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"verbatim" poems
~a question of a thousand dreams~^ “Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness?  Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see” this one composes itself for all dreams go unremembered the first, the thousandth, the  every in between, erased by the push button of opening eyes but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting, leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come in black and white elementary clues, a pillow indentation, single hair that stretches across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red   but certainly unmine,   dregs of soured sentiment linger like the aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers heated summers breezes give no succor or relief, and the rain following gives no pleasure, for now you are hot and soaked, but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed, and eyes widening in major league surprise, the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted   she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair, and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain, and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated and what you do and what you see is the abraded night ahead, and you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think, the question answered, and you beg relief by uttering “perchance to dream” 3:49 pm see the notes!! someone accuses me of Plagiarism because  I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago so here is my response to “just saying” congratulations on ******* me off and yes I agree, you do not know the rules “#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume  that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“ http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
0
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 3:59 PM UTC
pitch-black-god-8
a question of a thousand dreams
~a question of a thousand dreams~^ “Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness?  Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see” this one composes itself for all dreams go unremembered the first, the thousandth, the  every in between, erased by the push button of opening eyes but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting, leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come in black and white elementary clues, a pillow indentation, single hair that stretches across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red   but certainly unmine,   dregs of soured sentiment linger like the aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers heated summers breezes give no succor or relief, and the rain following gives no pleasure, for now you are hot and soaked, but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed, and eyes widening in major league surprise, the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted   she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair, and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain, and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated and what you do and what you see is the abraded night ahead, and you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think, the question answered, and you beg relief by uttering “perchance to dream” 3:49 pm see the notes!! someone accuses me of Plagiarism because  I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago so here is my response to “just saying” congratulations on ******* me off and yes I agree, you do not know the rules “#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume  that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“ http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
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47
Your name is the kind of name that makes you want to fall in love. A not so common thing, my sistah. The expression that appears across your face. Planning our wedding day in verbatim to the rhythm of our heart. Learning to dance between the gap of each throb. Planting the seeds of unity now, so we can one day look back and see how much we've grown together
0
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC
kewayne-wadley
Your Name
Your name is the kind of name that makes you want to fall in love. A not so common thing, my sistah. The expression that appears across your face. Planning our wedding day in verbatim to the rhythm of our heart. Learning to dance between the gap of each throb. Planting the seeds of unity now, so we can one day look back and see how much we've grown together
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6
She said, verbatim, "I really want to kiss you.     Is that okay?"      And the fact that she asked that        Makes it so okay it's frightening.
0
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
xok
Okay
She said, verbatim, "I really want to kiss you.     Is that okay?"      And the fact that she asked that        Makes it so okay it's frightening.
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5
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago, He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him, Just "on spec", addressed as follows, "Clancy, of The Overflow". And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected, (And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar) Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it: "Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are." In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the Western drovers go; As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing, For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know. And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars, And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended, And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars. I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall, And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, ***** city Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street, And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting, Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless ***** of feet. And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste, With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy, For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste. And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy, Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go, While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal — But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of "The Overflow".
0
3.7k
A B 'Banjo' Paterson
Clancy of the Overflow
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago, He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him, Just "on spec", addressed as follows, "Clancy, of The Overflow". And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected, (And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar) Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it: "Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are." In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the Western drovers go; As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing, For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know. And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars, And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended, And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars. I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall, And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, ***** city Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street, And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting, Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless ***** of feet. And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste, With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy, For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste. And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy, Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go, While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal — But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of "The Overflow".
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32
the boy tugs your arm in public. his panic so local his gut could be yours. verbatim you confront the misquote children from abusive studio apartments inherit warehouse jobs from problem immigrants. a bruise of ***** darkens the front of your jeans.
0
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
barton-d-smock
assimilation
the boy tugs your arm in public. his panic so local his gut could be yours. verbatim you confront the misquote children from abusive studio apartments inherit warehouse jobs from problem immigrants. a bruise of ***** darkens the front of your jeans.
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1
Melting madness and shimmering isles The bubble-gum boils in drug pedophiles Let's teach the East to love Western style We come in with strap-on's and pillage with smiles The rest of the world watches their watches People keep saying we're at hour eleven We're changing the design on our gold lockets From a heart to a blackjack, Seven Seven Seven! The college boys assure you that they know the lyrics And the meanings behind them for they've been enlightened They swarm out like locusts and pretentiously parrot Verbatim the textbooks they read when they're frightened That they'll die with nothing to show for their efforts They want everyone else in the world to remember That they did exist on some scale of importance Even though we're just spun yarn of grass, dirt and oceans Intelligence streams the consciousness seeds and conscientious objectors it seems So pardon me for the fallacy of pardoning tyrannical dictator queens It seems these days to be discovered you need to cheat on your spouse or your lover You'd think that with all the war crimes we've seen we would have hung at least one or the other We've got two parties, so pick one or scram! (Look at them squirm as fast as they can!) They're starting to think for themselves again! Quick, strangle the market and feed this man Acid and bath salts and give him some tear gas and send him on in to disarm the smear traps And **** everyone so we'll jump to conclusion with no where to turn, the final solution! I'm drunk again and we're falling in, the shoreline is riddled with explosions We don't speak of the war, we have no comment, we're almost out of original content We're frantically searching for a brand new contest to prove that our nation is still the best Whether you're China, Russia, Israel, Pakistan, the U.K., or India, the U.S. or Japan Let's take all the gangbanging **** out of Oakland and drop them in to the Atlantic Ocean Or better yet, set them loose in Uganda, let's see how long they last in Rwanda. I'm done with religion and socialized medicine, this aristocracy of pull and deception So for once in our lifetimes, let's seek a vision, because God knows people can't make ******* decisions.
0
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 4:20 AM UTC
ryan-bowdish
The Other Half Of The World Raps
Melting madness and shimmering isles The bubble-gum boils in drug pedophiles Let's teach the East to love Western style We come in with strap-on's and pillage with smiles The rest of the world watches their watches People keep saying we're at hour eleven We're changing the design on our gold lockets From a heart to a blackjack, Seven Seven Seven! The college boys assure you that they know the lyrics And the meanings behind them for they've been enlightened They swarm out like locusts and pretentiously parrot Verbatim the textbooks they read when they're frightened That they'll die with nothing to show for their efforts They want everyone else in the world to remember That they did exist on some scale of importance Even though we're just spun yarn of grass, dirt and oceans Intelligence streams the consciousness seeds and conscientious objectors it seems So pardon me for the fallacy of pardoning tyrannical dictator queens It seems these days to be discovered you need to cheat on your spouse or your lover You'd think that with all the war crimes we've seen we would have hung at least one or the other We've got two parties, so pick one or scram! (Look at them squirm as fast as they can!) They're starting to think for themselves again! Quick, strangle the market and feed this man Acid and bath salts and give him some tear gas and send him on in to disarm the smear traps And **** everyone so we'll jump to conclusion with no where to turn, the final solution! I'm drunk again and we're falling in, the shoreline is riddled with explosions We don't speak of the war, we have no comment, we're almost out of original content We're frantically searching for a brand new contest to prove that our nation is still the best Whether you're China, Russia, Israel, Pakistan, the U.K., or India, the U.S. or Japan Let's take all the gangbanging **** out of Oakland and drop them in to the Atlantic Ocean Or better yet, set them loose in Uganda, let's see how long they last in Rwanda. I'm done with religion and socialized medicine, this aristocracy of pull and deception So for once in our lifetimes, let's seek a vision, because God knows people can't make ******* decisions.
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32
In The Universe's Palm Lays A Rose, With An Inviting Door Closed, Black On White, Dark To Light, Words Slipped Through The Fence, Penetrating Resistance, Like A Grape Vine, Forces Lost And New Ones Combined, An Eagle Holds My Hand Through The Pain, Warms Me With Wings In The Freezing Rain, Kisses The Crown Of My Cranium, Tells Me It'll Be Okay, His Words Verbatim, Then Flies Away, Forges A Path Leading Me Past The Flames, A Silly Game Played, Millions Of Mirrors Showing My Reflection, Oh The Curse Of Visual Preception, Green Eyes A Watery Mess, The Labored Heaving Of My Chest, My Soul Speeding Past Life's Stop Sign, My Heart Broken But Rebind, Maybe The Meaning Of Life Would Be Clearer, If My Vision Was Not Blurred With Endless Tears, Red Nails Aren't Even Painted, My Meals Poisioned And Tainted, Smiling To Myself, Everyone Jarred And Set On The Top Shelf, My Gardian Eagle, Sits By Me So Regal, My Celestial Hero, Blocking Every Arrow, Which Try's To Knock Those Shelves Down, Who Try's To Make Me Frown, He Will Never Let Me, Lose My Crown
0
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 8:54 AM UTC
sydney-victoria
Celestial Eagle
In The Universe's Palm Lays A Rose, With An Inviting Door Closed, Black On White, Dark To Light, Words Slipped Through The Fence, Penetrating Resistance, Like A Grape Vine, Forces Lost And New Ones Combined, An Eagle Holds My Hand Through The Pain, Warms Me With Wings In The Freezing Rain, Kisses The Crown Of My Cranium, Tells Me It'll Be Okay, His Words Verbatim, Then Flies Away, Forges A Path Leading Me Past The Flames, A Silly Game Played, Millions Of Mirrors Showing My Reflection, Oh The Curse Of Visual Preception, Green Eyes A Watery Mess, The Labored Heaving Of My Chest, My Soul Speeding Past Life's Stop Sign, My Heart Broken But Rebind, Maybe The Meaning Of Life Would Be Clearer, If My Vision Was Not Blurred With Endless Tears, Red Nails Aren't Even Painted, My Meals Poisioned And Tainted, Smiling To Myself, Everyone Jarred And Set On The Top Shelf, My Gardian Eagle, Sits By Me So Regal, My Celestial Hero, Blocking Every Arrow, Which Try's To Knock Those Shelves Down, Who Try's To Make Me Frown, He Will Never Let Me, Lose My Crown
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36
You had me watching your mouth verbatim. The way your lips formed the words I could hardly focus on, because the corners of your mouth curled in a way I haven't yet seen. Our adventitious exchanges were works of art, painted by filthy minds,and fueled by my own flushed face. murmurer à moi, mon cher I'm taken aback by your quips, and how easily they make me want you. I'd be lying if I said that you saying my name didn't make me think evocatively,     of what would happen, were we ever alone. murmurer à moi, mon cher
0
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
jacquelyn-audrey-whiston
Whisper to Me, My Dear
You had me watching your mouth verbatim. The way your lips formed the words I could hardly focus on, because the corners of your mouth curled in a way I haven't yet seen. Our adventitious exchanges were works of art, painted by filthy minds,and fueled by my own flushed face. murmurer à moi, mon cher I'm taken aback by your quips, and how easily they make me want you. I'd be lying if I said that you saying my name didn't make me think evocatively,     of what would happen, were we ever alone. murmurer à moi, mon cher
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12
genuine anger, that implodes? kinda makes         you sleepy. been listening to too much      lindsay ellis: drinking... in vino veritas verbatim...      ghost writers?! you have to be kidding me...       kovalski! - yes sir! inquire about the *bookovski           method*! - the hyphen is counter to the concept of a prose narrative in paragraph form, translated into poetry: fwee! fwee!      jittering away, like a sparrow might! **** me, does anger make you sleepy... if anger implodes...      that's like...    the...                  ultimate          sleeping pill; it's a friday? some *****      taking place in central london? thank god i'm not thinking about picking up and marrying the scrap-heap of counter incels. all i seriously wanted was to become a bus driver, the route 5...                        **** anger is so exhausting when it implodes and does, but "doesn't" have an outlet...                you don't teach kids martial arts by kicking one of them in the *****         and watch them curl up like an oyster exposed to electricity asking, or rather, demanding: is there a kojak, a liver, a brain, and an altogether in there?!    like an echo into a cave... imploding anger:   makes you sleepy...      like the adversary of adrenaline... or the emperor's throne room scene music... oh look...                            yet another yawn attempting to lodge itself into the gob of a chimpanzee - caught on camera, "supposedly" laughing; then again... it would refer to the: bankrupt broadcasting corporation, given: sheeee shaville; well... a sort of... oops?! don't worry, you have ******** it's like the new niqab... seems a bit... pointless to ********** if you've been circumcised.
0
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
anti-aphrodisiac
genuine anger, that implodes? kinda makes         you sleepy. been listening to too much      lindsay ellis: drinking... in vino veritas verbatim...      ghost writers?! you have to be kidding me...       kovalski! - yes sir! inquire about the *bookovski           method*! - the hyphen is counter to the concept of a prose narrative in paragraph form, translated into poetry: fwee! fwee!      jittering away, like a sparrow might! **** me, does anger make you sleepy... if anger implodes...      that's like...    the...                  ultimate          sleeping pill; it's a friday? some *****      taking place in central london? thank god i'm not thinking about picking up and marrying the scrap-heap of counter incels. all i seriously wanted was to become a bus driver, the route 5...                        **** anger is so exhausting when it implodes and does, but "doesn't" have an outlet...                you don't teach kids martial arts by kicking one of them in the *****         and watch them curl up like an oyster exposed to electricity asking, or rather, demanding: is there a kojak, a liver, a brain, and an altogether in there?!    like an echo into a cave... imploding anger:   makes you sleepy...      like the adversary of adrenaline... or the emperor's throne room scene music... oh look...                            yet another yawn attempting to lodge itself into the gob of a chimpanzee - caught on camera, "supposedly" laughing; then again... it would refer to the: bankrupt broadcasting corporation, given: sheeee shaville; well... a sort of... oops?! don't worry, you have ******** it's like the new niqab... seems a bit... pointless to ********** if you've been circumcised.
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70
Heart, Pound, Race, Touch, Kiss, Smell, Feel, Watch, Wait, Relax, Caress, Secure, Stroke, Chest, Heave, Exhale Jump, Tremble, Hands, Sweat, Passion, Heat, Rise, Degree, Stay, Think, Breathe, Listen, Light, Wings, Float, Whisper Four, Play, Tease, Arouse, Lips, Part, Suction, Moisten, Lick, Slick, Excite, Swell, Taste, Pelvis, Buck, Flow Expand, Enlarge, Protrude, Enter, ****** Easy, Grab, Slow, Gentle, In, Out, Ocean, Up, Down, Around, Receive Spank, Rhythm, Slap, Tickle, Ride, Grip, Squeeze, Please, Heavenly, Faint, Dizzy, Elation, Ascent, Peak, Climb, Axe Shudder, Descent, Collect, Regroup, Melt, Hold, Mold, Entwine, Envelop, Smooth, Relieve, Soften, Linger, Love, Live, Laugh! -----ChawzzyScript
0
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 3:40 PM UTC
chawzzyscript
VERBATIM
Heart, Pound, Race, Touch, Kiss, Smell, Feel, Watch, Wait, Relax, Caress, Secure, Stroke, Chest, Heave, Exhale Jump, Tremble, Hands, Sweat, Passion, Heat, Rise, Degree, Stay, Think, Breathe, Listen, Light, Wings, Float, Whisper Four, Play, Tease, Arouse, Lips, Part, Suction, Moisten, Lick, Slick, Excite, Swell, Taste, Pelvis, Buck, Flow Expand, Enlarge, Protrude, Enter, ****** Easy, Grab, Slow, Gentle, In, Out, Ocean, Up, Down, Around, Receive Spank, Rhythm, Slap, Tickle, Ride, Grip, Squeeze, Please, Heavenly, Faint, Dizzy, Elation, Ascent, Peak, Climb, Axe Shudder, Descent, Collect, Regroup, Melt, Hold, Mold, Entwine, Envelop, Smooth, Relieve, Soften, Linger, Love, Live, Laugh! -----ChawzzyScript
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25
Versifyin' Isn't dyin', But man, It's hard to do. Words and lines Sound like cliches, What once Was old Is new.. Familiar phrases Crowd the pages, Causing such to do. Can anyone write Anything new. Did I write that; Overhear a wit? Read it in the loo? I'll note it down, Sit, Sweat and swap, Get off the *** And write it. I don't purloin Pretty Woman Because Roy Is older than me. To write Yesterday Is almost to say, I've hijacked Sir McCartney. Write Daffodils, And see what thrills That word brings to you. We may overuse them, Unwittingly Abuse them, And with some we amuse, But they're ours, Put to good use With me. The number of chords Limits the hordes; Repetition ensues, The decry is sung: I've heard that song before. The great ones of writing Are cause for citing, By we and me and you. Can't contrast love to roses, Shakespeare's told us; Can't compare eyes to stars, Lips to petals: To say, Your soft, white skin Is an ink-black sin. And Beautiful should not Be used as such. If one must use it, One needs A thesaurus. Thee, Thine, and Shall Have taken their toll; Like Death, Be not proud. Be the chosen one, You know how. Words and phrases Are replete; Too well known Not to repeat. They're in Our vernacular To be used by Any author. But verbatim Copying's outlawed. The copy cops Finger-print The frauds.
0
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
francie-lynch
Copy Cops
Versifyin' Isn't dyin', But man, It's hard to do. Words and lines Sound like cliches, What once Was old Is new.. Familiar phrases Crowd the pages, Causing such to do. Can anyone write Anything new. Did I write that; Overhear a wit? Read it in the loo? I'll note it down, Sit, Sweat and swap, Get off the *** And write it. I don't purloin Pretty Woman Because Roy Is older than me. To write Yesterday Is almost to say, I've hijacked Sir McCartney. Write Daffodils, And see what thrills That word brings to you. We may overuse them, Unwittingly Abuse them, And with some we amuse, But they're ours, Put to good use With me. The number of chords Limits the hordes; Repetition ensues, The decry is sung: I've heard that song before. The great ones of writing Are cause for citing, By we and me and you. Can't contrast love to roses, Shakespeare's told us; Can't compare eyes to stars, Lips to petals: To say, Your soft, white skin Is an ink-black sin. And Beautiful should not Be used as such. If one must use it, One needs A thesaurus. Thee, Thine, and Shall Have taken their toll; Like Death, Be not proud. Be the chosen one, You know how. Words and phrases Are replete; Too well known Not to repeat. They're in Our vernacular To be used by Any author. But verbatim Copying's outlawed. The copy cops Finger-print The frauds.
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79
Tired on the train I listen A young mother on her mobile solemn faced but beautiful eyed angrily confronts her daughters father with a maternal mantra *How do I tell her When I have all her tears and questions?* I guess he keeps hanging-up or the signal is lost The words repeat almost verbatim and repeat and repeat No-one looks everyone listens And then in the vestibule a smiling South African recounts with passion about the Jacaranda turning Cape Town purple around this time of year ...he missed his stop
0
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:04 AM UTC
paul-goring
Just Passed Stoke
Tired on the train I listen A young mother on her mobile solemn faced but beautiful eyed angrily confronts her daughters father with a maternal mantra *How do I tell her When I have all her tears and questions?* I guess he keeps hanging-up or the signal is lost The words repeat almost verbatim and repeat and repeat No-one looks everyone listens And then in the vestibule a smiling South African recounts with passion about the Jacaranda turning Cape Town purple around this time of year ...he missed his stop
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24
like a walking smash novel waiting to happen; this isn't perks, there's no **** and no falcon, and certainly no flower grow(ing) on the wall. like a british teen drama or ******** of equal magnitude. this isn't skins, well it is, just less exciting, less meaningful, less expressive-- basically, less british like a discography from thepiratebay, or a microsecond clip of sound waves, this isn't a teen anthem, or some ridiculous ballad written by puppeteers who don't know any better for children far too young to even comprehend the concept of        loss. this isn't about the strain on their parents or the baby in her belly, or even about the ****** up liver of a walking, deceased villain, no. it's about the universal and ubiquitous: hollowness. longing. strife. the record's straight, no thanks to me, we'll all sleep easier tonight, won't we? who am i kidding. i writed (clever) a wrong made so many times before it doesn't even matter. it's forgotten, no longer verbatim, content to just be; people describe it by saying, "it just is, man." and that, ladies and gentlemen, is a reason to cry.
0
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 3:34 AM UTC
foxsuitpoetry
adolescence in essence
like a walking smash novel waiting to happen; this isn't perks, there's no **** and no falcon, and certainly no flower grow(ing) on the wall. like a british teen drama or ******** of equal magnitude. this isn't skins, well it is, just less exciting, less meaningful, less expressive-- basically, less british like a discography from thepiratebay, or a microsecond clip of sound waves, this isn't a teen anthem, or some ridiculous ballad written by puppeteers who don't know any better for children far too young to even comprehend the concept of        loss. this isn't about the strain on their parents or the baby in her belly, or even about the ****** up liver of a walking, deceased villain, no. it's about the universal and ubiquitous: hollowness. longing. strife. the record's straight, no thanks to me, we'll all sleep easier tonight, won't we? who am i kidding. i writed (clever) a wrong made so many times before it doesn't even matter. it's forgotten, no longer verbatim, content to just be; people describe it by saying, "it just is, man." and that, ladies and gentlemen, is a reason to cry.
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68
I am morose. Not from love, nor life; but of the days descent, to redundancy and verbatim. What will, will become what is; just as surely as what is, has become what was.
0
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
Gearedsamurai
Morose
I am morose. Not from love, nor life; but of the days descent, to redundancy and verbatim. What will, will become what is; just as surely as what is, has become what was.
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4
I want nothing and all I want throatchase and falls. I want spiteful endears, And ricochet tears. I want colliders with nothing to lose. I want crashes indebts, And bombadier pets. I want cleft incoherence, And bookies for parents. I want you to know how to choose. I want pratfalls regarded, And paradigms parted. I want sickly verbatim, And writings circadian.        I want you,             I want you, I want you.
0
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 11:04 PM UTC
keith-ren
Meant-To-Be Overshoots
I want nothing and all I want throatchase and falls. I want spiteful endears, And ricochet tears. I want colliders with nothing to lose. I want crashes indebts, And bombadier pets. I want cleft incoherence, And bookies for parents. I want you to know how to choose. I want pratfalls regarded, And paradigms parted. I want sickly verbatim, And writings circadian.        I want you,             I want you, I want you.
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17
I want to smother you with my pillow hands suffocate your skin Scoop out your eyes so you see no evil blind you from all sin I'll wrap you in chains secured to my heart control your brain take away your dark Twist your words around my tongue scratch them back in your back verbatim I could cut you up so you fit in my pocket bleed your soul into a precious locket Smash your skull to ease your mind clawing my way to your insides
0
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 9:11 PM UTC
rizmack
Cute Aggression
I want to smother you with my pillow hands suffocate your skin Scoop out your eyes so you see no evil blind you from all sin I'll wrap you in chains secured to my heart control your brain take away your dark Twist your words around my tongue scratch them back in your back verbatim I could cut you up so you fit in my pocket bleed your soul into a precious locket Smash your skull to ease your mind clawing my way to your insides
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23
five bodies in a one room cement house. an inventory of warm voyeurisms. *I don't want to know who's been looking.* it is my job to approve the older machines. *add a second room.* three year olds not seeing birds.
0
Jul 27, 2012
Jul 27, 2012 at 4:57 PM UTC
barton-d-smock
plural of verbatim
five bodies in a one room cement house. an inventory of warm voyeurisms. *I don't want to know who's been looking.* it is my job to approve the older machines. *add a second room.* three year olds not seeing birds.
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17
Last night I came onto the hellopoetry site to try to drown out my mom's death rattle in some good poetry. Quite a few people, good decent people who have gathered around me and supported me during this agonizing time and one of those sweet Poets was being verbally and mentally attacked by                                    LOGHAIN CARV'O His criticisms were malicious and very hurtful and his taunting her was more than I could bare for a friend. She related the conversation to me and she was really upset. She told me what he said verbatim' It was way uncalled for. And she is not the only one he is doing this to. He's being offensive to the extreme.Calling her a peasant and telling her she couldn't write. And I'll probably catch all kinds of hell for doing it but I paid a "VISIT" to his site and left this comment and I Quote "Stop picking on ---------You call this a poem. You have some nerve telling her she can't write and you write crap like this. Well 1 out of 82 reads isn't so hot is it. Come on and kick me a few times. I should be easy pickings for you. I dare you ****** Well he responded with and I quote "It is obvious you do not have artistic vision like I, that or you did not read my poems and just came here in a petty attempt to demoralize I in retaliation to the criticisms I have revealed to most peoples "poetry" I wish to waste no more breath on my lessers. Just remember I when you see my talent spread out across the world. Remember how you showed the Greatest, most renowned and revered artist no support" End Quote. Loghain carv'o also stated  that "The community on this site is rather poor" He also stated "This site isn't exactly known for it's Grand Community" So now I know he doesn't even mind kicking some one who is already down. and i for one would like to know since he doesn't like this site or the Real Poets why stay? If he doesn't like the"GRAND COMMUNITY" why the hell he's still here. If he doesn't like us "lessers' why be among us. And I didn't even tell you the most malicious comments. When some one attacks a friend I will respond. That's what friends do. And Loghain carv'o is proving to be no ones friend. And his                           GOD COMPLEX is offensive! I SERVE ONE GOD ONLY AND IT IS NOT Loghain carv'o!!! I only have one thing to say to Loghain carv'o and that is and I quote again My visit to hellopoetry last night to get away for a moment from listening to my mothers death rattle, to read a few poems and find a little Peace for a few moments was ruined by you and your offensive attitude and comments and since i'm already in a living hell right  nowI can find you some room here so come enjoy hell with me. Oh but I almost forgot you don't want to consort with us "lessers" THE MIGHTY SURE DO HAVE A LONG WAY TO FALL LOGHAIN                    YOURS SINCERELY                                    Paula This is for you friend love Paula You can dish it out but you sure can't take it!
0
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
paula-lee
To All Concerned
Last night I came onto the hellopoetry site to try to drown out my mom's death rattle in some good poetry. Quite a few people, good decent people who have gathered around me and supported me during this agonizing time and one of those sweet Poets was being verbally and mentally attacked by                                    LOGHAIN CARV'O His criticisms were malicious and very hurtful and his taunting her was more than I could bare for a friend. She related the conversation to me and she was really upset. She told me what he said verbatim' It was way uncalled for. And she is not the only one he is doing this to. He's being offensive to the extreme.Calling her a peasant and telling her she couldn't write. And I'll probably catch all kinds of hell for doing it but I paid a "VISIT" to his site and left this comment and I Quote "Stop picking on ---------You call this a poem. You have some nerve telling her she can't write and you write crap like this. Well 1 out of 82 reads isn't so hot is it. Come on and kick me a few times. I should be easy pickings for you. I dare you ****** Well he responded with and I quote "It is obvious you do not have artistic vision like I, that or you did not read my poems and just came here in a petty attempt to demoralize I in retaliation to the criticisms I have revealed to most peoples "poetry" I wish to waste no more breath on my lessers. Just remember I when you see my talent spread out across the world. Remember how you showed the Greatest, most renowned and revered artist no support" End Quote. Loghain carv'o also stated  that "The community on this site is rather poor" He also stated "This site isn't exactly known for it's Grand Community" So now I know he doesn't even mind kicking some one who is already down. and i for one would like to know since he doesn't like this site or the Real Poets why stay? If he doesn't like the"GRAND COMMUNITY" why the hell he's still here. If he doesn't like us "lessers' why be among us. And I didn't even tell you the most malicious comments. When some one attacks a friend I will respond. That's what friends do. And Loghain carv'o is proving to be no ones friend. And his                           GOD COMPLEX is offensive! I SERVE ONE GOD ONLY AND IT IS NOT Loghain carv'o!!! I only have one thing to say to Loghain carv'o and that is and I quote again My visit to hellopoetry last night to get away for a moment from listening to my mothers death rattle, to read a few poems and find a little Peace for a few moments was ruined by you and your offensive attitude and comments and since i'm already in a living hell right  nowI can find you some room here so come enjoy hell with me. Oh but I almost forgot you don't want to consort with us "lessers" THE MIGHTY SURE DO HAVE A LONG WAY TO FALL LOGHAIN                    YOURS SINCERELY                                    Paula This is for you friend love Paula You can dish it out but you sure can't take it!
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22
Caught in a bind The girl wish she could rewind Coming to this Crazy Cool world But the thoughts of them ran through her mind She was so intrigued by the author for his creativity Yet she's smitten by the town's sheriff she wants to indulge on her naivety She had been coming and going so much that she lost a sense of what was real and what was fake The more time she spent in this fantasy world the more she could relate The more she fell in love The more she felt torn Finally the two of them gave her an ultimatum "Listen to my heart" said the author verbatim I was drawn to you before and after bringing you to this world I only wanted you to be my one and only girl So would you please give me a chance At your heart and give in to true love's romance "Listen to my soul" the sheriff said with a gaze. It's been but a moment, but I've loved you for days. I see it in your eyes that you see the magic in this world. So stand by my side and be my Crazy Cool girl." Time stood still as they waited for her decision What is she going to do? "I choose...." Gonna have to wait for installment 2
0
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
spilledinkbyrjay
Crazy Cool Cliffhanger (feat. A.R.Lucas)
Caught in a bind The girl wish she could rewind Coming to this Crazy Cool world But the thoughts of them ran through her mind She was so intrigued by the author for his creativity Yet she's smitten by the town's sheriff she wants to indulge on her naivety She had been coming and going so much that she lost a sense of what was real and what was fake The more time she spent in this fantasy world the more she could relate The more she fell in love The more she felt torn Finally the two of them gave her an ultimatum "Listen to my heart" said the author verbatim I was drawn to you before and after bringing you to this world I only wanted you to be my one and only girl So would you please give me a chance At your heart and give in to true love's romance "Listen to my soul" the sheriff said with a gaze. It's been but a moment, but I've loved you for days. I see it in your eyes that you see the magic in this world. So stand by my side and be my Crazy Cool girl." Time stood still as they waited for her decision What is she going to do? "I choose...." Gonna have to wait for installment 2
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21
i'm just typing this poem verbatim from thoughts in my brain. i don't know why, but they say persist everyday. i'm persisting. this is my poem for the day.
0
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
slowowl070
honest
i'm just typing this poem verbatim from thoughts in my brain. i don't know why, but they say persist everyday. i'm persisting. this is my poem for the day.
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4
Underneath a small lee in the park, she tapered down so small; sapling pine tree. Furled a wool blanket like a tootsie roll used as a pillow and rolled into sleep. Scene-by-scene dreamed of bedroom encounters enacted on beds of flowers. Remembered the words of harmonica blowing boys verbatim as the dream shifted scene for half an hour. And a small, four-leafed local sage man came at an importune time and to write her a note. Succinctly and politely bargaining with her; "Would you give up lust for pure reason?" Turning away briskly, she glanced toward a stump sat down for a ponderous sixty seconds. Slowly standing, eyes regal and demanding she wrote back "no, I won't" Shiver and shake and she's suddenly awake power walking to a house near the river.
0
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
madeleine-toerne
Wigwam Afternoon Nap
Underneath a small lee in the park, she tapered down so small; sapling pine tree. Furled a wool blanket like a tootsie roll used as a pillow and rolled into sleep. Scene-by-scene dreamed of bedroom encounters enacted on beds of flowers. Remembered the words of harmonica blowing boys verbatim as the dream shifted scene for half an hour. And a small, four-leafed local sage man came at an importune time and to write her a note. Succinctly and politely bargaining with her; "Would you give up lust for pure reason?" Turning away briskly, she glanced toward a stump sat down for a ponderous sixty seconds. Slowly standing, eyes regal and demanding she wrote back "no, I won't" Shiver and shake and she's suddenly awake power walking to a house near the river.
Continue reading...
18