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"wyd" poems
Oh, my Medusa That piercing, seductive stare Gets me so rock hard. "braullw nevae falls" That's 'braille never fails', Spelled by a blind man. Matsuo Basho Turns in his grave: first, five times then seven, then five. The dankest of **** Floats slowly into my lungs Oh wait...Asbestos. hahaha ye boiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii yeyeyeyeye ye boiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii hehe wyd
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Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 10:30 AM UTC
A Collection of Dumb Haikus, Thanks
i see things in high definition colour, but july is the only month that fluctuates— between florida orange and, later, burnt sienna; everything between the 1st to the 31st is dipped in a honey-glaze of three things: 1. warm, sticky air 2. the feeling of 6pm 3. bicycles riding through fields of fireflies. naturally, i spend most of july in my bedroom— the heat gets to me, makes my allergies flare and i watch movies; old, 80s, movies (or—tiktok clips of the same movie, only broken up into thirty-six parts that i view from my bed with my naked legs spinning vertical circles through the air). i always forget the feeling of august until it’s there again. july overshadows it with the final embers, so i only realise it's august on maybe the 5th or 6th. almost a full week into a month that my brain— which is never wrong about the way things feel— sees a deep, ocean blue. i don't write home about august. i don't hurry it up through winter months, when i begin the countdown to hot, hazy days. if anything, i view august as the ending of something, of a summer i wished so hard for. and every time, it blindsides me with love. i love things more in august. i love the smell of summer- rain on the pavement. i love songs i listened to in january. i love waiting around for halloween. i love my bedroom, the pause of heat-sick sleep, the blue-sky mornings. i write love letters to autumn in a time capsule. i text july and ask u up?, and wyd?, and come over? and still, when summer ends, i will never want to get what i wish for.
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Aug 15, 2022
Aug 15, 2022 at 6:34 PM UTC
ocean-blue autumn
i see things in high definition colour, but july is the only month that fluctuates— between florida orange and, later, burnt sienna; everything between the 1st to the 31st is dipped in a honey-glaze of three things: 1. warm, sticky air 2. the feeling of 6pm 3. bicycles riding through fields of fireflies. naturally, i spend most of july in my bedroom— the heat gets to me, makes my allergies flare and i watch movies; old, 80s, movies (or—tiktok clips of the same movie, only broken up into thirty-six parts that i view from my bed with my naked legs spinning vertical circles through the air). i always forget the feeling of august until it’s there again. july overshadows it with the final embers, so i only realise it's august on maybe the 5th or 6th. almost a full week into a month that my brain— which is never wrong about the way things feel— sees a deep, ocean blue. i don't write home about august. i don't hurry it up through winter months, when i begin the countdown to hot, hazy days. if anything, i view august as the ending of something, of a summer i wished so hard for. and every time, it blindsides me with love. i love things more in august. i love the smell of summer- rain on the pavement. i love songs i listened to in january. i love waiting around for halloween. i love my bedroom, the pause of heat-sick sleep, the blue-sky mornings. i write love letters to autumn in a time capsule. i text july and ask u up?, and wyd?, and come over? and still, when summer ends, i will never want to get what i wish for.
Continue reading...
31
Just beginning. Wyd are still young. Still being educated. Only 40 years ago homosexuality was still considered a mental disorder. Now equal rights are still non existent. Sure since then things have gotten better. But we still are not equal! People still laugh when they see two men walking down the street holding hands. People still thing lesbians are just there for there own nasty pleasure. Kiss your girlfriend it's hot. You don't say that to straight couples. You don't stop and yell out the window when you see them. You don't tell them to kiss for your own pleasure. You don't go shoot their clubs. The world is not equal. We are no where near equal. We are still lower than heterosexuals. We are still thought of as sinners by churches. We are frowned upon. Youth are thrown out by there parents. We still live in fear. No rights til we are equal **** right I SUPORT it!
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Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
The world is young
Frequent & repeated lines of questioning, not limited to frequent and repeated running, O, your honor, how wyd one do in the dog days should so futile an expense be paid. Often, though not often enough (and entirely too often,) it seems to be repeated to be repeated the sayings of the elderly, but I say, among others, RUN! collapse into the whole of everything else. Run not in the ablative sense, but inwardly. The Dog Days are days in the truest meaning, Don't Hold Me To That!!! for this will pass, as will those and that. That rustling will never cease and should it, I fear the worst. From this cries a home A HOME! for want of all. Take this, Take me, whole, unbroken, beyond dog days and frequent and repeated sayings & questions. Take me home.
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May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 8:12 PM UTC
Dog Star
Everyone is gonna be happy / be happy you're gonna make me so happy / so happy My sins didn't hold By sin I'm no more sold you're poring into me you're forgiving as can be the line was formed with red By your son who rose from the dead you've taken sin away i'm fine, so fine this day your hands have warmed my soul unlike the sin that was a part the hole you fill so comfortably but now i'm pouring out my heart i will make room i'll empty out i'll tell my sins to you about i'll change my everything for you just keep on doing what you do
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Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 5:34 AM UTC
The Queenstons: WYD Christ remastered
# me: hey you: hey me: wyd? you: nothing. hbu? me: same. seen 23:49 #
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Jul 26, 2020
Jul 26, 2020 at 11:33 PM UTC
the art of not talking
The many ways he is legal.,Legit and lit.. With 3 A.M to finish it! He ever so slightly gives.. Her a passions mind hickey. F.ck..up.. savory Like shivering kisses mind hiccups. unspoken...................................attention given. Make's her shiver he's a mental ******** giver.. Make's her mind moist and inquisitive. At the sign of any confusion. It's his  penetrative foreplay. Its the lyrics used to seductively play. Tools He uses..their selective differences. Just before 3 a.m. She floats adrift softly melting H.i.m. Talking  everything  comprehensively through.   Rocks her mindful  emotions. Mind F**kin sweet potions. non-trivial notions. Following every word she's relaying. All before the 3 a.m. relating. By day he's catering appetizers of verbal compliments. Sharing of the days events. when they are away from one another. They are texting each other. By evening......... his texting feels like gentle                                                                     whispering! Making His next text something she's craving. Neva leaving her guessing what He is doing. Neva askin her wyd?                                              Mental interactions are tender touchings.                               Mind F**kin..   A tender kind of existing.                                                            As they both be falling. By the time its 3 a.m. Oceans colliding.. erupting.. exploding. mental explosion. 3 a.m. dammn she's already had many ******* heightened chills. Body follows every moment. No hesitations so receptive. They are such Intellectual souls.. The body is prepped it always follows. 3 a.m Anything Goes. By 7 a.m exhaustion so good sets in. Physical resting  so sweet.. yet mentally he's ready with a grin. Just to start a new day all over with her again. by selinasharday 4-2018...H.I.M (he is mine)
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Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 9:28 PM UTC
3 A.M Mental Passion!
The many ways he is legal.,Legit and lit.. With 3 A.M to finish it! He ever so slightly gives.. Her a passions mind hickey. F.ck..up.. savory Like shivering kisses mind hiccups. unspoken...................................attention given. Make's her shiver he's a mental ******** giver.. Make's her mind moist and inquisitive. At the sign of any confusion. It's his  penetrative foreplay. Its the lyrics used to seductively play. Tools He uses..their selective differences. Just before 3 a.m. She floats adrift softly melting H.i.m. Talking  everything  comprehensively through.   Rocks her mindful  emotions. Mind F**kin sweet potions. non-trivial notions. Following every word she's relaying. All before the 3 a.m. relating. By day he's catering appetizers of verbal compliments. Sharing of the days events. when they are away from one another. They are texting each other. By evening......... his texting feels like gentle                                                                     whispering! Making His next text something she's craving. Neva leaving her guessing what He is doing. Neva askin her wyd?                                              Mental interactions are tender touchings.                               Mind F**kin..   A tender kind of existing.                                                            As they both be falling. By the time its 3 a.m. Oceans colliding.. erupting.. exploding. mental explosion. 3 a.m. dammn she's already had many ******* heightened chills. Body follows every moment. No hesitations so receptive. They are such Intellectual souls.. The body is prepped it always follows. 3 a.m Anything Goes. By 7 a.m exhaustion so good sets in. Physical resting  so sweet.. yet mentally he's ready with a grin. Just to start a new day all over with her again. by selinasharday 4-2018...H.I.M (he is mine)
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45
I'm just an outside the box kinda person so.. What's my texting character/personality.. is it like Type F.. Hi, good morning.  hi, hello, well good evening, wyd, goodnight. *(Super Predictable.) BORING ME Type of wmtt..aka wasting my time thing.. Repetitious. Or is it a type D: hey, hi **** hey bae, hi handsome/beautiful Gifs on kidding **** cold text, no warmup, no get to know you richer. No full sentences. One word replies mostly, No time no efforts. Boring kinda u **** chat history. Or a C type. for attempts at times to be creative, feisty, interesting, warm, a lil chatty sharing new things sometimes. Or B type text buddy for the ability to show real interest, by just calling you up and have get to open up fun convo. And send cute make my day words and positive things. Finally, a A-type of text friend. No time for idle boring chit chat usually when one can they have a true vibe of saying interesting lil comments that gets you to think, reflect, open up, share, feel motivated, makes yah smile, blush, feel liked, cared about, special, want to know more, want to share more, and look forward to touching basics. A fun caring worth keepin not deleting chat history log. The 3 E's Of Effort, Energy, Evolving By Selina Sharday Thoughts of Give credit to author when sharing Sharday3 RosePoet#H.E.R_POETRY S.A.M
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Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 10:33 AM UTC
YO TEXTING STYLES
I don't know what to do I am stuck in this gap its hard to move forward or backwards im trying to choose between him and him him one pros nice, funny, calls me cute, noticed me cons distant, innocent, awkward him two pros cute, nice, funny, and some notices me cons seems ***** all the time, clingy, its always wyd they both notice me and i don't know why, i'm not cute i'm not funny i don't attract any similes i attract stares
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Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 2:47 PM UTC
gap
I don’t love you. I honestly never really cared. I couldn’t care less. That is until 10:16 When my body aches And I hit you with the wyd Because you’re what I want to taste Don’t expect me to embrace you in your vulnerability But I expect you to embark in your most vulnerable experience with me Why? Because we’re humans, baby Because it’s natural, lover Because your body looked so good in that dress Because of the shape your hips and your thighs Oh I love when you ride I love when you taste me Can you feel me inside I’m giving it all to you Promise me it’s mine Because this belongs to you Wait but not completely I can only promise you the D Because I need no emotional ties between you and me I’m in a situation I have someone else for that Someone who’s still waiting for me to text her back Someone you don’t know of and you’ll hopefully never meet And after this I probably won’t call until 10:16 next week.
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Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 9:49 PM UTC
Seeing Through His Eyes
They come They leave They seek reprieve We need a sound and a light To keep us conscious Of whatever I am conscious of something There is a barrier Young girl in black jeans Glasses Apron And a fry cook Battering Nova Scotia Halibut on live television I send a message to Adonai Wyd? He asks me if I will agree To his new terms of service Which makes me uneasy He tells me Carl Jung Wears his glasses in the void He looks prophetic and exalted With some black folks Sitting at a corner table While being interviewed That’s amazing She says So cool She says That’s amazing And if our eyes meet For too long We might know some Secret truth Which we make No effort To conceal Are we already In perfection?
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Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 1:20 PM UTC
Texting the Lord
Jhynda you gotta to be kidding me! How dare you! become silent just suddenly. We were chatting 2 fast 2 furious. Now I’m idling at a red traffic light just furious. Sitting in this car waiting for that green light to Go! I’m not sitting in a car but I’m letting you metaphorically know. As you sleep we stopped our speech. Oddly you asked me “Wyd?” And we just started to speak. Time is still moving and I’m still up. The wind outside is blowing strong and I’m thinking “What the F***!”. Listening to music now as I text you this message. Expressing myself it’s about to get interesting. Maybe I should stop this poem note. I don’t want to go no further my friend. Since your sleeping maybe this could be the end... Although as I’m awake this new day of mines just began. I have a long way before my day ends. You have a short time as you sleep before your day begins. Laying in your bed cuddle up with your bear. And Brownie on the floor or on your bed laying near. I shouldn’t be thinking this thoughts as I text you this. As if I’m standing right there at the end of your bed just looking. Waiting for you to wake so we can continue the topic we left off. Before you became silent at 8:26pm as I viewed. For you it’s 8:16pm your last text to me. I understand I guess...continue to get your beauty rest. BYE! From: Aaron L. Osgood To: You b.k.a. Jhynda Perpignan
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Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 10:33 AM UTC
So Suddenly
Sing to me, tell me all the things in my ear I’d want to hear, be my personal Shakespeare I want it but I won't ask for it I want you to tell me I’m pretty, and in return I get beautiful Show me you want me, but not always physically And although well get there in a minute But show me you need me Need someone to listen Be there for you when you cry and baby please don't you be shy Because I’ll give you that high that tender lovin no one can deny Touch me, make love to my body and soul Allow me to explore the journey and become on as a whole Conversate with me and more than just “wyd” Pull all nighters till the sun rises up at 7:30 No need for orange juice sipping my tea You give me all the vitamin C that rush from fresh brewed coffee Open up to me, be a book a novel allowing me to flick through you’re page And maybe we can work on starting a life together and become old aged Love me, I want you to love my love I give to you with no hesitation Have constant flirtation for the rest of our lives without any complication And I want you to Be my medicine, the pill I take and digest that takes all my pain away Making me forget the hurt that's been done and replace it with pure and utterly true love And be mine’s, be my person that’s all I ask
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Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 5:44 PM UTC
Be Mine
If it don't fit..don't force it! (Sweeping away bread crumbs) Letting go of the bread crumbs messages.......... they text..wyd.. you: not much what you up to? them: text no reply Yours: hey you there? Them text:_______? Your text: well bye take care! Text days later: HRU. Your text; Fine n you. their text: good later blank space incomplete convo's. they Gone! (have friends who fit these shoes)... they given bread crumbs..well dust away those lil dry bread crumb sprinkles. Been getting the little bread crumbs.. here ya go have sum.. (they thinkin) don't say I never gave yah none. If you've been tryna keep up relationship on the run.. a lil friendship keepin in contact fun.. Going! Their introductions made ya think I'd like to get to know you some. Yet. The whole hit and miss No real time for this. kinda fit. Becomes the whole sum of it. Busy, tired , not a good time, talk to yah later. Alligator. (your patience will be fried) (Hope will have died) Sweep away their lil bread crumbs. yah don't need none. No talkin ta yah even later. (You really should)...Be done! s.a.m by selinsasharday 3-18
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Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
If it don't fit..don't force it!