Love sence
Love is
Non sence...
Kiss is
Lovve sence...
sex is free
Sence...
old or youth...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Sence You Went Away
Seems lak to me de stars don't shine so bright,
Seems lak to me de sun done loss his light,
Seems lak to me der's nothin' goin' right,
Sence you went away.
Seems lak to me de sky ain't half so blue,
Seems lak to me dat ev'ything wants you,
Seems lak to me I don't know what to do,
Sence you went away.
Seems lak to me dat ev'ything is wrong,
Seems lak to me de day's jes twice es long,
Seems lak to me de bird's forgot his song,
Sence you went away.
Seems lak to me I jes can't he'p but sigh,
Seems lak to me ma th'oat keeps gittin' dry,
Seems lak to me a tear stays in ma eye,
Sence you went away.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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A Sence
love last
out...
with sex..
look
out
with youth...
sin out with out
sence...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Eyes-radio-lies
Slipping past position
You know I watch you dive
Watching you painted in chrome max factor
And feeling number one
all alone now
I can see you way, to the drone
Radio waves, hitting your brain from the phone
I can see
I cant see whats on your mind
Because your never alone
I am the voice inside your head
And the eyes in your radio
Im the eyes in your radio (radio, radio)
Im the eyes in your radio (radio, radio)
Hello mr. race car driver
You know Im watching you too
In the trauma-room, brain dead, still you went faster
Now your number means nothing
Mr. nickel-plated candyman
Are you feeling in lifeless in aluminum
Spinning decisions to the core
As everyone dances in the fast lane
I cant see whats on your mind
Because your never alone
I am the voice inside your head
And the eyes in your radio
Im the eyes in your radio (eyes in your radio)
Im the eyes in your radio (radio, radio)
With all thats fake, theres sence to make
From toys that break (from toys that, from toys that break)
Its time to throw away, all the bad things that you hated
You scared yourself away, now heres what you appreciate
Thats why people lie (people like you)
Thats why people lie (people like me)
Thats why people lie (people like you)
Thats why people lie (people like me)
Thats why people lie (so go away)
Thats why people lie (people like me)
Thats why people lie (people like you)
Thats why people lie
Im the eyes in your radio (eyes in your radio)
Im the eyes in your radio (radio, radio)
With all thats fake, theres sence to make, from toys that break (radio,
Radio...)
With all thats fake, theres sence to make, from toys that break (radio,
Radio...)
With all thats fake, theres sence to make, from toys that break
With all thats fake, theres sence to make, from toys that break
song performed by by Orgy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Acting sence
On the world
Any age...
Female wanted
Male friendship...
Male wanted
Female friendship...
It is not only
Commming for love...
Many thing is thear...
Witch female did not
Want male friendship...?
Witch male did not want
Female friendship...?
It is not body
Bio-tech...
yes...it is only for
Comen sence...or
Feeling...
For all
No hear miss chouse
Non sence....
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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To Jessica, Gone Back To The City
Sence fair Jessica hez left us
Seems ez ef she hed bereft us,
When she went, o’ half o’ livin’;
Fer we never knowed she’d driven
Into us so much content,
Till fair Jessica hed went.
(Knowed a feller once thet cried
When his yaller dog hed died.)
We hain’t near ez bright an’ chirky,
An’ the sun shines blue an’ murky,
Kind o’ sadly an’ dishearted,
Like ets sperret bed departed;
Just ez ef ets joy bed ceased
Sence fair Jessica ’s gone East.
(Not but what ets always sober
Sort o’ weather in October.)
Then the posies, too, seems human,
An’ hez all quit o’ their bloomin’;
An’ the trees they show a pallor
An’ hey turned a heart-sick yaller,
Sayin’, 'No use livin’ on
Ef fair Jessica hez gone.'
(Folks thet knows sez this ez all
Very common in the fall.)
Truth ez, I’m a-feelin’ sadly;
Things ez goin’ kind o’ badly
Round my heart an’ other vitals
(Brings on poetry recitals
O’ my woes ‘most ev’ry day)
Sence fair Jessica’s away.
(Kind o’ think thet I will haf ter
Smoke a leetle less hereafter.)
But, with fun aside, you know,
We’re blamed sorry she must go;
An’ we hope she’ll think, maybe,
‘Z well o’ us ez we o’ she.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Lonesome
MOTHER's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two,
An', oh, the house is lonesome ez a nest whose birds has flew
To other trees to build ag'in; the rooms seem jest so bare
That the echoes run like sperrits from the kitchen to the stair.
The shetters flap more lazy-like 'n what they used to do,
Sence mother's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
We've killed the fattest chicken an' we've cooked her to a turn;
We've made the richest gravy, but I jest don't give a durn
Fur nothin' 'at I drink er eat, er nothin' 'at I see.
The food ain't got the pleasant taste it used to have to me.
They's somep'n' stickin' in my throat ez tight ez hardened glue,
Sence mother's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
The hollyhocks air jest ez pink, they're double ones at that,
An' I wuz prouder of 'em than a baby of a cat.
But now I don't go near 'era, though they nod an' blush at me,
Fur they's somep'n' seems to gall me in their keerless sort o' glee
An' all their fren'ly noddin' an' their blushin' seems to say:
'You're putty lonesome, John, old boy, sence mother's gone away.'
The neighbors ain't so fren'ly ez it seems they'd ort to be;
They seem to be a-lookin' kinder sideways like at me,
A-kinder feared they'd tech me off ez ef I wuz a match,
An' all because 'at mother's gone an' I'm a-keepin' batch!
I'm shore I don't do nothin' worse 'n what I used to do
'Fore mother went a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
The sparrers ac's more fearsome like an' won't hop quite so near,
The cricket's chirp is sadder, an' the sky ain't ha'f so clear;
When ev'nin' comes, I set an' smoke tell my eyes begin to swim,
An' things aroun' commence to look all blurred an' faint an' dim.
Well, I guess I'll have to own up 'at I'm feelin' purty blue
Sence mother's gone a-visitin' to spend a month er two.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Song From An American Movie, Part 1
*dog barks*
The only thing that ever made sence to me
Is the world that I saw from an American movie
The only thing that ever made sence in my life
ooooh
is the sound of my little girl laughing.
Through the window of a summer night
I sit alone in the back yard
Wishing I could be inside
Just the sound of my little girl laughing
Makes me happy just to be a live.
ooooh
Makes me happy just to be alive.
ooooh
Makes me happy just to be alive.
Oooooh
Makes me happy just to be alive.
*little girl laughs*
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sounds Free
sex is two
heats words...
with the body...
with the mind...
speak sence some time....
silince many time...
sounds free....
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Xx
feel
the touch...
sence of
sex...
with the body...
hut the love...
love is simply
hanging the xx...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Love of dog
Dog
Is love
To his tong...
Another dog....
Taste the skin....
Love and love to him....
Sex is
Not hear....
Love sence
Is thear....and
Any wear...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Two Little Boots
TWO little boots all rough an' wo',
Two little boots!
Laws, I's kissed 'em times befo',
Dese little boots!
Seems de toes a-peepin' thoo
Dis hyeah hole an' sayin' 'Boo!'
Evah time dey looks at you —
Dese little boots.
Membah de time he put 'em on,
Dese little boots;
Riz an' called fu' 'em by dawn,
Dese little boots;
Den he tromped de livelong day,
Laffin' in his happy way,
Evaht'ing he had to say,
'My little boots!'
Kickin' de san' de whole day long,
Dem little boots;
Good de cobblah made 'em strong,
Dem little boots!
Rocks was fu' dat baby's use,
I'on had to stan' abuse
W'en you tu'ned dese champeens loose
Dese little boots!
Ust to make de ol' cat cry,
Dese little boots;
Den you walked it mighty high,
Proud little boots!
Ahms akimbo, stan'in' wide,
Eyes a-sayin' 'Dis is pride!'
Den de manny-baby stride!
You little boots.
Somehow, you don' seem so gay,
Po' little boots,
Sence yo' ownah went erway,
Po' little boots!
Yo' bright tops don' look so red,
Dese brass tips is dull an' dead;
'Goo'-by,' whut de baby said;
Deah little boots!
Ain't you kin' o' sad yo'se'f,
You little boots?
Dis is all his mammy's lef',
Two little boots.
Sence huh baby gone an' died,
Heav'n itse'f hit seem to hide
Des a little bit inside
Two little boots.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Element of wind
Wind blows softly and gental.
It makes us free and feel heaven
wind is our source of life.
The way of life we live in.
wind is our first element of earth and universe.
wind cann't be seen it can only be feel
by your sence.
with out wind there is nothing or anything living.
poem by Andres Gonzalez
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The Marching Band
Marching at the football game
Gives me a sence of a unique fame
Peeking for the drummajors beat
Keeps us bound like an elite
Increasing the hours of our drill
Does not make us yearn to thrill
Spending time with the band
Makes the hot days seem grand.
poem by Brie Carter
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Funney wow
Todays
All are like
And love...
Do...
The sex...
But...
Don't want
Sex at poems...
And stores...
haaa haaa
Life is part of sex...
With out sex...
How you...Born...?
Your and my father
Mother also bron...?
Sex thinking is
One of sence...
Taste...
Of life...
On the road
waching women and men...
With sexy...
At cinema+t.v. always
With tomuch...
Bringing the sex...
Thats all ok...
Or good...
Sex writing is
Bad...? ? ?
Wow funney...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The stress.
All the stress is gone
Now all I have is the anger
All the anger from her
The same anger that comes everyday
All the pain
All the fighting
All the annoyance
Basicly everything but fun
Can't live this way
Sence she wont stop
Then theres only 2 ways to stop it all
So hopefuly for them I will have to say...
Theres gonna be a tomorrow
poem by Silent For Ever More
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Killing a Friend
I lost a fellow friend
To my own stupidity
A mistake I may not be able to mend
She has all my sympathy
Deserve this, she did not
Need this, she did not
All was going well
Till my common sence fell
All was going well
The guilt begins to swell
The pain I bring
Gave her heart more than a sting
In all reality
What I did was murder
In all reality
I might as well have killed her
poem by Brie Carter
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Portrat
I am whispering in your ear
But Is it to quite,
You cannot hear.
When you feel love
Do you think of me
When I am not here
The memories, Ah so sweet
Held inside of me
Everyday I display
A portrat of you
Bleneded, words thoughts and images
Some may say
'It seems strange'
Words that are never spoken
Sparks an awaking in me
A sentiment of a ripening friendship.
And I carry all of these weighing feelings
With a sence of filling pride.
The hues your life
Color my colorless
Countenance.
poem by Howard Johnson
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On A Watch Made By A Blacksmith
A Vulcan and a Venus seldom part.
A blacksmith never us'd to filinge art
Beyond a lock and key, for Venus' sake
Hath cut a watch soe small that sence will ake
In searching every wire, and subtile sphere
Which his industrious skill hath order'd theire:
It scarce outswells a nut, and is soe light
A Ladies eare might well indure the weight.
Twas for a Mistrisse: pitty not his owne,
And yet not pitty when her worth is knowne,
Or els his love that ownes her: Either's name
Is carv'd within the plates: the witty frame
Hath made their letters kiss for them, while they
Have like the watch one pulse, one sympathy.
poem by William Strode
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I miss you!
i miss you,
i miss your smile,
i miss you,
i miss how for me - you'de go the extra mile,
i miss you,
i miss your sence of humor,
i miss you,
how you'de be so nice,
i miss you,
i miss you being my sis,
and i repay you with this
poem by Allie Nicole
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Cana
What can I tell you that you don't know
that will make you tremble again?
Forsythia
by the roadside, by
wet rocks, on the embankments
underplanted with hyacinth --
For ten years I was happy.
You were there; in a sence,
you were always with me, the house, the garden
constrantly lit,
not with lights as we have in the sky
but with those emblems of light
which are more powerful, being
implicitly some earthly
thing transformed --
And all of it vanished,
reabsorbed into impassive process. Then
what will we see by,
now that the yellow torches have become
green branches?
poem by Louise Gluck
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