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cherubs chuckle
bellybuttons tingle
fearsome fangs sink into speedy intuitive youths
brainwaves command bodies
advertisements command brainwaves
they quickly capture the attentive child
melancholy *******
thinking deeply
and eating mcdonalds
12/11/08
John Stevens Jul 2010
The chirds are burping,
the blowers are flooming.
The droys are beaming
Of firls so gine.

The dees are boing
what dees bo best.
So loys bet's do
what dees bo best.

Hind the foney.
2010  This drove the chell specker crazy
The serpent dips his head beneath the sea
His mother, source of all his energy
Eternal, thence to draw the strength he needs
On earth to do indomitable dees
Once more; and they, who saw but understood
Naught of his nature of beatitude
Were awed: they murmured with abated breath;
Alas the Master; so he sinks in death.
But whoso knows the mystery of man
Sees life and death as curves of one same plan.
ioan pearce Feb 2010
****** up paddy's weekly binge,
did nothing for poor mary's twinge.
she quelled her urge with robbie rasta,
who smoked the ****,and **** was faster.

 the ***** guru jumped with fright,
yo husband early home tonight.
don't ye worry, stay in bed,
the fockers ****** right off his head.

 mary, mary, the drunkard bleats,
der is tree people beneath dees sheets,
shot op ye dronk i am no cheat,
get outa bed an count the feet,

 sorry me darlin, der's only four,
staggered to the bathroom door,
where ye goin? what ye thinkin?
to wash me feet, they're fockin stinkin.
Paula Swanson Jun 2011
Scraps of lumber, a touch of paint,
with love, became a home.
To the smallest of the birds,
that to our yard would roam.

In his basement workshop,
Grandpa would spend hours.
With his hand saw, brace and bit,
no use of electric power.

At each rip of the saw,
I'd hear that familiar sound.
I'd watch as sawdust drifted,
like pixie dust, to the ground.

With blackened nails and hammer,
he'd assemble the bird houses.
Then he'd paint them brightly,
adding curliques and flounces.

A bit of wire in a hook,
then hung in the Pear tree.
Filled our mornings with the song,
from the Finches and Chick-a-dees.
rebeccalouise Oct 2012
to me
Niagara is represented
by the seasons

it starts off
as a new year,
fresh snow on the ground,
endless possibilities

you step out of your house,
maybe on Devine Crescent in Thorold,
and that first breath
of crisp winter air
fills your lungs
and freezes you to the bone
and reminds you that you are alive

everything is always
so still
on January 1st

like a clean slate,
an empty canvas

and then movement begins to paint the beginning of a detailed picture

[migrating geese,
the rustle of a tree,
a car alarm going off,
the sun trying to peak through the grey clouds,
a friend shouting your name]

and the moment shatters
and the new year officially begins

maybe it starts off
with breakfast at Lester Dees
and quickly, but silently,
unfurls into a whirlwind
of school and work and birthdays and holidays and movies and dates and a trip to Niagara Falls and a stroll through Niagara-on-the-Lake and a hike through the Escarpment in Grimsby and joy and happiness and sadness and laughter and tears
and moments

spring blossoms
you feel drenched by the April rain
and weighted down from melodramatic February

but you also feel that sense
of hope
that tingling in your toes
that something good is coming

so enjoy a drink
on a patio in Port Dalhousie,
and crank the volume up
a little bit louder
before a concert at Mansion House,
and take in the scenery
as you run along the Welland Canal

because spring is here

as the days get longer
and the sun gets hotter
summer, lazy as a sloth, engulfs Niagara

Crystal Beach is in full swing
and summer becomes home
to barbecues, camping adventures, road trips, hiking at DeCew Falls, late night laughter, reminiscing around a campfire, the reuniting of old friends, dips in ice cold pools and water gun wars

and as slow and nonchalant
as it entered your life
summer slips away,
like the golden sunsets that it harbors

the leaves change to brilliant shades
of red, yellow and orange,
we wrap ourselves in scarves
and hats and mitts

the world quietly changes around us

fall gives us
warm nights by the fireside
and hands locked while walking along the Escarpment, the city stretched out below

while the squirrels scrounge for food,
we, too, scamper around,
wondering where the year has gone

some will exhale,
a sigh of relief
and some will allow
a large, satisfied grin to stretch across their face

and fall is just that,
a time to reflect
on all that has gone right
and all that has gone wrong

what resolutions did we keep,
and what did we let melt away,
with the humid summer heat

Niagara changes every year
but it is consistent in its ability
to mold new life, to stretch itself, to immerse itself in every season, to provide outlets to enjoy life, to be that friend that is always there to fall back on
and to provide those memories that bring a smile to your face
and leave a warm feeling in your heart
Niagara is home.
Maytin Paige Feb 2014
You speed around the car
waiting for their food by the door
and skid to a stop when you see me.
What are you doing?!?
I raise my voice.
Hey
I lean down into your open window.
What'd you get?
I ask as you hold the
McDonalds
bag in your lap.
Ten piece McNugget and large fry...
My passenger asks for a fry,
though she's going to order a large when we walk through the door of the
fatty restaurant.
You unroll the sack and hand her a small fry.
I reach in and pull a long fry from your order.
You smile as I pop it in my mouth and ask you what you and your passenger are up to.
Just getting food
you say,
keeping it vague.
I look at you with wide eyes
causing your smile to grow.
OH REALLY?
I raise my eyebrow for effect,
playing along.
You smirk.
I'll see ya later
I say, letting you get out of the way of cars angrily driving around us.
I reach in for another fry to pop in my mouth.
I lean in and press my lips to yours
feeling your teeth behind that delicious pink skin
as you press with lust and longing.
Ana Habib Jul 2018
I am still not over you
but I can clearly see that you have moved on
that's fine by me
But now that I've gotten a closer look at her
I can still tell your not over me
I know you still think of me
I know you still want me there
You ask her to curl her hair?
You make her trade her sneakers for stilettos?
You put her on diet of wheatgrass, almonds, and carrot juice?
You lovingly put on skin brightening cream on her?
You push her to dees to get her eye brows and nails done?
You teach her how to curtsy?
speak in 7 languages?
hold down her liquor like a lady?
Mingle with people old enough to be her daddy?
Well
She hates you
hates your guts
hates how you mention my name when your ready to come
how you wish she was me
to ****** you
ravish you
drown you in love
John Stevens Mar 2020
The chirds are burping,
the blowers are flooming.
The droys are beaming
Of firls so gine.

The dees are boing
what dees bo best.
So loys bet's do
what dees bo best.
Hind the foney.


(C)2010  This drove the chell specker crazy
Repost after 10 years.
ConnectHook Apr 2019
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying
.

                                              Alfred Lord Tennyson

Grieve the fallen warriors of diversity.

A trumpet’s mournful sound now casts its pall . . .

Southern rumors: prophets of perversity

Non-profiting from Liberal wherewithal:

Poverty’s pimps. Their bold hypocrisy

Weinsteins loudly, colliding with our news;

Southern Law: poor as our democracy

Purporting to promote progressive views.

His name rang sweet in all progressive ears

But now the cypresses sigh out their song;

For scams must be exposed—though it wring tears

We hear the dirge; night’s shadows looming long.

Weep, oh armchair zealots of the cause

For Morris Dees, a victim of his laws.
inspired by:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KoGvsC9-AFM

PROMPT #4: write your own sad poem,
but one that achieves sadness through simplicity.
Playing with the sonnet form may help you . . .
be straightforward, using plain, small words.
Endia Chardea Sep 2014
The Devil can't get a life
He can only take yours
                      


                      -Pastor Rev.  Dees
Ron Conway Dec 2019
Inside on a wintery day
Sky heavy as granite is grey
The window tells lies without shame
Grey Jay alights on the post cap
The Chick-a-dees vie in a scrap
Pretending their life is a game
A bitter and guileless fact
In nature a price will exact
Mortality seen through my pane
                               rc
Novo Otto
Ron Conway Dec 2019
Inside on a wintery day
Sky heavy as granite is grey
The window tells lies without shame
Whisky Jack 'lights on the post cap
The Chick-a-dees vie in a scrap
Pretending their life is a game
A bitter and guileless fact
In nature a price will exact
Mortality seen through my pane
                               rc
Nove Otto
A nine-lined poem with 8 syllables per line (isosyllabic).
The rhyme scheme is: aacbbcddc.
Iron eyes that chase the fire &&&

It's a fire from the supplier.;;;,;,

It's my body. My apparel

My attire.??????

Unaware I'm ensnared_

With eyes wider than

A night mare.


I'm running through the isles

Of night terror.


With a smile there.


My mind a white fang

The high like

Why and why there__

We do the night thing.::

Like a mind creep:::

With a pipe dream:::

And I'm on my heads sleep))))

Yeah right.

Need the high.

Less than I'm living 

In the deads reach.))))))

It's a trench shovel....


Living in the dead shuttle.....

Looking like my heads bleached)))))


Medication.

Still impatient

Wonder when  my sents. breached.)))

About the same time.

I'll be boxed into a dead heat))))

But talks like mister spock

Have got my ****** fingers

In a hot streak^^^^%%^

I'm vanna white

I touch more dees 

Than a hooked on Phoenix

Boxed theme.....
&&

I copied this from Gmail.
*** I wrote this in
A hot streak.*.........

Like I'm trying
To make my former
The abortion
Of a soft dream.
When I wake.
You'll think
I'm great. Or genius.
Trying to hide
A botched demon.......
From revealing
That I was caught sleeping.......
In a world where music takes
So long to make
It's considered.
To be a long descending
Staircase.
To a God feeling......
Not being obnoxious.
But I think
Nausea can be blotted
Out so ******* spot free.
Siiiiick
Doing tags on this one *** the last one was good
John Bartholomew Dec 2020
Its been a long night
The ones you fancied have left in fright
Anything'll do now
A fat one,
A badly dressed one,
A four kids at 22 one,
A Mackie Dees for breakfast one,
A ITV2 is my favourite channel one,
I just need reassurance and some fake love
Enough to just top me up
To keep me going from the break up I never saw coming
For this is now a kingdom with no rule,
So my love,

Get your coat (you've pulled).

JJB
Heal me. Seal me. In your light.
Reveal the real me.
Concealed in the concrete prison.
I must leave behind
This dream of mine
Of jesus kind.
That frees my mind
And leaves me blind
To feel the light with only shadows
Seen
Yet faith enough to believe your shine
Leave behind the need to find
A leach to feed off my genius mind
To teach it rhymes
And deal it signs to feel like
Braille
The genius type of reading blind
Seize the night
And breathe in jesus light
Of greases sandra dees
*** appeal and danny v
That's his name
Oh shitit may be actually
Tyson what's up big man
My fam
You sext handsome man
Can you handle this
I'm prepared to ignite
A fuse and blast you to a planet
Unknown by any telescope that's known by man.
Hope you make it back in tact after I disintegrate your manhood in a gravity defying act of tantric practice
Not yet mastered nor in practice
But built for NASA
On track for blast off right after
The aftermath.
Of nuclear disaster
Decimation of my sanity
Appearance
Mental focus and my outer parts might match
Than I'll scratch your back.
Look back and laugh
Oh **** my ***
I **** at that
But I got a lot of love to grab
Love you man

— The End —