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"whammy" poems
The last kiss from you Lasted like a huddle in The snow blitz Rocking my anatomy In the frosty glitz The last words from you That barged in my eardrum You were in a hurry To smell a new leaf Draped in a diamond dew The last gifts from you Was an instrument Which still I use To recognize people Or to refuse! The last time You said I love you I remember I was laughing Hysterically as if I was watching Jared Leto’s jaded mimicry of Joker in YouTube Intriguingly, when the last time I saw you **** It felt like pretty Ivanka’s embarrassment Noticing her dad is a lewd The last time I was chatting With you on Facebook I was wondering why I shouldn't hack your account? To check your inbox Yea, it was filled with the message of ******* F- Bombs, **** shaming and tagging you as harlot All they were asking was your service of escort Either in full discount or in hefty cash drops! The last time I wrote A letter of love to you I discovered my Keyboard Began to blurt out No more, No more, No more… The last time I had a chit-chat With you in the Burger King or Pizza Hut I listened to your hissing clack-clack That someone else has become your puppy cat… The last time I became sick When I was with you I heard you threw a party Where you were whispering To your besties, how I become your double whammy! The last time I was With you in the bed I felt like I was indentured To **** a dummy toy Sans spirit and flesh! Loving you was like Santa Claus gifted me With a Pandora’s Box As soon as I opened it You decided to release Our *** tape of your having ****** In pornhub’s forum of interracial! The last time I heard of you Is that you were giving an interview To The Cosmopolitan’s board of review Facing the barrage of inquisitions You calmly joked, the series Of latest uproar about you In the social media or Internet Is because certain people always Love to rave about Women’s body Shoving in and out of their pigeonhole With their one night stand queen trophy To flavor your form in their fantasmic mouth You also smirked in a raspy voice Defiantly declaring “we (women) Have been locked indoors With no air, no food, no water” My last boyfriend is also no exception He certainly thinks I came this far Through ******* and deception
0
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
Abracadabra
Oppressive patriarchy or self-imposed victim hood- Hasan Maruf
The last kiss from you Lasted like a huddle in The snow blitz Rocking my anatomy In the frosty glitz The last words from you That barged in my eardrum You were in a hurry To smell a new leaf Draped in a diamond dew The last gifts from you Was an instrument Which still I use To recognize people Or to refuse! The last time You said I love you I remember I was laughing Hysterically as if I was watching Jared Leto’s jaded mimicry of Joker in YouTube Intriguingly, when the last time I saw you **** It felt like pretty Ivanka’s embarrassment Noticing her dad is a lewd The last time I was chatting With you on Facebook I was wondering why I shouldn't hack your account? To check your inbox Yea, it was filled with the message of ******* F- Bombs, **** shaming and tagging you as harlot All they were asking was your service of escort Either in full discount or in hefty cash drops! The last time I wrote A letter of love to you I discovered my Keyboard Began to blurt out No more, No more, No more… The last time I had a chit-chat With you in the Burger King or Pizza Hut I listened to your hissing clack-clack That someone else has become your puppy cat… The last time I became sick When I was with you I heard you threw a party Where you were whispering To your besties, how I become your double whammy! The last time I was With you in the bed I felt like I was indentured To **** a dummy toy Sans spirit and flesh! Loving you was like Santa Claus gifted me With a Pandora’s Box As soon as I opened it You decided to release Our *** tape of your having ****** In pornhub’s forum of interracial! The last time I heard of you Is that you were giving an interview To The Cosmopolitan’s board of review Facing the barrage of inquisitions You calmly joked, the series Of latest uproar about you In the social media or Internet Is because certain people always Love to rave about Women’s body Shoving in and out of their pigeonhole With their one night stand queen trophy To flavor your form in their fantasmic mouth You also smirked in a raspy voice Defiantly declaring “we (women) Have been locked indoors With no air, no food, no water” My last boyfriend is also no exception He certainly thinks I came this far Through ******* and deception
Continue reading...
78
**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy. As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures. Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being. Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the spunk. If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself. Fuck your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses. Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge. Cock sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man. Nevertheless let this not ********* you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion. Touch yourself. To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches. Neither be cheeky about ****** ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist. Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness. Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity. But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings. Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness. Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself. You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end. And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should. Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** intercourse. With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory. Stand pert. Die in the attempt to be boozed up.
0
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 3:32 PM UTC
irma-cerrutti
Desiderata
**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy. As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures. Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being. Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the spunk. If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself. Fuck your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses. Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge. Cock sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man. Nevertheless let this not ********* you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion. Touch yourself. To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches. Neither be cheeky about ****** ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist. Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness. Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity. But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings. Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness. Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself. You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end. And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should. Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** intercourse. With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory. Stand pert. Die in the attempt to be boozed up.
Continue reading...
1
Adam touches down in heaven upon the high. But his highwater mark wasn’t solely one way. He could hear the jingle upon the high resonates beneath the ground! He could see the cloud forms on the top and rains down to the ground. Bow down on the earth and rise high. Lo, the golden spiral too, curves downward before spiking high up.
0
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 9:02 AM UTC
shofi-ahmed
Adam's Double Whammy
Adam touches down in heaven upon the high. But his highwater mark wasn’t solely one way. He could hear the jingle upon the high resonates beneath the ground! He could see the cloud forms on the top and rains down to the ground. Bow down on the earth and rise high. Lo, the golden spiral too, curves downward before spiking high up.
Continue reading...
15
a passing balloon piece, his, within in a message, makes the imagery explode with numerous contractions, even confusions, and requires an explaining explication and a fresh application of sealant men see the words ~ think war or football, women think of the lyric, phrase in a sad love ballad that means recall, and a moistening  tear drop that liquifies but doesn’t drop but that word, pulverized,  has an enormity attached, that conjures destruction total, s battlefield’s aftermath, tree stumps cut down, synchronized with bodies in parts, sole souls departing without reasoning/justification the lineage upon her face, pulverized by sorrow and no expectations for the morrow, gaveled into existence, by losses and carried for a length of  a term ill defined, as “life” with no hint of irony, for it’s not life when  it’s spent reminiscing remembering the dismemberment of what was a joy taken instantly and perpetually inexplicabe the tragedies multicolored in black, a solid stolid state that nary a meter, talking centi’s here, pinch of breeze and /or hurricane alters status quo, both of us have long known that, but we nonetheless pick up grains, single alphabet scrambled pieces to put the whole together again, but it’s a cause hopeless cause we be are pulverized inside so the chorded chore is a double whammy and still and yet we say but, for we cannot stop our fingers from their appointed rounds and we think in term not of hope but a thought out louded, the eternal question, what if we do not try?
0
Sep 30, 2024
Sep 30, 2024 at 10:18 AM UTC
dead-rose-one
“The pulverized line”
a passing balloon piece, his, within in a message, makes the imagery explode with numerous contractions, even confusions, and requires an explaining explication and a fresh application of sealant men see the words ~ think war or football, women think of the lyric, phrase in a sad love ballad that means recall, and a moistening  tear drop that liquifies but doesn’t drop but that word, pulverized,  has an enormity attached, that conjures destruction total, s battlefield’s aftermath, tree stumps cut down, synchronized with bodies in parts, sole souls departing without reasoning/justification the lineage upon her face, pulverized by sorrow and no expectations for the morrow, gaveled into existence, by losses and carried for a length of  a term ill defined, as “life” with no hint of irony, for it’s not life when  it’s spent reminiscing remembering the dismemberment of what was a joy taken instantly and perpetually inexplicabe the tragedies multicolored in black, a solid stolid state that nary a meter, talking centi’s here, pinch of breeze and /or hurricane alters status quo, both of us have long known that, but we nonetheless pick up grains, single alphabet scrambled pieces to put the whole together again, but it’s a cause hopeless cause we be are pulverized inside so the chorded chore is a double whammy and still and yet we say but, for we cannot stop our fingers from their appointed rounds and we think in term not of hope but a thought out louded, the eternal question, what if we do not try?
Continue reading...
52
grow a beard... buy a jazz double-bass... start stroking it... attempt to look pensive... and then write some Cockney comedy... and?    **** Oxford.       **** 'em good; can't be, ******* arsed...           where's a ******* jazz double bass the kind i need to stand up to play?! where?!     gone, "nowhere"...         Achilles would sooner find a tortoise, you ******* half-whit bull bullock base catcher... yummy yummy... no ******* double whammy if there ain't a greasy dough nnnnnnnn in my mouth oozing a squid's mating call... from the Jules Verne estimate of how... big the ******* could become... oh please...    **** is a conjunction word... akin to and...      spew effect, regurgitation, founded upon... so... so... farting in a public place is less offensive than uttering a word of oath?! **** me...     more **** less ***** images... i guess that's how you habitually attack Christian h'america... **** **** **** and impose a curb of a ***** show me the puppies kitchen ***** Kentucky style **** ******* wankers... dreaming up some **** in long lost Cockney rhyming slang for some: willkommen zu verirrt amstetten... .................... ................................... .............. ................ SCHMILE... boorish ******* gnomes dancing the leprechaun gamblers' dance... skivvy ************* sure... censor the words... but god forbid you censor showing all the ******* because... if you do? guess what... i might forget my farming impulse... of imagining a a cleavage to also imply a pork buttocks... funny... how a show of cleavage is synonymous with a show of pork buttocks... and then i begin thinking of milking... which throws a ***** **** out with the baby and the bathwater and... i'm shinging... what's that name of the place?! New Orleans! yeah... like some minstrel in that part of the world that part of the world that's a ******** what?! you spew on me... i spew on you... we can at least exchange... what we "love" about each other... but i implore! i implore! visit Warsaw! alone... no, not with other people... ah-loan - a-l-o-n-e.... i'll be your companion, when you peer at your shadow, and attempt, to pretend, to disappear.
0
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 8:48 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
Wankers United
grow a beard... buy a jazz double-bass... start stroking it... attempt to look pensive... and then write some Cockney comedy... and?    **** Oxford.       **** 'em good; can't be, ******* arsed...           where's a ******* jazz double bass the kind i need to stand up to play?! where?!     gone, "nowhere"...         Achilles would sooner find a tortoise, you ******* half-whit bull bullock base catcher... yummy yummy... no ******* double whammy if there ain't a greasy dough nnnnnnnn in my mouth oozing a squid's mating call... from the Jules Verne estimate of how... big the ******* could become... oh please...    **** is a conjunction word... akin to and...      spew effect, regurgitation, founded upon... so... so... farting in a public place is less offensive than uttering a word of oath?! **** me...     more **** less ***** images... i guess that's how you habitually attack Christian h'america... **** **** **** and impose a curb of a ***** show me the puppies kitchen ***** Kentucky style **** ******* wankers... dreaming up some **** in long lost Cockney rhyming slang for some: willkommen zu verirrt amstetten... .................... ................................... .............. ................ SCHMILE... boorish ******* gnomes dancing the leprechaun gamblers' dance... skivvy ************* sure... censor the words... but god forbid you censor showing all the ******* because... if you do? guess what... i might forget my farming impulse... of imagining a a cleavage to also imply a pork buttocks... funny... how a show of cleavage is synonymous with a show of pork buttocks... and then i begin thinking of milking... which throws a ***** **** out with the baby and the bathwater and... i'm shinging... what's that name of the place?! New Orleans! yeah... like some minstrel in that part of the world that part of the world that's a ******** what?! you spew on me... i spew on you... we can at least exchange... what we "love" about each other... but i implore! i implore! visit Warsaw! alone... no, not with other people... ah-loan - a-l-o-n-e.... i'll be your companion, when you peer at your shadow, and attempt, to pretend, to disappear.
Continue reading...
104
There was a Double Rainbow in the sky, over my house today, Any special meaning there you say? Double Luck, Double Trouble, Double Dip, Double Bubble, Double Up, Double Down, Double Dutch, Double Duty, Double Play, Double Header, Double Cross, Double Jeopardy, Double Negative, Double Genitive, Double Dealings, Double Whammy. Double Jointed, Double Hung, Double Pleasure, Double Fun. I'm quite sure I could go on like this, Beyond the ordinary, If only I had   my copy of Mister Webster's Dictionary. Working this over in my mind, running it up and running it over. The best conclusion I can reach, Two stripe rainbows are nothing more, than what you see and what you think. A pretty painting in the sky, and hence Of no other particular consequence.
0
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
stephen-e-yocum
Rainbow
There was a Double Rainbow in the sky, over my house today, Any special meaning there you say? Double Luck, Double Trouble, Double Dip, Double Bubble, Double Up, Double Down, Double Dutch, Double Duty, Double Play, Double Header, Double Cross, Double Jeopardy, Double Negative, Double Genitive, Double Dealings, Double Whammy. Double Jointed, Double Hung, Double Pleasure, Double Fun. I'm quite sure I could go on like this, Beyond the ordinary, If only I had   my copy of Mister Webster's Dictionary. Working this over in my mind, running it up and running it over. The best conclusion I can reach, Two stripe rainbows are nothing more, than what you see and what you think. A pretty painting in the sky, and hence Of no other particular consequence.
Continue reading...
23
why make videos these days... they're easy target, for people who read, or largely (pretend to) read...    the bare minimum...    journalists with the equivalent of the bare minimum of journalism:   namely?                                   literacy. a journalist these days... wow!              they can read! they can write! read & write?! **** me! a double whammy!   you sure we shouldn't ascribe them policing stature &                                authority?! like...                                   simultaneously?! let's face it... they have investigate the double curriculum venture... we know how donkeys play the bet...        they gamble with a worth of a carrot, and always return with stick's worth of motivation to gamble stupid once more.
0
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
modern day criticism of journalism
why make videos these days... they're easy target, for people who read, or largely (pretend to) read...    the bare minimum...    journalists with the equivalent of the bare minimum of journalism:   namely?                                   literacy. a journalist these days... wow!              they can read! they can write! read & write?! **** me! a double whammy!   you sure we shouldn't ascribe them policing stature &                                authority?! like...                                   simultaneously?! let's face it... they have investigate the double curriculum venture... we know how donkeys play the bet...        they gamble with a worth of a carrot, and always return with stick's worth of motivation to gamble stupid once more.
Continue reading...
30
We ate chicken sandwiches, mine no bun, at a table with an 80's geometric design on top of two silver metal legs with our legs intertwined. I tried to draw a comic on the wrapper, but you kept making me laugh by reenacting the conversation we had with the lady at the register who gave us the wrong change, but using a baby's voice instead. The boy mopping the floors wished desperately that we would leave, but you looked so cute with ketchup on your lip and I really, really didn't want you to drop me off. There was an Adele song on the radio that we've heard for the second time, but you sound more like a forgotten track to a John Hughes film-- a little heavy, a little messed up, a whammy bar progression with blonde hair who wore jeans and had a really cool car. I'd like to kiss you like Molly Ringwald does Judd Nelson in that movie we talked the whole way through as it played on Netflix. I'd like to wear you like a bad haircut; something no one else understands but I pull off effortlessly. You feel effortless to me. So refill my take-out cup with five different sodas, make a scene as we leave the restaurant, my hand laced up in yours, and let me drink you in as I pretend we aren't driving back home just yet.
0
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 12:18 AM UTC
sophie-herzing
Second Dates
We ate chicken sandwiches, mine no bun, at a table with an 80's geometric design on top of two silver metal legs with our legs intertwined. I tried to draw a comic on the wrapper, but you kept making me laugh by reenacting the conversation we had with the lady at the register who gave us the wrong change, but using a baby's voice instead. The boy mopping the floors wished desperately that we would leave, but you looked so cute with ketchup on your lip and I really, really didn't want you to drop me off. There was an Adele song on the radio that we've heard for the second time, but you sound more like a forgotten track to a John Hughes film-- a little heavy, a little messed up, a whammy bar progression with blonde hair who wore jeans and had a really cool car. I'd like to kiss you like Molly Ringwald does Judd Nelson in that movie we talked the whole way through as it played on Netflix. I'd like to wear you like a bad haircut; something no one else understands but I pull off effortlessly. You feel effortless to me. So refill my take-out cup with five different sodas, make a scene as we leave the restaurant, my hand laced up in yours, and let me drink you in as I pretend we aren't driving back home just yet.
Continue reading...
35
Oopy Doopy, Super Sloopy. Loopy snoopy, pants apoopy. Lippy hippy, slippy dippy. Nasty-nicey, normally snippy. Loosey goosey, chocolate moussey. Usually *** goofy as Gary Busey. Hinky-stinky presidential ***** Winky-blinky, dangerously stinko. Hippity hoppy, flippy-floppy Get a mop, it never stops. Laughy gaffe-y, riffy-raffy Face as gross as rotten taffy. Whammy-bammy, scary scammy Mammy-jamming Uncle Sammy. Lumpy-dumpy, far from humpy ******* up future jumpy bumpy. Glossy boss, a frightful loss Ungathered moss at twice the cost. Serious gap while the country naps ****** sap giving us a slap. Frightening nooses tightening, Rights denied like summer lightning. Ignoring Popes and Snopes Hopeless dopes put us on the ropes. Immune to our cries, elected guys Make horrifying decisions most unwise. Like black magic before all our eyes We’re leaderless as freedom dies.
0
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
brent-kincaid
FLIBBER FLABBER
Oopy Doopy, Super Sloopy. Loopy snoopy, pants apoopy. Lippy hippy, slippy dippy. Nasty-nicey, normally snippy. Loosey goosey, chocolate moussey. Usually *** goofy as Gary Busey. Hinky-stinky presidential ***** Winky-blinky, dangerously stinko. Hippity hoppy, flippy-floppy Get a mop, it never stops. Laughy gaffe-y, riffy-raffy Face as gross as rotten taffy. Whammy-bammy, scary scammy Mammy-jamming Uncle Sammy. Lumpy-dumpy, far from humpy ******* up future jumpy bumpy. Glossy boss, a frightful loss Ungathered moss at twice the cost. Serious gap while the country naps ****** sap giving us a slap. Frightening nooses tightening, Rights denied like summer lightning. Ignoring Popes and Snopes Hopeless dopes put us on the ropes. Immune to our cries, elected guys Make horrifying decisions most unwise. Like black magic before all our eyes We’re leaderless as freedom dies.
Continue reading...
28
All the money a blank check is worth for, could never compare to the true value, of an individual. There's always something special for everyone. Cause everyone is something special. The world just doesn't want you to know, that you matter. Cause they're afraid you're going to change a cycle, that's been orbiting' the earth, since before we were here. A circle-cycle, in it's simplicity is a double negative. Like the Devil getting cozy on a Demon's shoulder. Double whammy. Stop. **** this. I'm just cashed. Today. Tomorrow, will be BETTER.
0
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:54 PM UTC
Sacrelicious
The Devil & Demons. Double Negatives.
All the money a blank check is worth for, could never compare to the true value, of an individual. There's always something special for everyone. Cause everyone is something special. The world just doesn't want you to know, that you matter. Cause they're afraid you're going to change a cycle, that's been orbiting' the earth, since before we were here. A circle-cycle, in it's simplicity is a double negative. Like the Devil getting cozy on a Demon's shoulder. Double whammy. Stop. **** this. I'm just cashed. Today. Tomorrow, will be BETTER.
Continue reading...
40
Numb deep within Can't feel my feet Up to my heart Do i exist? Anytime i feel It hurts Everyrhing races i am afriad I can't remeber Ever belonging Not in a social sense Or being real I get too tired I feel as a child Seeing monsters Giant man eating Lobsters Demons running amok Every breath of mine is bad Luck I swear to god I belong in a mental institute Im not real Are you? I'm alone Ive been alone forever And ever more I'll be alone My life is flashing It's all been so quick And I've hated every second Of my breathing I miss my mother I miss my brothers My whole family I think played a big whammy They must be fake too My scared eyes sometimes see Through Theres a veil you see Doctors say it's anxiety Thats a lie to keep me busy We aren't real I'm so scared I can't describe this fear It never leaves me I'm shivering and afraid The monsters coming to consume me Look hard enough You'll see real mosnters Slenderman and demons Theyre all real Mocking us Im still a little girl Sad and afriad of the world All i see is fear and creatures Lurking with no ****** features No one will hold me My soul is ******* empty Is god real Why won't he answer me He probabaly is around And ignoring me That is the theme of my Reality Can someone just hold me Let me forget my dark reality Im so ******* afraid I must be extremely brave I see demons larger then i can comprehend Yet i go out and still stand If someone held me And didn't leave Maybe for ahwile I would feel real And not as a scared Child
0
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 4:46 AM UTC
HelloDaisies
Afraid
Numb deep within Can't feel my feet Up to my heart Do i exist? Anytime i feel It hurts Everyrhing races i am afriad I can't remeber Ever belonging Not in a social sense Or being real I get too tired I feel as a child Seeing monsters Giant man eating Lobsters Demons running amok Every breath of mine is bad Luck I swear to god I belong in a mental institute Im not real Are you? I'm alone Ive been alone forever And ever more I'll be alone My life is flashing It's all been so quick And I've hated every second Of my breathing I miss my mother I miss my brothers My whole family I think played a big whammy They must be fake too My scared eyes sometimes see Through Theres a veil you see Doctors say it's anxiety Thats a lie to keep me busy We aren't real I'm so scared I can't describe this fear It never leaves me I'm shivering and afraid The monsters coming to consume me Look hard enough You'll see real mosnters Slenderman and demons Theyre all real Mocking us Im still a little girl Sad and afriad of the world All i see is fear and creatures Lurking with no ****** features No one will hold me My soul is ******* empty Is god real Why won't he answer me He probabaly is around And ignoring me That is the theme of my Reality Can someone just hold me Let me forget my dark reality Im so ******* afraid I must be extremely brave I see demons larger then i can comprehend Yet i go out and still stand If someone held me And didn't leave Maybe for ahwile I would feel real And not as a scared Child
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77
pupils pin eyes roll back your body shakes it needs the smack your mind it leaves it wonders off your brain is numb your senses lost the dope is near your viens they call they try to hide your skin it crawls sniff it smoke it slam it home you and the dope are now alone a bit to much and you dont come back your heart might stop cause it's attacked kiss your kids and say goodnight this next trip might just end your life senses soft your no longer boss the dope it has you at any cost lose your job lose your family lose your mind a triple whammy the devil once he's on your back he don't want off you've made a pact you live alone in your vacant mind thoughts of love and life gone by locked away but not to late help your mind revive it's fate it takes work and sacrafice to **** the devil and this life divorce this beast as fast as you can get back to life and being a man look to tomorrow and you will see a brighter future thats drug free the run is over time to get sober regain the chance to grow much older
0
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
michael-gagain
gone but not forgot
pupils pin eyes roll back your body shakes it needs the smack your mind it leaves it wonders off your brain is numb your senses lost the dope is near your viens they call they try to hide your skin it crawls sniff it smoke it slam it home you and the dope are now alone a bit to much and you dont come back your heart might stop cause it's attacked kiss your kids and say goodnight this next trip might just end your life senses soft your no longer boss the dope it has you at any cost lose your job lose your family lose your mind a triple whammy the devil once he's on your back he don't want off you've made a pact you live alone in your vacant mind thoughts of love and life gone by locked away but not to late help your mind revive it's fate it takes work and sacrafice to **** the devil and this life divorce this beast as fast as you can get back to life and being a man look to tomorrow and you will see a brighter future thats drug free the run is over time to get sober regain the chance to grow much older
Continue reading...
65
I died You shoved my head down and I won't fight You needed my heighth I needed your plenty, we sit still empty A world of more, although we feel poor We hit that Whammy Thank God the devil is cunning No possession just an impression I'm a point away from saying, "ok you can have it your way" Tonight I breathe tight and sleep with one eye Cheers to my fright I am always prepared for that last bite
0
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 3:12 AM UTC
Karajean
I brought fine wine
I died You shoved my head down and I won't fight You needed my heighth I needed your plenty, we sit still empty A world of more, although we feel poor We hit that Whammy Thank God the devil is cunning No possession just an impression I'm a point away from saying, "ok you can have it your way" Tonight I breathe tight and sleep with one eye Cheers to my fright I am always prepared for that last bite
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13
Early morning flight, you're in for the long haul but you toss and you turn and you just can't get any sleep so you board the night train and it keeps you up as it pulls out way too soon and through pitch dark you're speedballing you rock and you roll but you gather no moss as you slip and you slide as you try to find your way across a barren landscape of black ice The nomad follows the northern light hopes against hope for Holland in the night miles away from home, address unknown waiting for a sound or sight of heaven Next thing you know, you're a quarter down with no will to go on ordinarily there'll be three more but you really don't want to carry on just hold your horses for a little while reign them in, don't let them jump the gun and out the coach 'coz the midnight express is moving fast now it's the middle of a moonless night but Saturn casts its ugly shadow ringing in yet another re-rerun fashioning the grand return a shadow on the morning sun The geek's got prospects in Acapulco, dabs her pinprick eye and rides her white horse down the rabbit hole, milestone 24 but still no sound or sight of heaven So you pull the chain and bring the runaway train to a grinding halt and you step outside but it's not yet dawn as you shiver at the sight no there's no one in sight except that widow draped in a white cloth red lantern in hand at the door of a room at the far end of platform number one a light that shines like a beacon it beckons urging you to embrace the dark side but it still ain't what you asked for where are the bright arclights and the glares of the videocams? You thought you'd be a lamb but no one played the guide so you led yourself to the slaughter, sadly it ain't no pay-per-view, no broadcast live world over, HD you wished to be the voice of a vociferous generation but you're not no medallion, no trophy, no Grammy now you're in permanent rehab with nothing but a double whammy, you've neither life nor legacy as you show up for your great gig in the sky long before your time has come Led astray by the northern light all hope's lost on a brown Persian night no direction home from milestone 27 guess there never really was a heaven
0
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 3:21 AM UTC
causticji
Heaven
Early morning flight, you're in for the long haul but you toss and you turn and you just can't get any sleep so you board the night train and it keeps you up as it pulls out way too soon and through pitch dark you're speedballing you rock and you roll but you gather no moss as you slip and you slide as you try to find your way across a barren landscape of black ice The nomad follows the northern light hopes against hope for Holland in the night miles away from home, address unknown waiting for a sound or sight of heaven Next thing you know, you're a quarter down with no will to go on ordinarily there'll be three more but you really don't want to carry on just hold your horses for a little while reign them in, don't let them jump the gun and out the coach 'coz the midnight express is moving fast now it's the middle of a moonless night but Saturn casts its ugly shadow ringing in yet another re-rerun fashioning the grand return a shadow on the morning sun The geek's got prospects in Acapulco, dabs her pinprick eye and rides her white horse down the rabbit hole, milestone 24 but still no sound or sight of heaven So you pull the chain and bring the runaway train to a grinding halt and you step outside but it's not yet dawn as you shiver at the sight no there's no one in sight except that widow draped in a white cloth red lantern in hand at the door of a room at the far end of platform number one a light that shines like a beacon it beckons urging you to embrace the dark side but it still ain't what you asked for where are the bright arclights and the glares of the videocams? You thought you'd be a lamb but no one played the guide so you led yourself to the slaughter, sadly it ain't no pay-per-view, no broadcast live world over, HD you wished to be the voice of a vociferous generation but you're not no medallion, no trophy, no Grammy now you're in permanent rehab with nothing but a double whammy, you've neither life nor legacy as you show up for your great gig in the sky long before your time has come Led astray by the northern light all hope's lost on a brown Persian night no direction home from milestone 27 guess there never really was a heaven
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64
Set foot, stand on ground Wakes up early before kickdawn Rich in culture, filled with bask Thanks god, for every grain, for every rain,for every ray and another day. Back to fields , growing seeds Plucking the mist of irrational deeds Running the treadmill of ounce dearth. okay,let's count when no rain, an unreasonable pain Unseasonable rain, yet it flood the drains Glimmering sun, adhesive air, verdant emerald of vegies and corn Filled with sweat of one's brow They live life in a dense mess  Farmers are in complete distress  Apparantly with no fruitful harvest  The whammy bankers further oppress.  Their light erades like a blaze They in darkness try to elope But whirls in deep evil-twin And find life hard to cope  then they pick up a rope  And hang-up all their hopes! With this, one less counts the population And this is how it will end, the population count will decrease No doubt with cost of an earnest gem!
0
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
namangupta
Farmers
Set foot, stand on ground Wakes up early before kickdawn Rich in culture, filled with bask Thanks god, for every grain, for every rain,for every ray and another day. Back to fields , growing seeds Plucking the mist of irrational deeds Running the treadmill of ounce dearth. okay,let's count when no rain, an unreasonable pain Unseasonable rain, yet it flood the drains Glimmering sun, adhesive air, verdant emerald of vegies and corn Filled with sweat of one's brow They live life in a dense mess  Farmers are in complete distress  Apparantly with no fruitful harvest  The whammy bankers further oppress.  Their light erades like a blaze They in darkness try to elope But whirls in deep evil-twin And find life hard to cope  then they pick up a rope  And hang-up all their hopes! With this, one less counts the population And this is how it will end, the population count will decrease No doubt with cost of an earnest gem!
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28
Here I stand from the assailant of the world The burden I carry slows me from moving my feet The daggers they throw lacerated my being I stumbled with an agonized cry There's a whammy inside that I'm too frightened to fight It's the heap of gaze where believing was crushed. Perceiving the truth I am thrown underground A black abyss where screaming won't make any survive. Just when someone hand me his arm I submerged from the hole of what's draining my heart I thought I'm alone but the light stopped by The lightness He creates is blinding my eyes I learned that giving up will lose your mind Ignore the crowd that have push you. Auscultate what's it beating for. Reach for the peak and look at your feet. Everyone will gape and see what's beyond. You're a sky! That's high you'll become. -A 7/25/14
0
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 6:32 AM UTC
adelethewriter
Don't Give Up!
Here I stand from the assailant of the world The burden I carry slows me from moving my feet The daggers they throw lacerated my being I stumbled with an agonized cry There's a whammy inside that I'm too frightened to fight It's the heap of gaze where believing was crushed. Perceiving the truth I am thrown underground A black abyss where screaming won't make any survive. Just when someone hand me his arm I submerged from the hole of what's draining my heart I thought I'm alone but the light stopped by The lightness He creates is blinding my eyes I learned that giving up will lose your mind Ignore the crowd that have push you. Auscultate what's it beating for. Reach for the peak and look at your feet. Everyone will gape and see what's beyond. You're a sky! That's high you'll become. -A 7/25/14
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21
Death stared at me from the same recliner she always did. Her veins wrapped around her legs like spider webs. She poured pepper on her perogies and commentated for the TV, “No whammy, no whammy, no whammy, Stop.” I was too busy making plans on my phone. “Isn’t this nice?” Yes grandma She used to clean her Catholic church on Saturdays. I’d bring my toys she got me from McDonald's and ran my race cars through the ramps filled with holy water. She’d lay arms stretched before the alters and I’d follow suit, but only in play. Our devotion was not the same. “You make me so proud, my little Christian.” Yes grandma I’d spend nights for what must of been months, because she lived in town where the parties were. I was chasing tail, drugs and alcohol. We’d both pretend she had no idea at all. Our best conversation following a night of glassy eyes. What we said I can’t recall. Soon enough the pattern fell as I finished high school. I moved away and walked new halls, an undergraduate. It was in those halls my phone cried out and I soon after. I drove new roads my eyes a flowing well. We waited outside her room in vain. I would not get see her that day. I made a point to see her once she returned home. She now sunk where her rear was once plump. Her skin sagged relieved from the pressure. Fluid dripped out her lungs the color of Pepto Bismol, and they missed every second breath. Yet, she was beaming, “Look how skinny I am.” Yes grandma I’d only see her once more, after another trip. She slept in that same recliner as the TV played. Wispy white hair, thin pressed lips and tired eyes. Her head hung against her chest and I hid mine. My sister asked if I’d like to wake her just to say hi. I considered it, but thought better. “No, I'll catch her next time.”
0
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 5:39 PM UTC
gary_weyandt_
Cancer and Lies
Death stared at me from the same recliner she always did. Her veins wrapped around her legs like spider webs. She poured pepper on her perogies and commentated for the TV, “No whammy, no whammy, no whammy, Stop.” I was too busy making plans on my phone. “Isn’t this nice?” Yes grandma She used to clean her Catholic church on Saturdays. I’d bring my toys she got me from McDonald's and ran my race cars through the ramps filled with holy water. She’d lay arms stretched before the alters and I’d follow suit, but only in play. Our devotion was not the same. “You make me so proud, my little Christian.” Yes grandma I’d spend nights for what must of been months, because she lived in town where the parties were. I was chasing tail, drugs and alcohol. We’d both pretend she had no idea at all. Our best conversation following a night of glassy eyes. What we said I can’t recall. Soon enough the pattern fell as I finished high school. I moved away and walked new halls, an undergraduate. It was in those halls my phone cried out and I soon after. I drove new roads my eyes a flowing well. We waited outside her room in vain. I would not get see her that day. I made a point to see her once she returned home. She now sunk where her rear was once plump. Her skin sagged relieved from the pressure. Fluid dripped out her lungs the color of Pepto Bismol, and they missed every second breath. Yet, she was beaming, “Look how skinny I am.” Yes grandma I’d only see her once more, after another trip. She slept in that same recliner as the TV played. Wispy white hair, thin pressed lips and tired eyes. Her head hung against her chest and I hid mine. My sister asked if I’d like to wake her just to say hi. I considered it, but thought better. “No, I'll catch her next time.”
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40
we drank and smiled pull a card, see what you hit. hesitation in my eyes, as is usual because there's this risk, exposure, disclosure the fatal flaw that will give them a tool to see inside. this little game is nothing new and i've long been a mystery, unwilling to shed my lizard skin but to sit here, exposed in an open bar, inside, no escape. what could i do? pulling the card was easy, my method tried and true; shuffle, break, shuffle, draw. the coincidence of the draw, disarming. a double-whammy, it's the same card and i am numbed. well? they demand. rumbling around inside i reach, the meaning not lost. the words become hot tears in my mouth and i read. my apologies for the emotions foretold and forgiven it's okay but no it's not. strength does not come when you cry from the bench. when my knees bled, isn't that how it happened? those experiences, did they not strengthen me, but maybe not-maybe just the opposite. normalize it and we can move forward, but reach first cover your eyes, while you demand this from others. disarming and alarmed i struggle for composure. quickly the moment is lost, unsure of how or who is to thank, and even now i can't recall silence maybe? or was it the arrival of the check? my punishment, a realization one that cannot be silenced; it's in the weakness that the strength forms, in the stone's willingness to be tossed about with little direction unknown where it is to land and just getting polished and ready along the way.
0
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 5:06 AM UTC
stefaniasanfillipo
things long forgotten
we drank and smiled pull a card, see what you hit. hesitation in my eyes, as is usual because there's this risk, exposure, disclosure the fatal flaw that will give them a tool to see inside. this little game is nothing new and i've long been a mystery, unwilling to shed my lizard skin but to sit here, exposed in an open bar, inside, no escape. what could i do? pulling the card was easy, my method tried and true; shuffle, break, shuffle, draw. the coincidence of the draw, disarming. a double-whammy, it's the same card and i am numbed. well? they demand. rumbling around inside i reach, the meaning not lost. the words become hot tears in my mouth and i read. my apologies for the emotions foretold and forgiven it's okay but no it's not. strength does not come when you cry from the bench. when my knees bled, isn't that how it happened? those experiences, did they not strengthen me, but maybe not-maybe just the opposite. normalize it and we can move forward, but reach first cover your eyes, while you demand this from others. disarming and alarmed i struggle for composure. quickly the moment is lost, unsure of how or who is to thank, and even now i can't recall silence maybe? or was it the arrival of the check? my punishment, a realization one that cannot be silenced; it's in the weakness that the strength forms, in the stone's willingness to be tossed about with little direction unknown where it is to land and just getting polished and ready along the way.
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40
Take the time Give a gift Bust a ryth Drive the whammy To the charitable side. Wam wammer hammer Into her rise. Remember sweet 21 Honey buns? Remember Timely 27 fun young gun. Me and my wife Prowled the world and the sun We had a grandson, Time of our beloved.
0
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 9:44 PM UTC
tommy-jackson
Beloved 18 and 21
Take the time Give a gift Bust a ryth Drive the whammy To the charitable side. Wam wammer hammer Into her rise. Remember sweet 21 Honey buns? Remember Timely 27 fun young gun. Me and my wife Prowled the world and the sun We had a grandson, Time of our beloved.
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14
i don't know about you, but ******** out   a high-fibre ****                       out of your ***        feels just as good, if not more,         as good,        as having an ****** **** when that slug slides out?            thump! plop! ploop! given that... i can't imagine shoving anything up that alley...               there's too much pleasure easing something out from that cul de sac.... why would i even want to stick something in there? perhaps having ******** allows you to make that comparison...       taking a **** can feel just as good as having an ****** or urinating, with a ******** but that's just me...          we know how western society is oh so objective / "scientific"... so... why would we need food critics for? or wine critics?                 it either tastes great... or it tastes like **** if we're being so ******* scientific, do we need these scientific differentiations to be respected in our,        so called, society? who needs them?!     off to the guillotine with them, alongside that ***** of an antoinette! what sort of society prizes itself as being primordially-scientific, clueless ******* objective by my say, and then champions restaurant critics, or food critics... or critics for their own worth... what part of giving a critique of food is objective, to later bombast a stance for championing darwinism as the pinnacle of humanity's total worth?    maybe i missed something. anglophone wankers;     have a jerk-and-whammy on this crap! like all of engloosh science: robin hood, who could, but never would.
0
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
heterosexual panic
i don't know about you, but ******** out   a high-fibre ****                       out of your ***        feels just as good, if not more,         as good,        as having an ****** **** when that slug slides out?            thump! plop! ploop! given that... i can't imagine shoving anything up that alley...               there's too much pleasure easing something out from that cul de sac.... why would i even want to stick something in there? perhaps having ******** allows you to make that comparison...       taking a **** can feel just as good as having an ****** or urinating, with a ******** but that's just me...          we know how western society is oh so objective / "scientific"... so... why would we need food critics for? or wine critics?                 it either tastes great... or it tastes like **** if we're being so ******* scientific, do we need these scientific differentiations to be respected in our,        so called, society? who needs them?!     off to the guillotine with them, alongside that ***** of an antoinette! what sort of society prizes itself as being primordially-scientific, clueless ******* objective by my say, and then champions restaurant critics, or food critics... or critics for their own worth... what part of giving a critique of food is objective, to later bombast a stance for championing darwinism as the pinnacle of humanity's total worth?    maybe i missed something. anglophone wankers;     have a jerk-and-whammy on this crap! like all of engloosh science: robin hood, who could, but never would.
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52
The juxtaposition of me and you contrasting against what we had been through
0
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 4:21 AM UTC
stephanie-grace
Double whammy
The juxtaposition of me and you contrasting against what we had been through
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2
I have been growing Yet, still have fallen One step forwards And three back "A period of self reflection" It really is a double-whammy I had to and am having to learn to become an "adult" While learning not having you around I hope it's true "The first is always the worst" I really do hate to exacerbate I just don't if it'll ever be the same It haunts me, what you said On the phone call of guilt "It can never be the same" My loving bones trembled Of the guilt, there remains It was a life ago we loved You bid me farewell On my voyage to be better I am still not there I know it's all up to me But I hate to disappoint I hope to still see you then
0
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 2:38 AM UTC
DAPDL
Sprout
I have been growing Yet, still have fallen One step forwards And three back "A period of self reflection" It really is a double-whammy I had to and am having to learn to become an "adult" While learning not having you around I hope it's true "The first is always the worst" I really do hate to exacerbate I just don't if it'll ever be the same It haunts me, what you said On the phone call of guilt "It can never be the same" My loving bones trembled Of the guilt, there remains It was a life ago we loved You bid me farewell On my voyage to be better I am still not there I know it's all up to me But I hate to disappoint I hope to still see you then
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25
Wrote this this morning after I'd seen a Swedish singing star interviewed with torn, torn jeans talking about how he came to be no longer nervous when performing. Sing Your Song All Wrong As Long As It Feels Right (a prose poem - meter but no rhyme – well, a little) I used to be invisibly controlled by rules, Sometimes blamed on pressures peer: Perhaps I am still, will be ever. Rules inhibit, yea, dear reader, Leading art and your behavior. Double whammy*, inspiration, guide and model When you would most like to feel Creative, and spontaneous, Well pleased, extemporaneous. Subtle, so immensely, so intensely so; Astonishing how much one swallows, Soaking up, believing garbage as god’s truths So hard to scrap; All those rules coming from the praxis of the earthliest of mouths. What is it sought beyond all else? It’s freedom, spontaneity, Belief that what you’re doing Is its own confession, own possession; Valid as the others Always followed and believed the best. Now I’m older. Times have altered. Folk appear on television with torn jeans. Fashions once thought awful - trends. In the end, The young will always be impacted by ‘The others’ they think templates, Patterns, blueprints, guides. I have seen the light. Sing your song all wrong as long as it feels right. Sing Your Song All Wrong 4.21.2018 Vaguely About Music II; Our Times, Our Culture II; I Is Always You Is We; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin whammy |ˈ(h)wamē| noun ( pl. -mies) informal an event with a powerful and unpleasant effect; a blow : the third whammy was the degradation of the financial system. See also double whammy . • an evil or unlucky influence : I've come to put the whammy on them. ORIGIN 1940s: from the noun wham + -y 1 ; associated from the 1950s with the comic strip Li'l Abner, in which the hillbilly Evil-Eye Fleagle could “shoot a whammy” (put a curse on somebody) by pointing a finger with one eye open, and a [double whammy] with both eyes open.
0
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 7:12 AM UTC
arlene-corwin
Sing Your Song All Wrong As Long AS It Feels Right
Wrote this this morning after I'd seen a Swedish singing star interviewed with torn, torn jeans talking about how he came to be no longer nervous when performing. Sing Your Song All Wrong As Long As It Feels Right (a prose poem - meter but no rhyme – well, a little) I used to be invisibly controlled by rules, Sometimes blamed on pressures peer: Perhaps I am still, will be ever. Rules inhibit, yea, dear reader, Leading art and your behavior. Double whammy*, inspiration, guide and model When you would most like to feel Creative, and spontaneous, Well pleased, extemporaneous. Subtle, so immensely, so intensely so; Astonishing how much one swallows, Soaking up, believing garbage as god’s truths So hard to scrap; All those rules coming from the praxis of the earthliest of mouths. What is it sought beyond all else? It’s freedom, spontaneity, Belief that what you’re doing Is its own confession, own possession; Valid as the others Always followed and believed the best. Now I’m older. Times have altered. Folk appear on television with torn jeans. Fashions once thought awful - trends. In the end, The young will always be impacted by ‘The others’ they think templates, Patterns, blueprints, guides. I have seen the light. Sing your song all wrong as long as it feels right. Sing Your Song All Wrong 4.21.2018 Vaguely About Music II; Our Times, Our Culture II; I Is Always You Is We; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin whammy |ˈ(h)wamē| noun ( pl. -mies) informal an event with a powerful and unpleasant effect; a blow : the third whammy was the degradation of the financial system. See also double whammy . • an evil or unlucky influence : I've come to put the whammy on them. ORIGIN 1940s: from the noun wham + -y 1 ; associated from the 1950s with the comic strip Li'l Abner, in which the hillbilly Evil-Eye Fleagle could “shoot a whammy” (put a curse on somebody) by pointing a finger with one eye open, and a [double whammy] with both eyes open.
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39
What is left of me is your memories. What is left with me is your memories.
0
Apr 2, 2022
Apr 2, 2022 at 1:43 AM UTC
eshwara-prasad
A Double Whammy!
What is left of me is your memories. What is left with me is your memories.
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2