replaced by hedonistic practical libertarians in pursuit of happiness for all Sick, disgusted with the man, the one behind the podium whom allows for this animosity on a group that did everything right, legally sound Tired of hearing the whispers across a university, the hopeful gushing’s of elated individuals bright- eyes naive Of a system that won’t allow something this controversial into the public, afraid to lose their hold on a potential capitol On something that should be as easy to find in a free market as Captain Crunch, Coca-Cola, and Rice Krispy Treats. Grinding down, fluffy-green-crystal bud Dank yellow smoke smoldering out of pipes end, seeping out of closed lips billowing out of nostrils Dragon fire down a throat coated with a week worth of soot, and experience Choking, coughing, laughing away the misery The disappointment in her fellow man to refuse to even consider the validity of a proven product Knowing that if it was anything else a miracle drug composed of fairy dust, unicorn hair and the ***** of a thousand angels; approval would have been immediate. Whip lash. Flick, flame, fumigating Baking myself into a calmer state, watching with ****** off grace Twitching with the need to take action To control this negative reaction, to slap the of face limp **** conservatives So consumed with themselves, blind to the pain of people who have lost hope in other forms of relief Alternative therapy shut off by a system obsessed with its war on drugs.
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Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
emmieluv101
Ballot? What Ballot?
Picketed, another generation pushing for advancement in the age of reason, Logical, radical movement Trying for less invasive measures of medication To take the blinders off the prejudice of non-conformity and reach the masses A promise to ease the pain, promote healing, the overall good Met with violence, verbal slander, from mommies and daddies afraid of a world outside their white fence, Fearing independence, the expansion of the mind, an openness in their youth to allow radical change. The bloated belt bent backwards, white collar replaced by hedonistic practical libertarians in pursuit of happiness for all Sick, disgusted with the man, the one behind the podium whom allows for this animosity on a group that did everything right, legally sound Tired of hearing the whispers across a university, the hopeful gushing’s of elated individuals bright- eyes naive Of a system that won’t allow something this controversial into the public, afraid to lose their hold on a potential capitol On something that should be as easy to find in a free market as Captain Crunch, Coca-Cola, and Rice Krispy Treats. Grinding down, fluffy-green-crystal bud Dank yellow smoke smoldering out of pipes end, seeping out of closed lips billowing out of nostrils Dragon fire down a throat coated with a week worth of soot, and experience Choking, coughing, laughing away the misery The disappointment in her fellow man to refuse to even consider the validity of a proven product Knowing that if it was anything else a miracle drug composed of fairy dust, unicorn hair and the ***** of a thousand angels; approval would have been immediate. Whip lash. Flick, flame, fumigating Baking myself into a calmer state, watching with ****** off grace Twitching with the need to take action To control this negative reaction, to slap the of face limp **** conservatives So consumed with themselves, blind to the pain of people who have lost hope in other forms of relief Alternative therapy shut off by a system obsessed with its war on drugs.
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25
"Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection. Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined. It's a kiss, whispered sweetly" (2) who needs challenges, commissions. kicks~in~le butte~ when heaven heaves rains, one downs tall orders in short shot glass verses, which glossed over at its first communion(cation, come back months later to subtract - another poem from where it lay dormant on the doormat of my sub~sub~terranes of my diluted subconscious au natured dry & rugged terrain a favored poet, a secretive admirer, whoa~whose~her truthful name, I've yet to uncover, but whose one true soul inspires me repeatedly, ana~lyrically licks me into dredging from me un begrudgingly and yet, another love poem, she herself wrote when elixiring (commentating (3)) 'pon one of mine, a long long time ago Alas!  Alack! unnaturally immodest, one concedes, when obviously a Super~Woman!-cedes, seeds in three verses, what I  could never unknot nor uncover so I requite & requote with unlabored pleasure miz patty m's primary terse verse, neither secondary & never tertiary, her absolut perfect mixed drink defining, summarizing, the essences of love *"(Love) Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection. Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined. It's a kiss, whispered sweetly"* I concede, in deed, and in writing, I know nothing, of writing of only love poetry and all the great predecessors, elsewhere lyricized, named and tabulated, by yet another women, (1) I will take my weary words elsewhere, and if perhaps, disguised as a woman, (Natalie, Natasha, Natali see note below) perhaps my verbal herbal insides, my turgid insights, will be shorter, sweeter, but never more completer than those of, who can syncopate it in rhyme and the naming of my predilection, by mid~initial, will give a measuring of solace, and a kiss and hug from my mirrored selfie, having been unsuccessful at my one chosen endeavor, only love poetry, adieu, I, due, utter Nevermore                     M>
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Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 3:38 PM UTC
onlylovepoetry
"A love poem is a kiss, whispered sweetly"
"Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection. Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined. It's a kiss, whispered sweetly" (2) who needs challenges, commissions. kicks~in~le butte~ when heaven heaves rains, one downs tall orders in short shot glass verses, which glossed over at its first communion(cation, come back months later to subtract - another poem from where it lay dormant on the doormat of my sub~sub~terranes of my diluted subconscious au natured dry & rugged terrain a favored poet, a secretive admirer, whoa~whose~her truthful name, I've yet to uncover, but whose one true soul inspires me repeatedly, ana~lyrically licks me into dredging from me un begrudgingly and yet, another love poem, she herself wrote when elixiring (commentating (3)) 'pon one of mine, a long long time ago Alas!  Alack! unnaturally immodest, one concedes, when obviously a Super~Woman!-cedes, seeds in three verses, what I  could never unknot nor uncover so I requite & requote with unlabored pleasure miz patty m's primary terse verse, neither secondary & never tertiary, her absolut perfect mixed drink defining, summarizing, the essences of love *"(Love) Poetry is confession, obsession, reflection. Empathic minds, valentines, hope divined. It's a kiss, whispered sweetly"* I concede, in deed, and in writing, I know nothing, of writing of only love poetry and all the great predecessors, elsewhere lyricized, named and tabulated, by yet another women, (1) I will take my weary words elsewhere, and if perhaps, disguised as a woman, (Natalie, Natasha, Natali see note below) perhaps my verbal herbal insides, my turgid insights, will be shorter, sweeter, but never more completer than those of, who can syncopate it in rhyme and the naming of my predilection, by mid~initial, will give a measuring of solace, and a kiss and hug from my mirrored selfie, having been unsuccessful at my one chosen endeavor, only love poetry, adieu, I, due, utter Nevermore                     M>
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A ***** duct tape silences my mouth People say blood is thicker than water Yet your thunderous voice screams at me Does daddy cherish his daughter? So why can’t your eyes open and see You’ve become a Mein Kampf tyrant? You want my obedience and silence! A ***** duct tape silences my mouth As it leaves a residue of disgust Must this be our memory? Though silent my heart feels unjust- Must you **** all my energy; Leave me to feel lost and astray As mental state starts to decay A ***** duct tape silences my mouth Will your anger subside and be quiet? Fear suffocates vulnerable heart; Wrathful words ready for a riot; Confidence crushed as it’s torn apart. Verbal abuse moves like a torrent flood, Affecting those who share the same blood! (c) 2018 Joanne Chang
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Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 9:35 AM UTC
JoSwan
***** Duct Tape
A ***** duct tape silences my mouth People say blood is thicker than water Yet your thunderous voice screams at me Does daddy cherish his daughter? So why can’t your eyes open and see You’ve become a Mein Kampf tyrant? You want my obedience and silence! A ***** duct tape silences my mouth As it leaves a residue of disgust Must this be our memory? Though silent my heart feels unjust- Must you **** all my energy; Leave me to feel lost and astray As mental state starts to decay A ***** duct tape silences my mouth Will your anger subside and be quiet? Fear suffocates vulnerable heart; Wrathful words ready for a riot; Confidence crushed as it’s torn apart. Verbal abuse moves like a torrent flood, Affecting those who share the same blood! (c) 2018 Joanne Chang
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so someone remarks and thus a poem commissioned... *a better world, a wish no one can turn a back to... a literacy of mine own, a bridge too far... but such a lie too glorious to ignore... blessed be the wisher for he gave this day water and wine to a lapsed Jew who reincarnates the containership of body and soul from the Star of David,* it, burr~etched upon his chest, and embraces lost tourists who unfated unfazed stumble upon the guide dog of his verbal chicanery and funny bone, smiling for as long as it takes to cross that last bridge, nearer our god, you than me..
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Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 11:07 AM UTC
poetoftheway
“a better literate world of your own making”
so someone remarks and thus a poem commissioned... *a better world, a wish no one can turn a back to... a literacy of mine own, a bridge too far... but such a lie too glorious to ignore... blessed be the wisher for he gave this day water and wine to a lapsed Jew who reincarnates the containership of body and soul from the Star of David,* it, burr~etched upon his chest, and embraces lost tourists who unfated unfazed stumble upon the guide dog of his verbal chicanery and funny bone, smiling for as long as it takes to cross that last bridge, nearer our god, you than me..
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13
Oh yes, what are those words again? how do they start, how and when? sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me every part of my broken heart realise the lies of that famous part invisible fists from the verbal toil now sit like cysts in my mental soil a physical scar reminds me the past was real but thanks to those fists, happiness feels surreal a mouth from afar, a single breath can start that silent, you know, death the blackhole so numb from a word so dumb yet so strong to break my bones and hurt so long in my fine ear drums as the throw of blunt stones on my skin that burns and stuns.
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Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
nelize
VERBAL ABUSE
Oh yes, what are those words again? how do they start, how and when? sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me every part of my broken heart realise the lies of that famous part invisible fists from the verbal toil now sit like cysts in my mental soil a physical scar reminds me the past was real but thanks to those fists, happiness feels surreal a mouth from afar, a single breath can start that silent, you know, death the blackhole so numb from a word so dumb yet so strong to break my bones and hurt so long in my fine ear drums as the throw of blunt stones on my skin that burns and stuns.
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18
I bleed letters, breathe words-- lived in utero with a pen. Creative gypsies & outcasts are brethren. I will die for their plaid sky brushstrokes &/or verbal slip-bang poetry. That's my religion. Self-doubt is my sin. I have a habit of overstaying my welcome, another is coming on a little strong. Communication is my mantra, my philosophy is intelectual stimulation. Putting up with **** is second nature. Spit in my face. Call me names. Don't give me that promotion. I'll survive-- probably even laugh about it later... But... take advantage of me-- or those I hold close-- if I even see a glint of the knife you're going to put in my back I promise-- I promise the pain you will feel leaves a scar much worse than whatever could happen to me.
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Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 1:38 PM UTC
brycical
Heart of a Taurus
I bleed letters, breathe words-- lived in utero with a pen. Creative gypsies & outcasts are brethren. I will die for their plaid sky brushstrokes &/or verbal slip-bang poetry. That's my religion. Self-doubt is my sin. I have a habit of overstaying my welcome, another is coming on a little strong. Communication is my mantra, my philosophy is intelectual stimulation. Putting up with **** is second nature. Spit in my face. Call me names. Don't give me that promotion. I'll survive-- probably even laugh about it later... But... take advantage of me-- or those I hold close-- if I even see a glint of the knife you're going to put in my back I promise-- I promise the pain you will feel leaves a scar much worse than whatever could happen to me.
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31
it looks like the inside of my cortex Loose screws with a loose table for my verbal contortions A few books and spells surrounded by potions Vertical blinds shut tight, the way they were forced in Mattress on the floor tucked on top of a box spring Fornication smell, but no room for my offspring I don't live alone, instead, I live with these objects Mac 27 inch, I pad that's never dim...tech floods the room like CSI evidence Solid speakers to echo feelings a resonance Window closed, but when it's open the moonlight just settles in This is my cave but, you can call it my residence.
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Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
stellarhero
My Cave
it looks like the inside of my cortex Loose screws with a loose table for my verbal contortions A few books and spells surrounded by potions Vertical blinds shut tight, the way they were forced in Mattress on the floor tucked on top of a box spring Fornication smell, but no room for my offspring I don't live alone, instead, I live with these objects Mac 27 inch, I pad that's never dim...tech floods the room like CSI evidence Solid speakers to echo feelings a resonance Window closed, but when it's open the moonlight just settles in This is my cave but, you can call it my residence.
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12
I draw a picture A simple fixture. Of two vertical bodies at vertical ends, do you see the picture. A verbal description of a beautiful beginning with each other they never felt richer, he had won her heart so I named him victor. Her heart in his hand a solid pitcher he caught it one hand.How could you not understand. One heart one hand her boy her man. He grew inside her she became his home she held her own against all kinds of foe he relished in her midst he thought love was a myth a mixture a blend of two perfect chemicals now do you see where it all began one kiss sealed her lips. The ending to many scripts and clips was the beginning to their bliss. All this because with a song she stole his heart he knew from the start she had won the part. Number one on his charts. You couldn't take her part. You couldn't keep them apart. She was the apple of his heart :)
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Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
aya-187
candice
I draw a picture A simple fixture. Of two vertical bodies at vertical ends, do you see the picture. A verbal description of a beautiful beginning with each other they never felt richer, he had won her heart so I named him victor. Her heart in his hand a solid pitcher he caught it one hand.How could you not understand. One heart one hand her boy her man. He grew inside her she became his home she held her own against all kinds of foe he relished in her midst he thought love was a myth a mixture a blend of two perfect chemicals now do you see where it all began one kiss sealed her lips. The ending to many scripts and clips was the beginning to their bliss. All this because with a song she stole his heart he knew from the start she had won the part. Number one on his charts. You couldn't take her part. You couldn't keep them apart. She was the apple of his heart :)
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1
http://m.wikihow.com/Unhook-a-Bra Pinch the eyelets but oh so gently, To properly unhook the device to safely release paradise From it's containment chamber. This be one of many secrets to unlocking The mechanism that holds some of the happy things The human body artist conceived To perpetuate the Species. According to the internet, To extract joy to the world correctly, Depends upon both your station and your Positioning. Thus, it helps to have GPS, Which most men think is that pointy thing Between their legs, But is not. Given the laws of gravity, And other natural limitations, Sadly that utensil of little avail In this surgical operation. If one desires to release the tension Between the connectors of the protectors, Guardians of her heart, It will be necessary to Let your fingers do the walking. So cut and paste the title above, In your web browser place! Do your homework or risk feeling As petite as a schnauzer. Seems your natural tendency, Righty or lefty, matters in this endeavor, Of which I was unawares, oft pressing the incorrect lever. This, the likely cause of my spectacular Teenage Fumblings and failures. Had I known that fact, In the days before the Internet, Surely I would have brought along my Catchers mitt To step up my game. Sage advice the article provides: *Get a bra, and practice, practice, practice! It gets easier with experience.* But methinks that is a bit of a Risky adventure, Lest you be seen boy, Practicing upon yourself, Or even a dummy, Dummy! So cut and paste the title above In your web browser, Do your home work or risk feeling As petite as a pocket schnauzer. But the most important tip This wealthy article of information provides, The conclusion. In the hour of your desperate struggle, Drooping Ego And Crushed Pride, Ask for assistance from one more practiced, Hopefully nearby, Whose help usually comes with a charming smile of touching condescension For your male idiocy and verbal in-articulation. *She, unawares, that you have got her Positioned precisely where you want!* For when you lift her up, In a free state, the one Divinity intended, and in your arms, enfolded and protected, In one grand poetic gesture, Sweep her off her feet, Her surprise will be **.. O So Touching!**
0
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 6:30 PM UTC
nat-lipstadt
Unhook-a-Bra (2013)
http://m.wikihow.com/Unhook-a-Bra Pinch the eyelets but oh so gently, To properly unhook the device to safely release paradise From it's containment chamber. This be one of many secrets to unlocking The mechanism that holds some of the happy things The human body artist conceived To perpetuate the Species. According to the internet, To extract joy to the world correctly, Depends upon both your station and your Positioning. Thus, it helps to have GPS, Which most men think is that pointy thing Between their legs, But is not. Given the laws of gravity, And other natural limitations, Sadly that utensil of little avail In this surgical operation. If one desires to release the tension Between the connectors of the protectors, Guardians of her heart, It will be necessary to Let your fingers do the walking. So cut and paste the title above, In your web browser place! Do your homework or risk feeling As petite as a schnauzer. Seems your natural tendency, Righty or lefty, matters in this endeavor, Of which I was unawares, oft pressing the incorrect lever. This, the likely cause of my spectacular Teenage Fumblings and failures. Had I known that fact, In the days before the Internet, Surely I would have brought along my Catchers mitt To step up my game. Sage advice the article provides: *Get a bra, and practice, practice, practice! It gets easier with experience.* But methinks that is a bit of a Risky adventure, Lest you be seen boy, Practicing upon yourself, Or even a dummy, Dummy! So cut and paste the title above In your web browser, Do your home work or risk feeling As petite as a pocket schnauzer. But the most important tip This wealthy article of information provides, The conclusion. In the hour of your desperate struggle, Drooping Ego And Crushed Pride, Ask for assistance from one more practiced, Hopefully nearby, Whose help usually comes with a charming smile of touching condescension For your male idiocy and verbal in-articulation. *She, unawares, that you have got her Positioned precisely where you want!* For when you lift her up, In a free state, the one Divinity intended, and in your arms, enfolded and protected, In one grand poetic gesture, Sweep her off her feet, Her surprise will be **.. O So Touching!**
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