Good Reads - No Extreme Content
Trixareforkids
Forum Posts: 2597
Dangerous Mind
6
Joined 2nd Jan 2016Forum Posts: 2597
coloring outside of you
I think I came screaming from the womb
with an chronic case of
what-the-hell-ever.
And that was mostly how
it's been until you showed up.
When I was in kindergarten,
we were coloring the ditto sheet
with an apple on it,
for the letter A.
All of the kids colored theirs red
with green leaves.
But I liked yellow apples,
and green apples,
and red apples,
so I made a striped apple,
with all three colors sort of slipshod
and bleeding outside of the lines
in a merry visual cacophony;
I made the leaves brown.
The other three kids at my coloring table
laughed at me.
I was weird,
because apples aren't striped,
and because my coloring was wrong.
When I was 16, on a whim,
some girls and I
drove an hour to St. Augustine,
crammed like sardines in a 1986 Chevette
with no air conditioning,
to eat hand-churned ice cream
and smoke really good cigars,
until everyone puked except me
and my girl T.
As I sat there, puffing a cigar,
taking in the tourist sites and the
Florida skyline,
eating the history,
the street artists,
and the man in dreadlocks singing
a U2 song like a bohemian dream
with an open guitar case in front of him,
and I knew I could live forever
I wished then I was old enough to buy
whiskey for the cigar,
or had the foresight to
steal some
and a man stopped dead and said,
and I swear this is true:
"The only other woman I've ever seen
smoke a cigar is my wife."
I never learned about boundaries,
and my light is more beautiful for it.
So everything in me screams
to break these arbitrary rules
you showed up with.
I think of the street artists,
and I wonder if I'll live forever.
I wish I never
(cared)
that you colored
your apples
striped.
with an chronic case of
what-the-hell-ever.
And that was mostly how
it's been until you showed up.
When I was in kindergarten,
we were coloring the ditto sheet
with an apple on it,
for the letter A.
All of the kids colored theirs red
with green leaves.
But I liked yellow apples,
and green apples,
and red apples,
so I made a striped apple,
with all three colors sort of slipshod
and bleeding outside of the lines
in a merry visual cacophony;
I made the leaves brown.
The other three kids at my coloring table
laughed at me.
I was weird,
because apples aren't striped,
and because my coloring was wrong.
When I was 16, on a whim,
some girls and I
drove an hour to St. Augustine,
crammed like sardines in a 1986 Chevette
with no air conditioning,
to eat hand-churned ice cream
and smoke really good cigars,
until everyone puked except me
and my girl T.
As I sat there, puffing a cigar,
taking in the tourist sites and the
Florida skyline,
eating the history,
the street artists,
and the man in dreadlocks singing
a U2 song like a bohemian dream
with an open guitar case in front of him,
and I knew I could live forever
I wished then I was old enough to buy
whiskey for the cigar,
or had the foresight to
steal some
and a man stopped dead and said,
and I swear this is true:
"The only other woman I've ever seen
smoke a cigar is my wife."
I never learned about boundaries,
and my light is more beautiful for it.
So everything in me screams
to break these arbitrary rules
you showed up with.
I think of the street artists,
and I wonder if I'll live forever.
I wish I never
(cared)
that you colored
your apples
striped.
Written by Betty
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Where the fuck is Betty? I need more Betty!
Trixareforkids
Forum Posts: 2597
Dangerous Mind
6
Joined 2nd Jan 2016Forum Posts: 2597
Trixareforkids
Forum Posts: 2597
Dangerous Mind
6
Joined 2nd Jan 2016Forum Posts: 2597
The Little World
"None of the answers of my pious preceptors would satisfy me, and my demands that they cease taking things for granted quite upset them. Close reasoning was something new in their little world of Semitic mythology." - H. P. Lovecraft
Read to me the lesson
and I'll memorise the words,
sing to me the standard songs
and I'll recall the tune...
The stories told
time and time again
create a world
as wholly and as magically
as when the eternal hands crafted
sea, and sky, and soil.
The Book is a door
and the Word is a candle
lighting the dark room beyond.
When I am close to Thee,
then I am close to a place
where light charges the bones.
So read to me the lesson
and I'll memorise the words,
sing to me the standard songs
and I'll recall the tune...
Read to me the lesson
and I'll memorise the words,
sing to me the standard songs
and I'll recall the tune...
The stories told
time and time again
create a world
as wholly and as magically
as when the eternal hands crafted
sea, and sky, and soil.
The Book is a door
and the Word is a candle
lighting the dark room beyond.
When I am close to Thee,
then I am close to a place
where light charges the bones.
So read to me the lesson
and I'll memorise the words,
sing to me the standard songs
and I'll recall the tune...
Written by The_Silly_Sibyl
(Jack Thomas)
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Trixareforkids
Forum Posts: 2597
Dangerous Mind
6
Joined 2nd Jan 2016Forum Posts: 2597
A letter to You
Sometimes you write of darkness
that spills from your fingertips,
As naturally as the prints
marring your hands
As if pain has become more recognizable to you
than your own fingerprints.
You say that you're unlovable.
You say that you're a disappointment.
and god knows the things you tell yourself
that no one ever hears.
And though we are just strangers,
I want to tell you that
You're Wrong.
You may call yourself Destruction,
but there's nothing wrong with rainbowed gasoline.
Without it, those scraps of metal would never find freedom on the concrete.
And truck stops
are a driver's second home.
A place to rest their weary hearts
and find the energy to keep moving forward.
and I know, I know, I know
what's its like when Sadness becomes routine
and your hands keep shaking from the coldness inside you.
I'm not sure if the sun is shining,
But if it isn't
I'll make a canvas of the walls
to try and bring it back.
And I'm sorry if this comes out sounding awkward
(I've never been good at this)
But I guess what I'm trying to say is:
Please.
Please, Don't Disappear.
My ears couldn't handle the silence.
that spills from your fingertips,
As naturally as the prints
marring your hands
As if pain has become more recognizable to you
than your own fingerprints.
You say that you're unlovable.
You say that you're a disappointment.
and god knows the things you tell yourself
that no one ever hears.
And though we are just strangers,
I want to tell you that
You're Wrong.
You may call yourself Destruction,
but there's nothing wrong with rainbowed gasoline.
Without it, those scraps of metal would never find freedom on the concrete.
And truck stops
are a driver's second home.
A place to rest their weary hearts
and find the energy to keep moving forward.
and I know, I know, I know
what's its like when Sadness becomes routine
and your hands keep shaking from the coldness inside you.
I'm not sure if the sun is shining,
But if it isn't
I'll make a canvas of the walls
to try and bring it back.
And I'm sorry if this comes out sounding awkward
(I've never been good at this)
But I guess what I'm trying to say is:
Please.
Please, Don't Disappear.
My ears couldn't handle the silence.
Written by randomMeAndBob
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ThornWithin
Joined 27th Feb 2016
Forum Posts: 522
Thought Provoker
Forum Posts: 522
Good reads here ... but so far this kicks ass... like REALLY kicked ass !
Trixareforkids said:And now for a kick in the ass...
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/66786-fuck-you-and-your-poetry/
Thanks for compiling this section Trixareforkids ! Cool stuff !
Trixareforkids said:And now for a kick in the ass...
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/66786-fuck-you-and-your-poetry/
Thanks for compiling this section Trixareforkids ! Cool stuff !
Trixareforkids
Forum Posts: 2597
Dangerous Mind
6
Joined 2nd Jan 2016Forum Posts: 2597
Trixareforkids
Forum Posts: 2597
Dangerous Mind
6
Joined 2nd Jan 2016Forum Posts: 2597
Related submission no longer exists.