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"zips" poems
Earlier today, painting was the activity that we had planned I have a support teacher who would always lend a hand She had left the class to get the paint all mixed While I stayed behind to get the toys and props all fixed She came back and bore bowls of red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. Lunchtime I visited a store and neatly displayed on low shelves Arranged so immaculately as if magically done by elves Were cases upon cases stitched together with only zips They almost instantly bent a smile to my lips Their colours shone brilliant red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. Passed by a shop selling accessories and apparel Merchandise dangled on wall hooks and some in a jumble On the adjacent wall something caught my eye Carried all the neat little tote bags one could ever buy One peeking from a corner was red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. Walked by a building, so modern-looking and new Down on one side almost obscured from view Were these horizontal rows of dancing neon lights Stopped for a minute just to soak in the sights Then I realised that they flickered red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. Waited for the bus to get home at my usual bus stop Whilst waiting, I shifted and from my bag something did drop Bent over and picked my coin pouch that had fallen out Looked up only to see another commuter lingering about On his pack was a sticker which boasted red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. Bus was packed, found a seat in the back row Sat myself down, I peered briefly out the window Engine under me, I scanned around to those who were seated Observed the floor beneath my shoes as it vibrated My pair of Adidas, oh my, they're red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. Got home, put my bag down and sank into the sofa Switched on the telly, on was the Food Network's "Barefoot Contessa" Surfed through the channels, caught a real estate commercial Promoting prime land in a country not anywhere regional Splashed on the screen, a flag - red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. End of the day, it is best that I hit the sack Allow some rest for my poor aggravated back But not till I complete the words you're currently reading I'm thinking, dreaming and furiously typing How do I end this? Hmm...red, white and blue? I'm thinking and dreaming...and wishing I'm with you.
0
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
Red, White & Blue
Earlier today, painting was the activity that we had planned I have a support teacher who would always lend a hand She had left the class to get the paint all mixed While I stayed behind to get the toys and props all fixed She came back and bore bowls of red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. Lunchtime I visited a store and neatly displayed on low shelves Arranged so immaculately as if magically done by elves Were cases upon cases stitched together with only zips They almost instantly bent a smile to my lips Their colours shone brilliant red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. Passed by a shop selling accessories and apparel Merchandise dangled on wall hooks and some in a jumble On the adjacent wall something caught my eye Carried all the neat little tote bags one could ever buy One peeking from a corner was red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. Walked by a building, so modern-looking and new Down on one side almost obscured from view Were these horizontal rows of dancing neon lights Stopped for a minute just to soak in the sights Then I realised that they flickered red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. Waited for the bus to get home at my usual bus stop Whilst waiting, I shifted and from my bag something did drop Bent over and picked my coin pouch that had fallen out Looked up only to see another commuter lingering about On his pack was a sticker which boasted red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. Bus was packed, found a seat in the back row Sat myself down, I peered briefly out the window Engine under me, I scanned around to those who were seated Observed the floor beneath my shoes as it vibrated My pair of Adidas, oh my, they're red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. Got home, put my bag down and sank into the sofa Switched on the telly, on was the Food Network's "Barefoot Contessa" Surfed through the channels, caught a real estate commercial Promoting prime land in a country not anywhere regional Splashed on the screen, a flag - red, white and blue Made me think of...well, made me think of you. End of the day, it is best that I hit the sack Allow some rest for my poor aggravated back But not till I complete the words you're currently reading I'm thinking, dreaming and furiously typing How do I end this? Hmm...red, white and blue? I'm thinking and dreaming...and wishing I'm with you.
Continue reading...
48
Amazing it was what Grandad would do with a drop of oil or a bit of glue Stopped watches, sticking locks Faulty switches, zips on breeches Kettles that wouldn't sing Bells that wouldn't ring He'd say let me have a look  my dear Touch the pencil behind his ear Adjust his specs, stick out his tongue And in a jiff it was mended and done But now he's not here to save us from sin Anything broken goes straight in the bin
0
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 10:52 AM UTC
Grandad
Bright flashes of red Give away the Cardinals. Chick-a-dee-dee-dee from the capped visitors. Warning! Warning! Shriek the Blue Jays! Loud as a siren our tiny wrens. Crowned with a point the titmouse displays. Dressed to the nines the juncos present before a storm. Sparrows flock about White crowned ones too. Nuthatches scampering like the squirrels around the limbs. Brown creeper so shy round and round the trunk. Mockingbird flashing white on the wing singing multitudes of songs. Crows hold caucuses along side the road. Whirring wings buzz Hummingbird zips on by. Feathered friends on the wing Speak to nature's diversity.
0
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 7:52 AM UTC
Of a feather
How relative is time That when I have an address Of where to send my thoughts I may march through the days With my coveted "tasks" of penship Fulfilled Yet when I lack this focal point And fumble into doorless walls Each dizzy cell zips about With not a patient comfort, all Panicked
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Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC
Homesick
The red of cigarette ashes contrasts the white upon the snow. The expanse is unbroken as his gaze wanders lonely plains. He takes one puff; then another; then another one so he can forget her face, and remember how it feels to live again. His parka is unzipped as he breathes in air so cold, and cigarette cherries reach his palm and burn away cold contemplations. He smiles at the Arctic gods' cool ministrations; their fervent consolations for the love he is smoking and forgetting in the snow. He zips up his jacket, tosses ashes far below. He turns away, his footsteps marking the white waste. They are the only remnant of his remembering ablation, and soon, they too, are absorbed by the plateau.
0
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 10:28 PM UTC
Arctic Smoke
*Dragonfly zips across thine eye flowerbeds fields of somber song*
0
Jul 2, 2010
Jul 2, 2010 at 7:08 AM UTC
Daydream (Haiku)
You tell her you love her she says "I know I can see it in your eyes" you look into hers and beneath the aqua blue you can see she loves you too. But she won't say it. She just turns her head and bites her lip. She's not supposed to say it. Willpower is something I strip off nonchalantly baring my naked soul she zips hers up and holds it tight, she's not ready to be free You share a visible yet impassable love a beautiful gift kept tied in a bow, never for the world to open Two stars floating in the universe meant to collide yet always passing each other by Chemically balanced, but time is never on your side The sparks fly spitting out flames but never catching fire All that remains is a shorted circuit because she never could be free.
0
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
Meant To (Not) Be
As fridge-rator to beer in the head between the ears adorned with flashy widgets with which to trap the hoes he hopes that he can pull into his poles. His gravity whips wide so hands find and feel up erthing that gots the tail, he wants to rail so hands out he walks and tilts to one side and back holding his glass. Two fingers limp around the rim, dipping his fingertips into the juice like he wants to dip into you, pinkies as he holds your head forcing you to **** like you want his come as much as he wants to come. Then when done zips up, runs out, ***** sayonara", switch rerun mode without emotion. He floatin. He floatin. He gloatin. Head on the couch back making tired, one eye open scoping everyone's glow as they move, when up he comes sittin in my face, spittin what he thinks I want him to say, I'm like, **** guy control that tongue, you spray like that always I'm afraid I won't take that wild **** as tool is to you as to yo ***** Right ******* ****** spittin harder in the lean up perhaps the lead up to fist flung to react. "Man you too loose, I gotta tell you, I've got just what you do." "Your uh ****** Man watch ya flavor of language, I got just enough ****** left to get hard and stomp you, heel first in boots bought to stomp, pre-emptive to deal with the bullwhip effect where first you droolin to **** me, then retract like a bowstring because my ***** resembles a **** "What you want, ***** You wan **** this **** for real?" (For real?) He floatin. He floatin. He floatin the room, he ghosting. Lick my lips, cept it's not a tongue. For this purpose it's strobe lights, in light show, and like snow, black and white between sheets of plastic TV screen on get settled into my flow, rip back and forth like prongs on a fork on your ******* blindfolded and scolded right angle, bent like an L-shape repenting for **** by taking the ****** flash cards, held up on headboards, trying to teach you metrics and standards lacking in you to tune you into the lifestream, no empathy and no tact to show, remember this hell well while you sail through life preying, I'm praying and making marks in meat coats. But he floatin. He floatin. He gloatin.
0
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
ClamJam: "Party is to Pussy"(aka "Track 3")
As fridge-rator to beer in the head between the ears adorned with flashy widgets with which to trap the hoes he hopes that he can pull into his poles. His gravity whips wide so hands find and feel up erthing that gots the tail, he wants to rail so hands out he walks and tilts to one side and back holding his glass. Two fingers limp around the rim, dipping his fingertips into the juice like he wants to dip into you, pinkies as he holds your head forcing you to **** like you want his come as much as he wants to come. Then when done zips up, runs out, ***** sayonara", switch rerun mode without emotion. He floatin. He floatin. He gloatin. Head on the couch back making tired, one eye open scoping everyone's glow as they move, when up he comes sittin in my face, spittin what he thinks I want him to say, I'm like, **** guy control that tongue, you spray like that always I'm afraid I won't take that wild **** as tool is to you as to yo ***** Right ******* ****** spittin harder in the lean up perhaps the lead up to fist flung to react. "Man you too loose, I gotta tell you, I've got just what you do." "Your uh ****** Man watch ya flavor of language, I got just enough ****** left to get hard and stomp you, heel first in boots bought to stomp, pre-emptive to deal with the bullwhip effect where first you droolin to **** me, then retract like a bowstring because my ***** resembles a **** "What you want, ***** You wan **** this **** for real?" (For real?) He floatin. He floatin. He floatin the room, he ghosting. Lick my lips, cept it's not a tongue. For this purpose it's strobe lights, in light show, and like snow, black and white between sheets of plastic TV screen on get settled into my flow, rip back and forth like prongs on a fork on your ******* blindfolded and scolded right angle, bent like an L-shape repenting for **** by taking the ****** flash cards, held up on headboards, trying to teach you metrics and standards lacking in you to tune you into the lifestream, no empathy and no tact to show, remember this hell well while you sail through life preying, I'm praying and making marks in meat coats. But he floatin. He floatin. He gloatin.
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3
Blade so cold so right Taking a joyride across my body Silver on white Shaking hand to guide it Tears, zips, leather and lace Crimson escaping fresh slit Lips, soft, supple, prickly Unshaven you nuzzle and drink My blood so desirable and sickly Stop stop blood clot Immune system allows you only some You draw away you've had a lot Violins in my ears The room spins and I fall down No sight takes away fears I awake, white room, methylated spirits Doctors tend to my open scars The feeling is so right
0
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 11:07 PM UTC
Blood Lust
They are starting to grow and I am so, so proud of them. With every little achievement they succeed, they are blooming But a selfish part of me silently cries Because I am becoming less and less needed in their eyes. They no longer need me to push them on the swings, Or warn them not to pick up ***** and stinky things. They can wash themselves and brush their own hair And decide for themselves what clothing they ought to ware. They have mastered Velcro and zips, buttons and laces, But sometimes they need reminding to wipe their scrubby little faces. They can open the fridge and help themselves to a snack And are sneaky enough to swipe extra cookies behind my back. They are growing quickly and will definitely be Taller and stronger and smarter than me. I pray for their happiness, their health and their safety. No matter what happens they'll always be my babies. I do and will always love them, come what may. And I hope they will know I do each and every day.
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Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
It can be a little sad to see them grow
She walks in the rain, annoyed As the hair she combed so perfectly Dances freely with the wind, A tangled mess; wild and unruly She zips her jacket till her chin As she continues on her path It's another feeble attempt to Shield herself from the clouds wrath She walks, sidestepping puddles Her brand new boots caked with muck She reaches the bus stop, cursing The dreary weather in which she's stuck She waits for the bus, impatient As raindrops fall upon her face Oh, how she hates the icy breeze That knocks her hood out of its place! She waits; half drenched, half frozen As thunder roars from the skies As though haughtily boasting about All the umbrellas that it's destroyed Finally, the bus arrives; Her saviour, her salvation!!! Now she braces herself for The long long ride to her destination.
0
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 6:49 AM UTC
A Walk in The Rain
He rolls out of bed He drops out of his rack He puts on his armour He zips on his flight suit He buckles his spurs He laces his boots He grabs his longsword He grabs his helmet And walks out to the stable And walks up to the flight deck To his steed To his plane He saddles the beast He pre-flights the beast Mounts Gets in Rears up Kicks in full burners And gallops forward And takes a cat shot Lowering his lance Arming his missles and guns He looks for dragons to slay He looks for dragons to slay
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Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:16 AM UTC
Slaying Dragons
First light, and a chill mist. Low bird calls. Small and quiet, the eldest child zips her way out of the tent. Gathering wildflowers, she sips a bit of mountain water. Reaching up, she   offers her flowers into the crook of a plain tree, bowing down.
0
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
Reverence
now i dwell in Grand Belong and think in song i think in song mystic thread zips up my head electrified where gloom has fled i’m heart-to-heart and black is fair i jete up to champagne air the dreaded weight of days does not dim this limpid face swing the moon! skim the stars! shadows shiver as I pass; delirious with God, grand dance!
0
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 9:40 AM UTC
communion
I swear Sometimes I am Just drawing Or wasting Away And I breathe In and a cool Quiet air enters My lungs It smells like You and tastes The way summer Nights feel After rain I am breathing You in daily With tea in the morning And heartache In the afternoon Incense like Lighting my senses To the smell of The love you gave In darkness When we are Fumbling Through the Clumsy first Kiss where Our lips meet (And my heart Is swimming In fire- Mentioning it) The act Of solemn Silent Serenity That zips And zooms And soars up To space It doesn't end And we are Dancing Back and forth Giving and taking And giving again Lovely limbo Of the stars In your car Summer breeze Kisses your Cheek and So do I. I am not thinking Only being Feeling Laughing Playing Loving Living And all of the Other -ing's At once Because I can Be everything I am when you Are with me- All at once or Sleeping in silence Your heart beat Keeping time With the stereo Post-rain dreams Moonlit night.
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Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
Untitled
Your voice is something that has me in a trance. I'm the snake in the basket .....now watch me dance. It's been said that music calms the savage beast....well the sound of your voice provides me with a inner peace. The day has been hectic .....people with mean faces and gripes. This is supposed to be The City of Brotherly Love.....but some are not so polite. It seems everyone becomes a little bit nicer .....once day turns to night. The alcohol starts flowing and the girls are looking right. The guys are in a huddle like a pack of wolves....admiring a female who is modeling her curves in a selection that's tight. The music is blaring from the speakers and girls are dancing with each other. A brother attempts to dance with one and leaves the floor with her crew ......she said "We are not dancing anymore....we we were just having fun." It's a long walk back to the bar....it feels like slow motion. You replay the interaction several times like a referee under the hood... but this call won't be reversed.....a few more drinks and your heart is coasting......now you are a tad bit enibriated from too much toasting. Inappropriate comments on Twitter and Facebook......but you continue posting. When I end the night ....I come home to you. You make my day worth living. Before I go to sleep can you sing to me? The day was tough...my friend embarrassed themselves....it was so bad I really wanted to yell. I just took sometime and remembered your voice .....the words turned into musical notes as they left your lips. I'm no longer present.....my mind is taking trips....I don't reside in one.....I have many different zips. So before you ever decide to quit....Can you please .....sing for me? The beast that resides inside....told me to ask you.
0
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
Sing for me.....
Your voice is something that has me in a trance. I'm the snake in the basket .....now watch me dance. It's been said that music calms the savage beast....well the sound of your voice provides me with a inner peace. The day has been hectic .....people with mean faces and gripes. This is supposed to be The City of Brotherly Love.....but some are not so polite. It seems everyone becomes a little bit nicer .....once day turns to night. The alcohol starts flowing and the girls are looking right. The guys are in a huddle like a pack of wolves....admiring a female who is modeling her curves in a selection that's tight. The music is blaring from the speakers and girls are dancing with each other. A brother attempts to dance with one and leaves the floor with her crew ......she said "We are not dancing anymore....we we were just having fun." It's a long walk back to the bar....it feels like slow motion. You replay the interaction several times like a referee under the hood... but this call won't be reversed.....a few more drinks and your heart is coasting......now you are a tad bit enibriated from too much toasting. Inappropriate comments on Twitter and Facebook......but you continue posting. When I end the night ....I come home to you. You make my day worth living. Before I go to sleep can you sing to me? The day was tough...my friend embarrassed themselves....it was so bad I really wanted to yell. I just took sometime and remembered your voice .....the words turned into musical notes as they left your lips. I'm no longer present.....my mind is taking trips....I don't reside in one.....I have many different zips. So before you ever decide to quit....Can you please .....sing for me? The beast that resides inside....told me to ask you.
Continue reading...
15
I’m good at reading lips the ones that hide behind zips in the middle of the hips Their taste has made me lick mine the moans they cause sound divine their absence makes me pine
0
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 9:34 PM UTC
Lips
sidelong wakesleep her face halved in periwinkle sheets one sun stripe zips down the room partioning the dark toes yawn under the sheets inadvertently scratching me her breath so much more (or less) than i could ever poet
0
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 4:55 PM UTC
this is jus a poem
It’s the hour before traffic, around that time when the paperboys sniff, all of them rubbing their noses on sleeves. The smog is fowl, a stray dog howls orange explosions of bitter pain through which the sun battles to make a comeback. Amber lights flash right of way for whoever’s driving home from the pub, whoever’s daft enough to face the day that way. The last ********** packs her bag, stubs out her *** and zips her **** shut, ‘A fat cow like me can only wait for so long.’ Soon the sky is Usual Blue, discoloured by security swipes, fake handshakes, and Columbia’s finest coffee-stained coffee shop waiters who sell the finest sugar cube coke to those hardworking folk who keep our nation ticking, and tocking – the digital clock, my rooster with the fraudulent eyes, tells me it’s time to let the snooze button go.
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Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 3:13 AM UTC
Snooze Dreams
Shopping :o) one bag of flour the self raising kind a pound of bacon without the rind a loaf of bread a jar of jam remember the pickle to go with the ham dog food and cat food cheese and coffee don't forget raisins and nuts for the toffee tomatoes, sundried get those if you're able, if you're not sure it will say on the label toilet rolls, eggs shampoo and stir fry get rolls without seeds heaven knows why salad and butter hot dogs and sauce get reduced fat, low sugar and lo salt, of course chocolate and sweetcorn chicken and stuffing a chocolate chip, walnut and blueberry muffin pizza with pineapple ham and some cheese fairy and cookies ariel fabreeze turkey, satsumas not oranges with pips tin foil and razors and food bags with zips nutella is best it's the one we like most so get a big jar to spread on our toast boys, thank you for helping It's a great deal to me oh, and don't forget cake and biscuits and tea i'll leave it to you if there are things that i've missed Just get what you think if it's not on the list.
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Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 3:50 AM UTC
Shopping (re-post)
Terminally upset, terminally emotional. Plagued with multiple personalities, Plagued with a desire to maintain my last clutches of scarce sanity. Brushes with a simple reclusive state, Slowly but surely morph into brushes with a razorblade. Trying to escape myself, Trying to find a safe haven. Breaking out of my façade, Breaking out of the asylum. Screaming loud, with everything left in me, Screaming loud, but I know No one can hear me. Crying out for her, Crying out for help. Falling out of my sorrows, Falling out of tomorrow. The world growing increasingly violent, The world growing eerily silent. Seeing the cruelness in my last breaths, Seeing the shards of pain in the shattered mirror. Suddenly, a pale hand zips the body bag that holds me, Suddenly, my vision fades to white. Gently, the music of mourning begins to play, Gently, my coffin in lowered into the ground.
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Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
The Vision of Macabre
The edge of my soul is unsilenced by the youthful glove of lust Curtained wonders and curtailed tales our songs recited and memorised on saddles Sandals of certainty , candled yester years My soles dared to tear a form eyes roar in beats of a sinful stare affixed sensations, the aesthetic nightmares the cyclic eventful roller coaster of want The padded faded jeans and cotton shirt A fluent code of the cold wonderland steers protons and affluent electrical neurons Exploding zips, complementary zest The **** ride on your stationed rod My stallion, a rash, an adrenaline rush, our flight (oh la la) At the sight of the afterglow stormy taste our echoes astound the mountain tops a wave of the heated dream in a cage The aged flow of the surfacing rivers As these words live in my mind Flickering lights inside the synagogue maze the cleavage fountain evaporating fumes A showcase of undeniable holes and poles A glorified truth tied in elastic hearts Eclipsed as a shadowy armoured reflection Hold my hand and fly the transient transcendence Balance as I fall behind on the heighted prolific lines Rehouse my day on these whispered thoughts Time circles, time travels, time lost, time found On this hour of attachment, catch me as I wave
0
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 5:06 PM UTC
Undeniable Holes and Poles
Zodiacal signs shift zones of time through zephyrs swirling in our breath - distance zips down to zero
0
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 6:26 PM UTC
Zephyrs