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HumanCould I ever be,
Less than human?
Is it possible,
That I'm not a person?
What is it like,
To have a soul?
Will I ever,
Is there a way,
To be whole?
What will it take,
To gain a soul?
Do you yourself,
Understand the ability to love?
When will you cease,
Is my hurt not enough?
More Sublimination: To -------Do my real friends-
Talk behind my back?
Berate my flaws,
And virtues I lack?
Do my real friends-
Then be rude;
Treat me like sh-t?
Do my real friends-
Tell me "Shut up!"
And be mean?
Do my real friends-
To everything I say
And reject me entirely?
DO MY REAL FRIENDS-
Call me names
"Shut up!" or
Act passive -
And act fake?
Real friends don't
Treat me poorly.
Clasp my ears,
In the air.
In my empty,
From far away,
To reach me
And fill me up.
Drift me to you,
So we can
Burn out stars.
Let go and
Your Canvas HeartYour heart
Is white and pure
Like my canvas.
I want to ruin it.
For the passion
Of first love
And initial attraction
Thinking you're mine.
Of sweet times
Buried in snow.
For growing envy
As I leave, tossing
You in the sea.
For the waves
Pulling you down,
Making you stay.
Into a new person.
I've painted your canvas heart,
And ruined you.
You are the remains of a rainy day.
EscapismI'll just crash and burn
Faster than the Hindenburg
"Oh the humanity"
Sits on the tip of an iceberg.
Like the thing I most fear
Your breath whisp'ring on my ear
At the though of leaving me here
Quitting is my only option
Like a combustion reaction
On myself for asking
For a second chance
To go back to Wonderland
Where I can
The madness done by my hand
Synapses fried, left for dead
From the world I most dread.
USxUK Forget-Me-Nots pt. 3Matthew stood in the living room, holding his phone to his ear, listening to the humming of a dead line, the only noise or thought in his dead mind. He stood there, for who knows how long, not bothering to count the minutes.
Eventually after he collected his senses, he flipped it shut and threw himself into his couch. "Oh, why! Why must Arthur do something irrational and stupid like that! Uggh then he brought up the dresser incident I was looking "
He had never meant to say yes to Arthur's scheme, but then Arthur just had to bring that up!
"Dresser incident? What were you looking at? And who are you?"
Matthew jumped. He hadn't realised that his pet polar bear had entered the room, Klondike bar in hand. "AWWWAGH! I'm Mah-aah-theeew!" he whined. "And you shouldn't eavesdrop on people's conversations, Kumichi!"
"Kumajiro." It corrected in what could only be described as a deep squeal. "And it wasn't much of a conversation, seeing that you were talking to yourself."
Online Dating: The Older Man!For many years I have delayed, but now I’m tired of waiting,
For now I feel mature enough, to tackle online dating
I think I must be honest, and say it’s been a while,
Since last I had a lady friend, but here goes with my profile:
I'm mostly known as Horace, but I've never liked this name,
I've changed it now to Boris, though it does sound much the same!
I think I’m almost five foot tall - was six foot but I'm shrinking,
But never mind, for short is cute - at least that's what I'm thinking!
I like my hair to be au naturale, which means that I am bald,
Well, if I'm to be quite honest, it's just part of growing old,
I have the most amazing ears and ditto with my nose,
For age has blessed me with a gene for extremities that grow!
My lips are good but I must admit that I have rotten teeth,
and my chin has yet another chin that's growing underneath,
Good to have a spare part though, that's what I always say,
Though I'm not sure all the ladies would look at it this
Internetowe loweInternetowe Lowe
Zycie, tak jakoś czasem dziwnie się układa
i czujemy, że w serce jest wbita szpada.
Wtedy, no wiadomo szukamy uleczenia
Bo cóż, każda jest dobra droga do zbawienia.
Niestety często nie pomoże nam rodzina.
A druh jest głuchy na żale jak wykładzina.
Wtedy szukamy dalej i dalej medyka,
bo od ignorowania problem nie zanika.
I tutaj pojawiają się nam Internety,
które mogą budować nadzieje, niestety.
Często jest tak w tej internetowej sieci,
że tam znajdują zrozumienie smutne dzieci.
Samotność jest naszym płaszczem, dobrze okrywa.
Dotyk bliskich nam osób boli jak pokrzywa.
Szukamy dlatego w sieci pocieszenia,
tam z pewnością uciekną nasze zmartwienia.
I tak bajka się toczy, czasem się tak dzieje,
że poznając kogoś przez sieć mamy nadzieje,
nie widząc osoby twarzy, nie słysząc głosu,
... Merry Birthday, Jeff!!!*
Hello Gorgeous, pretty fella!
Would write you a complete novella
of young and charming Cinderella
draped with but a pink umbrella,
munching beef with Salmonella -
however - great. You are in luck:
my pen is simply grossly stuck!
Mean and tricksy midnight puck
with firm blessings stuffed 'n tucked
it in none too small a scale
well underneath the fluffy tail
~ of a well fed mongoose duck!
... Oh, ye gods!!!
What ever are we now to do?!!
Here's a quirky point of view:
let us fill her with fine brew;
for until she finds the loo -
our common goal we can't pursue!
So, in the Merry month of May,
- or July - whichever way -
run, have fun - enjoy your play
and dip thine whiskers in soufflé
of gifts and wishes: a neat soiree
(that we are) we cheer and say:
~ long live our Jeffy on this saintly Day!
Why Dogs are Better Than CatsA dog has a lot to do,
But you already to that,
and so this is a poem all about
why dogs are better than cats.
First, let's talk about night,
Since night gives most of us some fright;
Dogs will sleep all through the day (except when they have to play, of course)
But if an intruder knocks on the door,
A dog will roll up off the floor,
And bark, and bark, and bark.
And say the intruder didn't knock,
The dog will not exactly bark,
But will come up to the bad guy
wagging its tail,
Distracting the bad fellow with endless kisses.
Then Mom will know something is amiss,
Since someone in the house is getting kissed,
and everyone is safe in bed,
So a bad guy must be wanting fed;
So the Mom will come down and bring out the chicken,
Or at least that's what Fido thinks,
Then she'll feed Fido first, and then the bad guy,
Who wants to be fed
And everyone will be happy because Fido got chicken, and petted, and so forth.
Oviously there is no need for point two,
Because it should be very clear to you,
Never A Happy EndingOver a Beer a Psychologist once told me...that there are only a few that he never truely understood,
and the worst out of the whole lot,
was that Little Miss Red Riding Hood.
She told him lies and would often storm of in a huff,
from day one he knew...'this little girl was going to be tuff'.
She told him how...she would cut with a knife,
any Wolf...that would dare give her any strife.
This bitterness she carried with her...through out her whole life,
she never once found love...or was to become someones wife.
In old age... her good vision was lost,
and to this...any poor four legged creature, with its life...would unfortunately pay the cost.
Stuck growing old...as a little fairytale girl,
she ended up going insane...claiming everything had a Wolf like smell.
Then she got institutionalised...when she thought granny was a Wolf...and threw her down the Well.
With more beer...the Psychologist...more tales, he started to tell,
Then there was Prince Charming....who never really got over his
The Last Little PiggyDid you ever hear the full ending of the Three Little Pigs tale?
In the end...the last little piggy had to sue the builders
when the foundation of his brick house...did fail,
and on top of that...
He built a house without planning permission,
and could have faced a fine...or even gone to Jail.
To the council the little Pig made many trips,
each time the Big Bad Wolf... watching, whilst licking his big hairy lips.
'With brick'...the little pig was told...he could build his home in any town,
but in the country side...'your brick house...under regulations, it must be knocked down.'
'That is the rules of this land,
do you Little Piggy '...they asked...'understand? '
'But all my friends that have built with Straw,
are no longer here...they are no more,
built with Sticks... they have too been beaten,
now you want me to build like that... then surely I will be next to be eaten.
Told to take it down... that very day,
little piggy was sent on his way.
He knocked down his old house...leaving a p
Out To Sea!Oe’r the waves and rushing tides we sail!
Out to sea where uncharted land lies!
Out to sea where monsters wait!
Out to sea where dreams may live!
Out to sea where destiny lies!
Out to sea!
Out to sea!
Out to sea where pirates await!
Out to sea where action is life!
Where treasure awaits!
Out to sea!
Out to sea!
Out to sea where we find ourselves!
Out to sea where life is at it’s fullest!
Out to sea!
Out to sea!!!
cookiesi ate all the cookies
not a single life was spared
i ate all the cookies
not one even dared
sweet oatmeal cookies
your taste was like cold flame
sweet oatmeal cookies
i wish i knew your name
...Because I was bored.I'm tired
And I can't think of what to write!
I take a swig of Mtn Dew
And try to think.
My stupid siblings are making a racket.
I call from my computer
"Maw-aw-awwm!" they whine.
To face my wretched enemy-
My blank screen
And my even blanker mind.
I can hear the cosmos laughing.
Chides me and tells me to turn down
I turn up Adagio instead
And get an eyeroll.
Back to it!
To thinking what to write!
I cannot think at all!
The laughing gets louder.
Quickly I type
And post in on DeviantArt,
And I did it all...
...Because I was bored.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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