Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
spooky doopy Feb 2015
Anyway, Anaplasmata act aptly and abstractly
Backhands ******* balky baklava
Caractal chasm chant "Catty cavalry can't"
Dactyl dada dawns Djakarta drab

Larva ask dab-tap shabby knack lad
"Ever elect effete experts elsewhere?"
A clad daddy wants a dark jab dart
Fleece fleets flee flecked flyspecks

Cleft feet eve expels three resew eres
Gentle germs gelde grebe's geyser
Cede effects leek fell pecks self lyfes
Hellbent helmsmen helped hexed herders hence

Glen's remelted eggs be Serge-Grey
It insistingly implys impish ipsissimis insipidity
He held next her belched sender heel
Jiggling jibs jinx jimmy's jill jig

Its smilingly spiny impish mississippi I-I-I Is It dinty?
Kidding kibitz kick killing kings kitsch
sigil sign jimmy jib jingling jil
Livid linitis limits limbs limp

Big **** kid kicks thinking gill's zit kink
Midriffs mimics Mis's minimizing mistypings
Slim villi distils it, mini blimp
nil ninhydrin nihilists nicks nyxis nightly

Ms Mmisty's zip disc, if firm, is miming mining
ontology on top of oophoron ostomy.
Hindi hint silly lynchings. Skinny nix I stir
phonology 'pon phytol plywood poops polyglots pompons.

Polygon hoof-moon on poor toys toot
qophs
phony thong ploy loops monolog poppy.  Woody plop! Psst!
Rooks romp rootstock rods

"Posh" - Q
Schoolroom scoffs scoop shockproof snort stools
Mock stork pro or door toss
Thyrotomy 'top torpor tot's torso

So-so rooftop honk slots. Morocco sloops off
Usufruct tu upchucks
Stormy troops root to tot trothy
Vulgus vult vults

**** such curt cut ups
Wrung wctu
Vulgus vult vults
Xu

Wrung WCTU
Yummy yurts
Xu
Zulu zymurgy

Yummy! Try us!
Lawman scandal any pay at a scab yap tat tartly
Zulu zymurgy
Almanac-scratch that-clay tract vacancy
pantoum, lipogram, alliteration
Aryan Sam Jun 2018
Ni zindagi'ch aaja fer ni
Zindagi'ch aaja fer ni
Sathon russ gayi ae peed marjaani
Zakhman nu fer chhil jaa
Beh ja ankhiyan'ch ban ke paani
Zindagi'ch aaja fer ni

Vekh mere bul'chandre
Fer hansde ne dard bhula ke
Haaseya naal pawe aadiyan
Dil honkeya ton ankh ji bacha ke haaye
Fer mere muhre khad jaa
Taza hoje koyi yaad ni purani

Zindagi'ch aaja fer ni
Sathon russ gayi ae peed marjaani
Zakhman nu fer chhil jaa
Peh ja ankhiyan'ch ban ke paani
Zindagi'ch aaja fer ni

Langh ja ni rooh vich di
Agg fer ni lahu nu lag jaave
Hathaan utte kar totka
Meri zindagi di leek mitt jave haaye

Ankhiyan'ch neend radke
Ankhiyan'ch neend radke
Langhe chees koyi haddan de thaa ni

Zindagi'ch aaja fer ni
Saathon russ gayi ae peed marjaani
Zakhman nu fer chhil jaa
Peh ja ankhiyan'ch ban ke paani
Zindagi'ch aaja fer ni
there was a little turtle his shell it had a leek
the rain was getting in he had not slept all week
he was very stressed and he began to cry
spotted by an albatross flying near by
the albatross flew down and saw  a little crack
running down the middle of the turtles back
dont worry said the albatross i know the thing to do
i will get some leaves and make a shelter just for you
the albatross gathered leaves and made a little tent
then when it was finished in the turtle went.
the turtle he was happy now in his tent so deep
he curled his shell and caught up with some sleep.
THE PROLOGUE.

WHEN folk had laughed all at this nice case
Of Absolon and Hendy Nicholas,
Diverse folk diversely they said,
But for the more part they laugh'd and play'd;           *were diverted
And at this tale I saw no man him grieve,
But it were only Osewold the Reeve.
Because he was of carpenteres craft,
A little ire is in his hearte laft
;                               left
He gan to grudge
and blamed it a lite.              murmur *little.
"So the* I,"  quoth he, "full well could I him quite
   thrive match
With blearing
of a proude miller's eye,                    dimming
If that me list to speak of ribaldry.
But I am old; me list not play for age;
Grass time is done, my fodder is now forage.
This white top
writeth mine olde years;                           head
Mine heart is also moulded
as mine hairs;                 grown mouldy
And I do fare as doth an open-erse
;                         medlar
That ilke
fruit is ever longer werse,                             same
Till it be rotten *in mullok or in stre
.    on the ground or in straw
We olde men, I dread, so fare we;
Till we be rotten, can we not be ripe;
We hop* away, while that the world will pipe;                     dance
For in our will there sticketh aye a nail,
To have an hoary head and a green tail,
As hath a leek; for though our might be gone,
Our will desireth folly ever-in-one
:                       continually
For when we may not do, then will we speak,
Yet in our ashes cold does fire reek.
                         smoke
Four gledes
have we, which I shall devise
,         coals * describe
Vaunting, and lying, anger, covetise.                     *covetousness
These foure sparks belongen unto eld.
Our olde limbes well may be unweld
,                           unwieldy
But will shall never fail us, that is sooth.
And yet have I alway a coltes tooth,
As many a year as it is passed and gone
Since that my tap of life began to run;
For sickerly
, when I was born, anon                          certainly
Death drew the tap of life, and let it gon:
And ever since hath so the tap y-run,
Till that almost all empty is the tun.
The stream of life now droppeth on the chimb.
The silly tongue well may ring and chime
Of wretchedness, that passed is full yore
:                        long
With olde folk, save dotage, is no more.

When that our Host had heard this sermoning,
He gan to speak as lordly as a king,
And said; "To what amounteth all this wit?
What? shall we speak all day of holy writ?
The devil made a Reeve for to preach,
As of a souter
a shipman, or a leach.                    cobbler
Say forth thy tale, and tarry not the time:                
surgeon
Lo here is Deptford, and 'tis half past prime:
Lo Greenwich, where many a shrew is in.
It were high time thy tale to begin."

"Now, sirs," quoth then this Osewold the Reeve,
I pray you all that none of you do grieve,
Though I answer, and somewhat set his hove
,                  hood
For lawful is *force off with force to shove.
           to repel force
This drunken miller hath y-told us here                        by force

How that beguiled was a carpentere,
Paraventure* in scorn, for I am one:                            perhaps
And, by your leave, I shall him quite anon.
Right in his churlish termes will I speak,
I pray to God his necke might to-break.
He can well in mine eye see a stalk,
But in his own he cannot see a balk."

Notes to the Prologue to the Reeves Tale.

1. "With blearing of a proude miller's eye": dimming his eye;
playing off a joke on him.

2. "Me list not play for age": age takes away my zest for
drollery.

3. The medlar, the fruit of the mespilus tree, is only edible when
rotten.

4. Yet in our ashes cold does fire reek: "ev'n in our ashes live
their wonted fires."

5. A colt's tooth; a wanton humour, a relish for pleasure.

6. Chimb: The rim of a barrel where the staves project beyond
the head.

7. With olde folk, save dotage, is no more: Dotage is all that is
left them; that is, they can only dwell fondly, dote, on the past.

8. Souter: cobbler; Scottice, "sutor;"' from Latin, "suere," to
sew.

9. "Ex sutore medicus"  (a surgeon from a cobbler) and "ex
sutore nauclerus" (a  ****** or pilot from a cobbler) were both
proverbial expressions in the Middle Ages.

10. Half past prime: half-way between prime and tierce; about
half-past seven in the morning.

11. Set his hove; like "set their caps;" as in the description of
the Manciple in the Prologue, who "set their aller cap".  "Hove"
or "houfe," means "hood;" and the phrase signifies to be even
with, outwit.

12. The illustration of the mote and the beam, from Matthew.

THE TALE.

At Trompington, not far from Cantebrig,
                      Cambridge
There goes a brook, and over that a brig,
Upon the whiche brook there stands a mill:
And this is *very sooth
that I you tell.               complete truth
A miller was there dwelling many a day,
As any peacock he was proud and gay:
Pipen he could, and fish, and nettes bete,                     *prepare
And turne cups, and wrestle well, and shete
.                     shoot
Aye by his belt he bare a long pavade
,                         poniard
And of his sword full trenchant was the blade.
A jolly popper
bare he in his pouch;                            dagger
There was no man for peril durst him touch.
A Sheffield whittle
bare he in his hose.                   small knife
Round was his face, and camuse
was his nose.                  flat
As pilled
as an ape's was his skull.                     peeled, bald.
He was a market-beter
at the full.                             brawler
There durste no wight hand upon him legge
,                         lay
That he ne swore anon he should abegge
.             suffer the penalty

A thief he was, for sooth, of corn and meal,
And that a sly, and used well to steal.
His name was *hoten deinous Simekin
        called "Disdainful Simkin"
A wife he hadde, come of noble kin:
The parson of the town her father was.
With her he gave full many a pan of brass,
For that Simkin should in his blood ally.
She was y-foster'd in a nunnery:
For Simkin woulde no wife, as he said,
But she were well y-nourish'd, and a maid,
To saven his estate and yeomanry:
And she was proud, and pert as is a pie.                        magpie
A full fair sight it was to see them two;
On holy days before her would he go
With his tippet* y-bound about his head;                           hood
And she came after in a gite
of red,                          gown
And Simkin hadde hosen of the same.
There durste no wight call her aught but Dame:
None was so hardy, walking by that way,
That with her either durste *rage or play
,                use freedom
But if he would be slain by Simekin                            unless
With pavade, or with knife, or bodekin.
For jealous folk be per'lous evermo':
Algate
they would their wives wende so.           unless *so behave
And eke for she was somewhat smutterlich,                        *****
She was as dign* as water in a ditch,                             nasty
And all so full of hoker
, and bismare*.   *ill-nature *abusive speech
Her thoughte that a lady should her spare,        not judge her hardly
What for her kindred, and her nortelrie           *nurturing, education
That she had learned in the nunnery.

One daughter hadde they betwixt them two
Of twenty year, withouten any mo,
Saving a child that was of half year age,
In cradle it lay, and was a proper page.
                           boy
This wenche thick and well y-growen was,
With camuse
nose, and eyen gray as glass;                         flat
With buttocks broad, and breastes round and high;
But right fair was her hair, I will not lie.
The parson of the town, for she was fair,
In purpose was to make of her his heir
Both of his chattels and his messuage,
And *strange he made it
of her marriage.           he made it a matter
His purpose was for to bestow her high                    of difficulty

Into some worthy blood of ancestry.
For holy Church's good may be dispended                          spent
On holy Church's blood that is descended.
Therefore he would his holy blood honour
Though that he holy Churche should devour.

Great soken* hath this miller, out of doubt,    toll taken for grinding
With wheat and malt, of all the land about;
And namely
there was a great college                        especially
Men call the Soler Hall at Cantebrege,
There was their wheat and eke their malt y-ground.
And on a day it happed in a stound
,                           suddenly
Sick lay the manciple
of a malady,                         steward
Men *weened wisly
that he shoulde die.              thought certainly
For which this miller stole both meal and corn
An hundred times more than beforn.
For theretofore he stole but courteously,
But now he was a thief outrageously.
For which the warden chid and made fare,                          fuss
But thereof set the miller not a tare;           he cared not a rush
He crack'd his boast, and swore it was not so.            talked big

Then were there younge poore scholars two,
That dwelled in the hall of which I say;
Testif* they were, and ***** for to play;                headstrong
And only for their mirth and revelry
Upon the warden busily they cry,
To give them leave for but a *little stound
,               short time
To go to mill, and see their corn y-ground:
And hardily* they durste lay their neck,                         boldly
The miller should not steal them half a peck
Of corn by sleight, nor them by force bereave
                *take away
And at the last the warden give them leave:
John hight the one, and Alein hight the other,
Of one town were they born, that highte Strother,
Far in the North, I cannot tell you where.
This Alein he made ready all his gear,
And on a horse the sack he cast anon:
Forth went Alein the clerk, and also John,
With good sword and with buckler by their side.
John knew the way, him needed not no guide,
And at the mill the sack adown he lay'th.

Alein spake f
there was a little turtle his shell it had a leek
the rain was getting in he hadnt slept all week.

he was very stressed and he began to cry
spotted by an seagull flying near by.

the seagull he flew down and saw the little crack
running down the middle of the turtles back.

dont worry said the seagull i know the thing to do
i will get some leaves and make a tent for you.

the seagull gathered leaves and made a little tent
then when it was finished inside the turtle went.

the turtle he was happy in his tent so deep
he curled up in his shell and caught up with some sleep.
Aaron E Oct 2019
If you're gonna be lonely,
maybe learn how to cook.

Parade the smoke to the rafters
after doubting the book.

Alert the parents in vowing the earnest
salt in the brook.

A fervent effort relays to bacon kisses you took.

Brine is cheap,
and on days like this
find a Mrs. or friend,
apply the bread crumb crisp.

Buy the egg to allure.
confide that "this might miss."
If not to them to yourself.
Try the odd light whip.

Find a guide or a dozen.
Fire doesn't necessarily deny the pleasant after math.
Passable dishes levy comfort on cold nights,
dying for treasure dancing in the lights,
and forming function digging diamond from plastic wrap.

"I could serve a candied berry
pair it fairly cold below a lighter cream."
See the finer things elaborate below the theme.
Mise en place allowing,
yolk to heat,
folk wreaths are crowning.

Found a leek to brown,
found out what friends to feed can mean

Be the barer
taste your food
silk confections
social fruit
Buck the system
Find connection
tuck the mood in
ginger root

get your list out
pay it forward
take the order
grab a whisk
make an impact
Pleat the border
break the silence
wrap a gift
David Barr Dec 2013
The City of Derby holds her breath amidst the crisis of historical ramblings and talkative expressions of inhibition.
Do not be deceived. Roaches are not mere insects, but are also three-course celebrations of haunting and religious engagements. There are Peaks which lie beyond the stratospheres of Leek.
Although the parameters of yesteryear project their own splendour, let us acknowledge the silver hair which drips with eternal statements of antagonistic adoration in Curzon Street.
Oh, rose of Sharon, in my sheer lack of understanding, I do not invalidate those instructions to depart from Birmingham New Street.
I have deeply immersed myself in Welsh pools of genuine loss, and have found a precious commodity which I had never beheld in former lifetimes.
Furthermore, I lament the loss of such generational integrity.
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2018
Shot a rabbit two days ago, it was a good shot taken at distance from height. The rabbit died instantly, it had been digging holes in my lawns, it had to go.

I watched it die and I had cause to ponder the death from a religious angle, where believers say we go to another place when we die?

I know where this rabbit went, he went into my vegetable garden, buried deep with all the other varmints and critters that have crossed my path.

Over the years we, (my wife and I), have turned that patch of barren volcanic ash into a wondrous source of lettuce, potatoes, onions, rhubarb, tomatoes and leek..by adding the carbonaceous remnants of not only these creatures but of composted vegetation, seaweed and selected fertilizers. We also grow the most beautiful roses and deliahs and crysanthemums you will ever come across.

And do you know...in the dark of night other little rabbits and bugs and things come out and nibble those very creations...unaware that they are completing the circle of being.

This is the true spirit of creation, as I see it, where deep in the garden, the motes of nutrition transmogrify beneficially from one entity to another, eventually, for the common good of all.

This is the basis of my belief. Feet on the ground...
What is....most definately is!

M.
Taranaki NZ
There is no time like the present to be present,
past times are no times in which to be passing time
I walk past strangers who are pleasant in passing
presenting me with a conundrum.

I'm awake with a coffee
I was asleep
I keep waking and it's taking its toll

rolling a cigarette,
it eases my nerves
there is comfort in things that we know.

Work doesn't fall into the category
of comfort
although I go every day,
masochistic to the end
I defend my right to do so

I only start dressing to cover my depression
dark is the colour for me

see how Winter creeps in to thin out the herd,
but
I'll not go with the flow that tends to move slow
when the snow lays deep

I'll go back to sleep or to work.
Tom Sutton Oct 2012
I am a gorilla,
I am an ape.
And I’m trying to escape
This Golden Cage of youthful age,
I grace myself with the withering ineptitude
Of a penguin in commons.
I have the ambition of a pumpkin at Halloween,
That wants nothing more, than to be lit from the inside.
But my fiery breath is nothing more than whiskey
And cigarettes,
A lose regret of swollen knuckles,
Reminiscent of the iron age, I’m blowing off steam.
But it’s only condensed water on the inside of these windows.
Where the lights are off and there’s no one home.
Steve left me on the edge of moon rock,
A town that missed the stars of the night when they looked to sun,
So I sit playing ****,
Puffed out like a swan but,
I’m all neck.

I wear a leek with pride and Yes,
I am a dragon on match days,
With claws and shrills, and right I’m sky high,
Cutting through your fluffy clouds, soft and weak.
Copper clad in pennyworth jeans I never chose.
Flaws that will be the floor for me,
Because in my town we never heard of stepladders,
We reach for the sky by climbing hills on tip toes.
Mountains we made with mole hills
My mother wont let go.
With **** so deep even spuds wont grow.
Apologies like auburgines, may be good for you
But I don’t like the taste.
So I’ll continue to squash the marrow between my knuckles,
But you can go gaga if you want to,
Because, I was born this way.
Great pun.
Ivie Jul 2013
It hurts, it hurts more than when I ended up in hospital, I slipped from the curved metal stairs and cracked all my ribs,
You sat on the frosty steel chair and fed me warm leek soup all day, I was high and we cracked *** jokes all through the visiting hours.
Or when I fractured my right leg and couldn’t walk for months, you wheelchaired me to all my revered museums,
And when it rained that evening and I felt trapped and pathetic in the ****** wheelchair,
You lifted me up and twirled me around and kissed every sore spot in my body including my terrible heart,
Till I started laughing, all giddy and intoxicated with your droplets brushed lips

Or when I burnt my fingers while making green curry and you had to take me to infirmary,
They bandaged my fingers in bubblegum pink gauze an told me the scars would never leave and I wouldn’t be able to write or hold you for a week,
You made me churros that whole week with Swiss choc dipping and kissed all my scars away, painting vibrant swallows on them.
I loved you, so much it made me insane, but it also made me breathe. Funny, how the direction of the wind has changed.
It hurts now, more than it ever did, I stand on the steps of metropolitan museum of art and the ache in my veins magnifies,
The longing ablaze like all your plaid shirts, nirvana records and all the synthetic lilies you gave me, quoting they will never dry up, Like our love will always remain, burning on my terrace
Funny how, now I don’t believe a sentence you said.
I sing all the songs we loved for the last time, to get it all out, of my system and bleeding heart.
My lips get greedy for the praised lyrics and midnight kisses.
The rocking chair in the balcony swinging in the breezy night I hope it’s you, my eyes left disappointed at the empty gloomy sight
My heart getting accustomed to Bukowski instead of much devoured Rilke.
Sometimes in life you never understand why they left, why it ended all of a sudden?
When did you stop loving me and when all my importance vanished into thin air like you did?
Sometimes all that is left to do is accept it and move on, and that may be the seemingly impossible part.
Sometimes you just have to pour water to the vivid fire for putting gasoline was proving to be poisonous and   CHOKING.
a long poem after so long no?,it feels good to be still able to write it,i thought the writers block would never leave,crazy how when the school starts i have no time to write but only then the inspiration crawls back in ":)
John B Jan 2013
drink pour drink

lacking love I sink

swimming in the pink

my soul is stretching for the leek

the thing I want I'm doomed to want

if ever id had it, id have at least lost

but never at all not for lack of trying

meany a time offered out to be cried in

any time other its *** or its sin

unlovable or am I looked down upon

some god picked me to frown upon

some life randomly to be shat upon

unneeded my outdated satyricon

Faust verily howbeit parfay

whilom methinks maugre swoopstake

twixt speed and sweven, swink eke teen

mayhap afore alack fore fie

clepe gardyloo thole

whosoever sith wist whereof speed
My life flashed before my eyes
That's when I knew it was full of lies.

So many people come and go
Pulling my heart strings to and fro.

People think of it as a game
To make my life so full of pain.

All the tears and blood I've let leek
All because I've been dubbed a freak.

Even the one that claimed he loved me left
Breaking what was left of the heart in my chest.

A mother who lectures me
When all I want is to be set free.

One day I almost died
No one but me sat down and cried.

It made me wonder if I should of let go
At that moment the depression decided to show.

I wish to be numb
But I know that feeling is never going to come.

Why can't people care
Life just isn't fair.

It was so painful, I wish I never had to see
My life, flash before me.
cheryl love Oct 2013
At the end of the working week
All that's left is cabbage and leek
Throw them in a pan
With bits of old ham
and you have got bubble and squeak.
Sara Kellie Jan 2021
This pressure cooker,
supposedly life.
Scrambling to meet
a husband or wife.
Missing the things,
needed the most.
slipping from life,
becoming a ghost.
I've got potato,
bring me some leek.
I'll put it together,
await your critique.

So . . .

Lets do soup together.
Today, tomorrow.
Maybe forever.

Kaydee.
Missing the simple things
So good my girl that she be
Be the one that made for me
She do the dish and make a meal
She lovin' good das good an' real

Nobody know how she make me feel
A stain my life leaves on her sheet
Heaving up a gunk of dweet
And rubbing all about her leek
She gonna need a new bath deet
Ashlyn Kriegel Apr 2014
He brought me
Some
Hot coffee

And planted me
An
Apple tree

I gave him
Some
Soy milk

And gifted him
A
Fresh leek

Then we watched
The
Buzzing bees
Making
Sweet honey
Claire S Mar 2010
This cell...
Hard and cold
I am hidden in a well
Dark, deep, and damp
Where is the hope that one must seek
Where is the happiness and love
Is there a pure white cooing dove
Or do all of those things leek away
Have the walls always been bleak and gray
Has the sun ever shown at the high time of day
For once I fell all alone

The ice-cold water has an echoing sound
Is it me or is it strangely quiet
Here I sit lost and scared
I am impaired for the sights I have seen
I know in my heart that I didn't do it
But I am here waiting for death
I sit and watch my days waste away
They sit there and wait for my life to pass by
What would happen if there was justice
But then again, what is justice
For once I feel all alone
Taken and without home...
Copyright 2010
effaced Jan 2015
L oveless
I nfectious
F earless
E mpty
-
I solated
S uffering
-
N otorious
O ver-rated
T erminal
-
W oeful
O dible
R uthless
T ime-consuming
H ateful
-
L onely
I ntoxicating
V icious
I illaqueates
N narquois
G leek
--
C J Baxter Aug 2015
Yer heads just a bed for others opinions to lay in;
growing bigger, badder and bolder there,
until they’re covered in sores, manky and reeking.
Yer heads just a place for others thoughts to leek in.
But dinnae get disheartened by their chat.
Remember its your head thats dain aw that.
They never said a word, its yer head that ye heard.
Joe Fitz Jul 2013
War
Gorillas in the mist, soldiers in the deep
Push the iron fist, stroll straight through your street
Killers with a list, stomping with there feet
InVision this, a heart without a beat

They listen to there orders, mercy is the weak
They have no compassion, they leave the blood to leek
Fighting is there passion, there push straight to there peak
They destroy all around them, for the enemy they do seek

Take away people stories, leave them just for dead
Forcing a famine so, people cant be feed
The pictures they have painted inside the victims head
If you dare to disobey, they pump you full of lead

War
What is it good for?
To take away the poor
To break down the door
At the call of final straw

War
What is it good for?
To invade you native shore
To take the oil they may store
To put the weaker on the floor
So they door not ask for more
They leave us so unsure

War
What is it good for?
Floor Sep 2019
Lieve mama,

Je hebt mijn grafrede geschreven. Vol overtuiging heb je de pen op het papier gezet en de woorden laten vloeien.
Zonder enige twijfel kon jij zo je speech schrijven. Je deed het in het ziekenhuis, terwijl ik nietsvermoedend naast je zat. Je liet het me niet lezen, ik heb zelf je boekje gepakt. Nadat jij zo vaak mijn pijn op het papier heb kunnen lezen, leek het me niet meer dan eerlijk om te zien waar jij al zo lang mee zat. Uit je woorden kon ik opmaken dat je al een lange tijd aan het rouwen bent. Ik ben nog niet dood, maar je weet dat het eraan zit te komen. De constante schaduw van de suïcidale aanvallen hebben de monsters in je hoofd als een wild vuur aangewakkerd. Je gelooft niet meer in mijn leven. Het is een droom die ieder moment kan stoppen. Je weet dat je daarna nooit meer zult dromen en klampt je krampachtig vast aan de laatste beelden die je voor je **** halen. We hebben de laatste tijd niet meer dan ruzie gehad. We voelen de dood beide zo hard in ons nek hijgen dat we elkaar nauwelijks aan kunnen kijken. Het komt door mij. Wat zou het nu nog uitmaken of ik dood ga of niet. Ik heb je al zoveel pijn en verdriet gekost, dit kan zo niet verder mam. Ik wil je geen pijn meer doen. Je hebt mijn grafrede geschreven, verdomme mam. Je hebt het voor mij definitief gemaakt. Ik dacht dat ik er niet mee zou zitten, ik dacht dat ik mijn gevoel weer weg kon stoppen, maar mam je hebt het definitief gemaakt. Ik geef je nergens de schuld van. Ik had nooit dat boekje moeten pakken, maar mam je bent zo afgesloten. Ik wil weer met je zijn, samen kunnen lachen en huilen. Tegenwoordig kunnen we elkaar niet uitstaan. Ik voel de band niet meer. Ik begin mezelf weer langzaam terug te trekken en als het eenmaal zo ver is, zal het weer fout gaan. Het is voor mij, net als voor jou, een tikkende tijdbom. Ik sta op springen mam, ik kan niet meer. Ik vocht voor jou, maar jij hebt me al opgegeven. Jij bent al aan het rouwen voor een kind dat nog niet dood is.
Pixie Feb 20
When I was in 1st grade I would jump off the swing set just to feel alive
I got a lot of attention because the other kids thought I could die
Maybe I was lacking some sort of Imbalance chemically in my mind
Because the attention they gave me Was a new type of high

I illicit reactions just so I can feel fine
Blood is in the sink I think I can finally see the light
I want to feel the wind between my arms And lift into the air just one more time
The attention is addicting

Thick eyeliner and a black boobie dress
12 years old and they say I'm not filled out quite yet
I enjoyed the validation the old men gave me
Blood red, pill dead
Just like the pretty cigarette girls on TV said.
stuck in this loveless hole until somebody saves me.
Self destructive, enable the pain
Turn the corner and play their game.
I only want to what's worst for me.

I illicit reactions just to see
The emotionally intense delivery
Oh you should see your face,
And in the frown you gave me.
I'm just a liar now
No one hears my screams
There's blood in the sink and no one is listening

Lower middle class middle school *****, stealing pencil sharpeners every chance I could get
The blood is on my clothes and its not coming off
And I'll still send that old man a picture of my body
As I leek blood, draining it like a hobby.
He ignores my pain to fulfill his selfish pleasures knowing he gets to see a pubescent body with ******* on
I only like doing the things that are bad for me.

I illicit these reactions to keep the attraction
If I'm in control and I know their intentions, they can't hurt me
It can't happen
But there's still blood in the sink
God I'm so tragic
Wouldn't you think?
Rezium Oct 2020
They say self care is a main
To prevent you from becoming insane.
So let me lie back and figure it out.

Might take a smoke to or two,
Just to help the view.
Let's dive in deep and think of the sneak leek we seek like in a Disney channel movie.
There's a party and we're down barely floor one.
Let's check it out.

These Sirens are blaring yet we all dance along.
It's something they're all used to dancing around.
Call it my song or call it my calling,
It's a ******* Siren Party.

Where or where have you gone?
It's been 3 months long enough.
It's time to be more than alone.
I'm not alone I got and him and I.
We party like nothing's gonna change.
Grab a cup, kick back, have a drink of the extinct.

There's so much banging at the door yet I dont bother to answer.
It's a party in here where nothing ever changes.
Not even the moves we make or the things we faced.
We're just more laced.

These Sirens are blaring yet we all dance along.
It's somethings they're all used to dancing around.
Call it my song or call it my calling,
It's a ******* Siren Party.
We are aware of your precense yet we treat it like covid...
Pauline Morris Aug 2016
I think I've sprung a leek
There's nothing more to seek
Creating my own ocean
Void of all commotion
My eyes are turning gray
For today I'll just float away
Upon my sea of red
For your silence was all that needed to be said
O'Ryan Gloer Sep 2015
That house is burning
Not because someone started it
It just lost its purpose
It has nothing better to do but be destroyed
It is wiser that I and knows it must move on
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
If you stop using these machines they will rust
Creek, crumble, and collapse
Your very walls will betray your trust
Slowly let leek
Your words will no longer resonate
But fumble and become meek
And when these words can no longer support these
Two by fours
Slowly you will lose your doors
Like smoke your thoughts will bellow out
Clinging to the street
They will hijack another’s feet
And find themselves somewhere a bit more sweet
Only fire will be left to fill you
And you will engulf yourself
Just to keep warm.
Melodie Fowles Sep 2017
I don't think I ever wrote anything that scary
But just because you happened to dare me

I'll weave a tale of fear and dread
A story so vile it'll stop your heart dead

Deep in the night when you're asleep in bed
An creature most foul enters your head

He slits open your papery eardrums with his claws
And sneaks on through without even a pause

He runs his sharp nails along your tympanic cavity
And blood rains down as he licks at it absently

A slit he cuts in your middle temporal artery
Then he slides on in like a thief on a robbery

Riding the current on twists and turns
On the crimson tide he is now a foreign germ

When he reaches his prefered destination
It is here he will wreak his final devastation

Behind your eye he works his claws and drills your bone
Until he hits his mark and lets out a gleeful moan

From his mouth comes a proboscis long and sleek
Then out it's tip a rancid fluid it does leek

Turning your eyeball into slimy mush
He ***** up the fluid in one long gush

Then he squeezes through the hole that he made
And in the eyes remains is where he lays

When he wakes it's through your eyelid he tears
His furtive scrambling's on your face does pierce

As you wake up and the pain you can feel
Screams of terror as to your mother you appeal

The blood streaming slowly down your face
Is acidic and burning as it leaves a furrowed trace

Looking into the mirror in shock and dismay
You realise in horror that in your eye eggs have been laid.
Daan Oct 2019
Aan het einde van de week
moet ik naar een evenement,
dat mij bij beslissen leek
leuk te worden. Je kent
het wel, niet iedereen
en je moet veel doen
alsof, acteren.
Die moed kan keren
want het was zo druk,
het was vermoeiend op het werk,
'k had niet veel geluk
in de les of in de kerk
om op te letten, bij te blijven,
goal te getten.
Helaas, ik heb al toegezegd,
mijn vat is op en ik wil slapen,
ik wil rusten, voldoening geven
aan mijn eigen lusten.

Afgezegd,
gezwegen en belegen, leven
alle mensen verder
en ben ik heel tevreden
dat ik nog net genoeg had
in dat vat om te zeggen
dat het enige wat ik wilde,
mezelf erbij neerleggen
en hopen dat jullie
er niet te zwaar aan tilden.
Hervulling
Gabrielle May 25
The world enters
She holds a plate
Bows to the table
Where you just ate

“Someone nice to fall in love with?”
“Yea sure, why not?”
It's been a heavy meal
Your stomach is wrought

Fork stabs at the corners
Breading, bland and bleak
You miss the previous course
This is all just lard and leek

But you asked for this
It's time to eat
You opted in
For something sweet

Are sweet things
Not enough for you?
Do you crave the heat?
Of spice and rue

Those rich delicacies
Made you shatter and break
Let go of them now
And finish your plate

What you get now
And all there is to order
A small, simple circle
With a felt-tip border

A pillow to sleep on
A jumper to wear
Someone nice to fall in love with
If you even care

A light to see by
A melody to hum
Flowers that creep
Between apple and plum

A meal that is certain
A modest, tidy pie
Someone nice to fall in love with
If you give it a try
This poem is about finding someone who is really lovely and stable, but part of you is still hung up on a previous tumultuous relationship.
You have to stay home all day
to make bread
While it rises three times
before it gets cooked
Punch it down twice
Then its ready for the heat

Think of something else to do
Pay bills and balance the checkbook?
Write letters or poems?
Read the last 100 pages
of "Look Homeward Angel"?
Stay in the kitchen and make soup?

Simulate the restaurant's baked bisque
one small pie pumpkin, cut and steamed
one sliced leek
one fat carrot
two **** chopped apples
Cumin, spike, olive oil.

Bake and let it rest

— The End —