"wan" poems
Chewie hasn’t touched his food
I hope he’ll be o.k..
It hasn’t been the same for him
Since Leia passed away.
He’s a melancholy Wookie
as anyone can see.
He mopes around the ship all day
And he’s molting terribly
Twas bad enough when Obi-wan
was struck down by Darth Vader.
But it’s no surprise when an old man dies
That’s expected, now or later.
Our Princess was a force you see
Bringing gales of laughter
which is why we want her here
and not in the hereafter.
He’s a melancholy Wookie
as anyone can see.
He mopes around the ship all day
And he’s molting terribly.
I hope one day we’ll meet again
In Mos Eisley’s Cantina
That gold bikini may not fit
But we’d still be glad to see her.
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 1:42 PM UTC
me truck
me truck is where i get my luck
good luck, bad luck, nice luck
me truck stunk like a skunk
that seems like bad luck
but it was the good skunk
the wan that gets u bunked
me cat has a bad case of lice
no more chasing ***** mice
the stupid thing only eats rice
the ganga it smokes is so nice
it somkes great out of me pipe
my truck makes me lots of money
me honey likes me money
me brain aint very funny
i also aint a big smarty
so me truck is me only option
i like it, its so very nice
almost as good as mariwawa
otherwise known as de ganga
good bye
tank u truck
for me money and me food
to feed me fam
and me ganga addiction
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
Forgivness Is Not A Matter Of Whether Or Not You Deserve It
- It Is A Question Of Whether Or Not I Wan't Peace
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
No-one told the snowdrops
that the world is coming to an end
that there is no sense in trying anymore
that darkness has finally defeated the light
And ignorant of the truth
they push once more
through the mould and grit
raising their heads above ground
Stopping me in my tracks.
Oh yes! Things used to live here!
The wan Scottish sun used to warm us
and the endless pounding rain slaked thirst
and pumped like blood into new life and hope.
How did we forget?
And they change everything.
They change everything.
They return the world to the state they need it to be in,
they are nodding heralds of the coming supernova
which will happen
with us
or
without us.
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 3:13 AM UTC
Maligamgam na hangin halina sa mukha ko'y magdampi,
Nag-aantay ng pagbukas ng kalawakan kasama ang pusong sawi.
Ngunit walang na bang liwanag sa aking b'wan?
Mga maswerte kong bitwin, hindi na rin mahanap kung saan.
Tinakpan na ng maiitim na kaulapan.
Nagbabadya na nga siguro ang taglamig na panahon
Nililimot ang mga bakas ng kahapon
May mga araw na dapat pa atang bilangin
Tanging kasama, natatanging maligamgam kong hangin.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 7:50 AM UTC
a wan moonlight wades
the pond of the cold tiled floor
beaming existence
I could look up yet choose a
reflection of its presence
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
(To Sarah Bernhardt)
How vain and dull this common world must seem
To such a One as thou, who should’st have talked
At Florence with Mirandola, or walked
Through the cool olives of the Academe:
Thou should’st have gathered reeds from a green stream
For Goat-foot Pan’s shrill piping, and have played
With the white girls in that Phaeacian glade
Where grave Odysseus wakened from his dream.
Ah! surely once some urn of Attic clay
Held thy wan dust, and thou hast come again
Back to this common world so dull and vain,
For thou wert weary of the sunless day,
The heavy fields of scentless asphodel,
The loveless lips with which men kiss in Hell.
8.1k
Whirlpool of insanity
the beast stands coy
bound to humanity
A sadist and her toy
Fear its brutality
Our fists churn like
tides of a blood-lusted sea
Saliva soaked spite
rhapsodizing over gluttony
It's never enough
we wan't it all
The world we corrupt
a sadist and her rag doll
Matriarch of the puppets
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC
I'm empty inside
No one can See
Through the flesh mask
They wan't me to be
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
I am a monster of my own creation, yet
Unnamed.
I'm the doctor and the beast he wrought.
My face is wan, and eyes sunken; Strong and capable, but fated
for destruction.
Come, wave your flaming rods and I'll run for the hills.
Find me a cave where I can sit in a viscous
black tar silence.
Ears to knees pulsing from
what adorns me
These fears
like trinkets, leaden filigree spell them out.
But fear is an anxious heat and a flirt.
I'm drawn into a seductive
reunion with the chilled ground.
If you're lonely you may visit and behold this undoing.
"More weight!"
I'll scream,
until my bones are white ash and my organs are muddy
puddles
and I can, at last, declare I've accomplished something.
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC
My feet sweat, my shoulders burn
But I am indifferent.
Nature plays around me.
Close your eyes. The last thing you see
is a white butterfly dance past the tree-line
into oblivion blue.
Bush leaves crackle above you in branches
and below you, let loose through brittle grass.
A light wind conducts a symphony in which
Each shrub plays a part.
Each dry branch, kindling ready to explode,
Itching to snap its dangerously perfect note.
Thorns whistle sharply - reeds hiss and hum.
Every breeze is a clown, taking up instruments
And jostling melodies to play all at once.
The grass rushes to its queue, dry as a bone.
Leaves follow behind in vague harmonies.
I wait on the edge of an eventful storm.
The sky is blue.
A storm of events - something big,
Behind the horizon, behind the mirage.
A rhino.
A microlite .
Electric fences, purring.
A wan nation celebrates, then groans behind the hills.
Natures orchestra sings to no one in particular
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
I sit across from you at lunch
but your to busy hanging with you bunch
to know I'm there
you only care
when i get in your way
Listen to what I have to say
because you and me are the same
but you act like I'm nothing
like I'm a punching bag
your to busy to push
like the trash
your to lazy to take out
You make me wan a shout
because you can't see me
through my invisibility
but that's on me
you see I have brick walls
but you don't try to break my walls
and thats not your fault
or your problem
and maybe I'm the one wrong
mad at others because I have walls
but my invisibility stays strong
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
we hail from synonyms
replicate those isles of dirt
jagged colossal terrains of earth
which sprouts to scrape
the wisps of pearly clouds
where marble and stone
splintered scorches of gnarled bark
where the soft paws of preying lions
roam within the sea of swaying golden grass
where each stroke of a feathered wing
flourishes the air with its mighty swing
and the threshold of mysterious beings
idle in mischief of deep blue seas
and those salty shores
swallow the iron hulk of ships
and ferocious savages of nature's call
groaning in mourn for her body
her crevasses and pools of spilling
crystal cerulean water
where the malachite moss
sits in stone of endless time
and trees groomed of wind and sun
prideful beneath the drink of the setting morrow
she yearns for the claim of her shape
for the purity of her waters like blood
her parched throat of sandy desert lands
amputated into wells of gorging oil
she suffocates from her very existence
a poison to herself
and as the days wan to a fast massacre
to her own suicidal mission
to feed our negligence
we label:
humanity
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
god gloats upon Her stunning flesh. Upon
the rechings of Her green body among
unseen things, things obscene (Whose fingers young
the caving ages curiously con)
—but the lunge of Her hunger softly flung
over the gasping shores
leaves his smile wan,
and his blood stopped hears in the frail anon
the shovings and the lovings of Her tongue.
god Is The Sea. All terrors of his being
quake before this its hideous Work most old
Whose battening gesture prophecies a freeing
of ghostly chaos
in this dangerous night
through moaned space god worships God—
(behold!
where chaste stars writhe captured in brightening fright)
6.8k
Obi-wan once told Anakin
'This weapon is your life.'
mine isn't nearly as powerful -
a tough blade,
black handle,
a silver glow
yet somehow the quote still applies.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
Never on this side of the grave again,
On this side of the river,
On this side of the garner of the grain,
Never,--
Ever while time flows on and on and on,
That narrow noiseless river,
Ever while corn bows heavy-headed, wan,
Ever,--
Never despairing, often fainting, ruing,
But looking back, ah never!
Faint yet pursuing, faint yet still pursuing
Ever.
6.5k
All Greece hates
the still eyes in the white face,
the lustre as of olives
where she stands,
and the white hands.
All Greece reviles
the wan face when she smiles,
hating it deeper still
when it grows wan and white,
remembering past enchantments
and past ills.
Greece sees, unmoved,
God's daughter, born of love,
the beauty of cool feet
and slenderest knees,
could love indeed the maid,
only if she were laid,
white ash amid funereal cypresses.
6.4k
When all desire at last and all regret
Go hand in hand to death, and all is vain,
What shall assuage the unforgotten pain
And teach the unforgetful to forget?
Shall Peace be still a sunk stream long unmet,—
Or may the soul at once in a green plain
Stoop through the spray of some sweet life-fountain
And cull the dew-drenched flowering amulet?
Ah! when the wan soul in that golden air
Between the scriptured petals softly blown
Peers breathless for the gift of grace unknown,
Ah! let none other written spell soe’er
But only the one Hope’s one name be there,—
Not less nor more, but even that word alone.
6.3k
He Was Hardworking
A Real Hardworking Man
But Even Hardworking Men Come Home
A Man Need A Home
Poor Loving Unstable Mother
Never Noticing A Thing
Just Loving Her Hardworking Man
Just Loving Her Child
First Time Fist's Flying
The Hardworking Man Loving The Mother
Never Loving The Child
No Love For Another Mans Spawn
Second Time Fist's Flying
I Know - I Will Tell Mother
Mother Will Make Things Right
Mother Is Loving
Third Time Fist's Flying
Stop Or I Will Tell Mother
Tell Mother And She Will Die
You Really Wan't To **** A Loving Mother?
Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh
Losing Count
Day And Night Fist's Flying
Tell Mother And She Will Die
Back, Chest, Arms, Legs
Blue, Yellow And Black
But Never The Face
Otherwise Mothers Love Will **** Her
Always Locked Up
Hidden Away From Mothers Love
Do I Deserve This?
Is This My Fault?
Suddenly No More
The Hardworking Man
No More Love From Mother
No One Left To Blame
But Where Is Mothers Love
Mother Is Right Here
Disappeared With A Man
Mother Destroyed By Love
I Sure Miss My Loving Mother
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 7:53 AM UTC
You should have been the soul that Edgar Allen Poe loved,
So that he wouldn't have died miserable and alone,
You are the Morticia to my Gomez; deadly in love,
We would make a quirky Addams family, bar none,
I love the nerds in us and the banter of annoyance,
I love the moments of radiant love and our nature of being different,
'Cause we did meet exceptionally over persistence,
And we accept each other regardless of difference,
I wish that our love will remain eternal,
Narrated by Obi-Wan,
With a theme song by John Williams,
Directed by Lucas, nah, we don't need direction,
I do know, we need a Queen, and that's you my puddin'!
Leia to my Solo,
A Queen-B-lovin'-Quinn to my Joker,
A die-hard Drake lover with a heart for the Dark Side,
This Vader loves his Amidala, xoxoxo,
We would revel on any side but the holy!
May this love never fade, and be full of surprises,
But not the kind where there is nasi lemak with no ikan bilis!
But you make the best **** nasi lemak, sigh,
I'm forever grateful for my Babloo
I'm forever grateful that you're by my side,
My Annabel Lee, I'm grateful Poe never met you,
'Cause you're all mine!
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 9:35 PM UTC
A Rock there is whose homely front
The passing traveller slights;
Yet there the glow-worms hang their lamps,
Like stars, at various heights;
And one coy Primrose to that Rock
The vernal breeze invites.
What hideous warfare hath been waged,
What kingdoms overthrown,
Since first I spied that Primrose-tuft
And marked it for my own;
A lasting link in Nature’s chain
From highest heaven let down!
The flowers, still faithful to the stems,
Their fellowship renew;
The stems are faithful to the root,
That worketh out of view;
And to the rock the root adheres
In every fibre true.
Close clings to earth the living rock,
Though threatening still to fall:
The earth is constant to her sphere;
And God upholds them all:
So blooms this lonely Plant, nor dreads
Her annual funeral.
* * * * * *
Here closed the meditative strain;
But air breathed soft that day,
The hoary mountain-heights were cheered,
The sunny vale looked gay;
And to the Primrose of the Rock
I gave this after-lay.
I sang-Let myriads of bright flowers,
Like Thee, in field and grove
Revive unenvied;—mightier far,
Than tremblings that reprove
Our vernal tendencies to hope,
Is God’s redeeming love;
That love which changed-for wan disease,
For sorrow that had bent
O’er hopeless dust, for withered age—
Their moral element,
And turned the thistles of a curse
To types beneficent.
Sin-blighted though we are, we too,
The reasoning Sons of Men,
From one oblivious winter called
Shall rise, and breathe again;
And in eternal summer lose
Our threescore years and ten.
To humbleness of heart descends
This prescience from on high,
The faith that elevates the just,
Before and when they die;
And makes each soul a separate heaven
A court for Deity.
5.4k
Frail the white rose and frail are
Her hands that gave
Whose soul is sere and paler
Than time's wan wave.
Rosefrail and fair -- yet frailest
A wonder wild
In gentle eyes thou veilest,
My blueveined child.
5k
you say i'm mature
but i'm not sure
is there a cure
i wan't to be a child
something untamed and wild
perfect innocence
i require deliverance
from my own mind
i will no longer be confined
by foolish social responsibilities
i will be measured on my own abilities
and not by peoples twisted perception
this is not self deception, i merely am a exception
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 9:18 PM UTC
“Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Oh my Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
Where were you, when the woe was tossed, and I had to cry?
“Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Oh my Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
Muddled in the crowds, and I was lost, wan-ting to die.
My head wasn’t clear but I saw you there; apple of my eye-I!
“Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Oh my Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
We twin snakes, on a path above, and we circled ‘round,
Three nights and a day, and we fell in love, tearing up the town,
…but nothing can compare to the time we shared, and the fires-flare in our hearts -ensnared,
For your love I long, but you are dead and gone; My Butterfly!
“Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Oh my Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
And that will never change, tears of my heart in chains,
No love will be the same, I hang my head in shame, hiding all the pain;
My Butterfly!
“Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Oh my Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Oh my Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”
“Butterfly-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-eye!”*
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 6:22 PM UTC
Walking out 'upon-the-grass,'
found myself a-lone.
Roses, trees, the walking paths,
a second sort of home.
How did,
how did I...
How did I get this way?
*People in the park at night,
find themselves a-lone.
People in the park at night,
wandering, -no home.
Silhouetted moving shades,
invisible by day.
People in the park at night,
-not people now they say.
and they,
they are...
-just wandering away,
-wandering away.*
Laying up against the Oak,
Father I am home.
Open skies, see stars amass,
I am not a-lone?
Why was this my destined path?
How did I get this way?
*People in the park at night,
they are not a-lone.
People in the park at night,
WAN-DER-ING BUT HOME.
Silhouetted moving shades,
invisible by day.
People in the park at night,
-not people now they say!
PEOPLE IN THE PARK AT NIGHT,
lost along the way.
SLEEPING IN THE PARK TO-NIGHT,
crumbling; they fray.*
Lord why?
why are things...
why are things...
Why are things this way?
Falling from this life at last,
found I'm not alone?
Jesus came to see me pass,
said
"Nev-ver were you a-lone."
*People in the park at night,
see themselves a-lone.
People in the park to-night,
not wandering but home...*
Never are they alone.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 12:53 AM UTC