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 Post subject: "BAD LOVE" Poem
PostPosted: Fri Apr 28, 2006 11:00 am 
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Bad Love
By Tushka H.

Our score three years before, you know we were something for or out of folklore. We explored the sea shore to sea floor trying to see more. I wanted her love ever since it was something that we swore. Just her and me in the Cutlass Supreme trying to think and scheme of a beautiful dream. Me pleasing her things and getting her out of them jeans. I’d ease, she’d squeeze, we became a team. Two individuals being indivisible, invincible, invisible. Something so beautiful, so sensible and plentiful. I loved being spent in you and before it was thru, I told it true to you.
So I made a confession. There had always been and intense affection rising out of friendship or personal connection. The sensation of attraction was resulting from a section of sexual tension. This natural protection an invention or exception by a spectrum from another dimension. As a person, I had no objection to its sensual pension.
This way was all hectic. I tried out my best trick and she didn’t suspect it. I half-way expected that I really wrecked it, but we became connected so go ‘head and check it. They say I’m eccentric. I think I’m eclectic. We’re bio-electric and something magnetic. I know that she felt it. I know that I felt it. So much I just melted
Maybe I took it for granted, or didn’t know what I was handed with the woman I just landed, but damn it. She damn sure had it, so much I couldn’t stand it. When she came near, it expanded. We’d do it sideways or slanted. Ever since that first kiss was planted we made a flame and then fanned it. I couldn’t understand it and I never planned it, but this bit too when rancid.
The pain and strain is the same as yesterdays. I can’t stray from the way so I’ll say what I’ve got to say. Don’t turn away ‘cause this brain will not restrain from shutting you out in the rain. You think I’m afraid? I’ll tell you, OK? I’m a not with a fray. I’ll tell you straight. The sex was great. Every time the same, day after day. And when we got laid, we’d take a nap and awake feeling the same. This feeling’s not fake, there’s no way to mistake, so give me a break. Yeah, she broke me off in her way.
This statistical aberration from a nation complaining in frustration came and when away when the laceration caused the blood I was tastin’. Her mouth like a mandible pinching the intangible. I just couldn’t handle the bull. I couldn’t gamble this handsome tool even if she had some pull over this damnedest fool with a ransom jewel or random screw.
She thought she could get me swiftly like she was nifty thrifty, but her shifty fifty-fifty wouldn’t lift me. It was trippy. I guess it was my fate to escape this scrape. My mistake was going forward and never straight. I just hate that it’s too late to say those great things I used to say. Now it’s too late.
She was dirty. Yeah you heard me. She didn’t deserve me. When she served heat she’d desert me. My heart felt the worst beat. And here I was worried? sh--!
I said so long. She was so wrong, so just go on while I float on by you with my coat on. Now I’m so calm.
I thought I was cuckoo, she thought I was a fruit loop. She had me jumpin’ through hoops in a blue suit. She thought she was too cute for me to boot her in her poopoo, but I blew through her like a cool dude with nothing to do.
Throughout my history, I loved a good mystery and even though it would blister me, I would fight with fist or feet. But she made me all jittery. So much that it hindered and embittered me. That’s just how it feels to me.
How desperate. How crazed the taint, like the separate, special with their paint. So much pain it would make you faint. I may have it made by the way of the saint. I don’t know, maybe I’m just bitchin’, but I’m still flinchin’ since my scars are still itchin’ like they need a new stitchin’. I need to be enrichened, but my heart is still wrenchin’, and I feel wretched because my limits have been stretchin’.
I didn’t feel complete, but I was compelled to succeed, yet doomed to repeat. I tried to be discrete, but I was knee deep in a dung heap from some dumb sheep. I couldn’t do this then, now or later, snappin’ at each other like alligators or Luke and Darth Vader with red and blue sabers. Clashing like titans or too many flavors. Like the 49ers and the Raiders or the city and nature with claws like razors versus mayors with papers.
But now my heart is all scattered, ripped and in tatters. I couldn’t be sadder, so what does it matter? I need a new ladder to get back to Saturn. I’ve seen this before. Is this a pattern?
Excuse me if it pleases, I’ve been sighing like the breeze is. It’s steady then ceases. Wherever the peace is, that’s where you’ll see this masterful genius putting together the pieces. Here I was screamin’ for Jesus. “Didn’t you see us and couldn’t you free us?” I could sense the fear in us. We became delirious. We weren’t near enough to the clearing dust to be getting so damn serious. It wasn’t a question of where, but of when we bust.
I don’t think we were ready, quite so to go steady. Don’t get ahead of me, but how much you wanna bet me that she would’ve left me for a lefty. He’d pick her up in his Bentley and lift her up gently to dine her in Berkley. He’ll get down on a bent knee and show her his best ring. So happy she’ll just sing. She’s happily adjusting. I think it’s disgusting.
There was a day when I was controlled by mayhem. I tried to save them while patiently waitin’ for a payment. I have only one statement. I was dreaming, but now I’m awakened.


THE END

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PostPosted: Fri Apr 28, 2006 11:03 am 
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"I'm a not with a fray" = "I'm a knot with a fray" Damn, I thought I got rid of all the typos. Oh well.

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 Post subject: Re: "BAD LOVE" Poem
PostPosted: Mon Aug 07, 2006 5:02 am 
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Tushkahill wrote:
Bad Love
By Tushka H.

Our score three years before, you know we were something for or out of folklore. We explored the sea shore to sea floor trying to see more. I wanted her love ever since it was something that we swore. Just her and me in the Cutlass Supreme trying to think and scheme of a beautiful dream. Me pleasing her things and getting her out of them jeans. I’d ease, she’d squeeze, we became a team. Two individuals being indivisible, invincible, invisible. Something so beautiful, so sensible and plentiful. I loved being spent in you and before it was thru, I told it true to you.
So I made a confession. There had always been and intense affection rising out of friendship or personal connection. The sensation of attraction was resulting from a section of sexual tension. This natural protection an invention or exception by a spectrum from another dimension. As a person, I had no objection to its sensual pension.
This way was all hectic. I tried out my best trick and she didn’t suspect it. I half-way expected that I really wrecked it, but we became connected so go ‘head and check it. They say I’m eccentric. I think I’m eclectic. We’re bio-electric and something magnetic. I know that she felt it. I know that I felt it. So much I just melted
Maybe I took it for granted, or didn’t know what I was handed with the woman I just landed, but damn it. She damn sure had it, so much I couldn’t stand it. When she came near, it expanded. We’d do it sideways or slanted. Ever since that first kiss was planted we made a flame and then fanned it. I couldn’t understand it and I never planned it, but this bit too when rancid.
The pain and strain is the same as yesterdays. I can’t stray from the way so I’ll say what I’ve got to say. Don’t turn away ‘cause this brain will not restrain from shutting you out in the rain. You think I’m afraid? I’ll tell you, OK? I’m a not with a fray. I’ll tell you straight. The sex was great. Every time the same, day after day. And when we got laid, we’d take a nap and awake feeling the same. This feeling’s not fake, there’s no way to mistake, so give me a break. Yeah, she broke me off in her way.
This statistical aberration from a nation complaining in frustration came and when away when the laceration caused the blood I was tastin’. Her mouth like a mandible pinching the intangible. I just couldn’t handle the bull. I couldn’t gamble this handsome tool even if she had some pull over this damnedest fool with a ransom jewel or random screw.
She thought she could get me swiftly like she was nifty thrifty, but her shifty fifty-fifty wouldn’t lift me. It was trippy. I guess it was my fate to escape this scrape. My mistake was going forward and never straight. I just hate that it’s too late to say those great things I used to say. Now it’s too late.
She was dirty. Yeah you heard me. She didn’t deserve me. When she served heat she’d desert me. My heart felt the worst beat. And here I was worried? sh--!
I said so long. She was so wrong, so just go on while I float on by you with my coat on. Now I’m so calm.
I thought I was cuckoo, she thought I was a fruit loop. She had me jumpin’ through hoops in a blue suit. She thought she was too cute for me to boot her in her poopoo, but I blew through her like a cool dude with nothing to do.
Throughout my history, I loved a good mystery and even though it would blister me, I would fight with fist or feet. But she made me all jittery. So much that it hindered and embittered me. That’s just how it feels to me.
How desperate. How crazed the taint, like the separate, special with their paint. So much pain it would make you faint. I may have it made by the way of the saint. I don’t know, maybe I’m just bitchin’, but I’m still flinchin’ since my scars are still itchin’ like they need a new stitchin’. I need to be enrichened, but my heart is still wrenchin’, and I feel wretched because my limits have been stretchin’.
I didn’t feel complete, but I was compelled to succeed, yet doomed to repeat. I tried to be discrete, but I was knee deep in a dung heap from some dumb sheep. I couldn’t do this then, now or later, snappin’ at each other like alligators or Luke and Darth Vader with red and blue sabers. Clashing like titans or too many flavors. Like the 49ers and the Raiders or the city and nature with claws like razors versus mayors with papers.
But now my heart is all scattered, ripped and in tatters. I couldn’t be sadder, so what does it matter? I need a new ladder to get back to Saturn. I’ve seen this before. Is this a pattern?
Excuse me if it pleases, I’ve been sighing like the breeze is. It’s steady then ceases. Wherever the peace is, that’s where you’ll see this masterful genius putting together the pieces. Here I was screamin’ for Jesus. “Didn’t you see us and couldn’t you free us?” I could sense the fear in us. We became delirious. We weren’t near enough to the clearing dust to be getting so damn serious. It wasn’t a question of where, but of when we bust.
I don’t think we were ready, quite so to go steady. Don’t get ahead of me, but how much you wanna bet me that she would’ve left me for a lefty. He’d pick her up in his Bentley and lift her up gently to dine her in Berkley. He’ll get down on a bent knee and show her his best ring. So happy she’ll just sing. She’s happily adjusting. I think it’s disgusting.
There was a day when I was controlled by mayhem. I tried to save them while patiently waitin’ for a payment. I have only one statement. I was dreaming, but now I’m awakened.


THE END


i thought this was a poem
clearly i was mistaken,
without proper set up or formatting
my interest is yet to awaken

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PostPosted: Mon Aug 07, 2006 9:47 am 
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Well, Professor Logic, at the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.

I love the tension, Tushka.

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2006 6:22 pm 
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tom5030 wrote:
Well, Professor Logic, at the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.

I love the tension, Tushka.

ha! i think your wrong,
love is overrated
what does it matter if you loved and lost?
in the end the only poetry that come from pale lips colored in death,
is our swan song.

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2006 7:01 pm 
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You can't be serious. Love is real. Love is one of things that makes a person smile at the end of the day. Love its not overrated, it DEFINITELY matters, and in the end, the love that one has put forth can affect everyone.

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2006 7:06 pm 
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tom5030 wrote:
You can't be serious. Love is real. Love is one of things that makes a person smile at the end of the day. Love its not overrated, it DEFINITELY matters, and in the end, the love that one has put forth can affect everyone.


so does a box of money,
and that does more good.
love is just a brains obsession
over something not that great,
it makes you act like an ass
hey,sign me up for hate.

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2006 7:12 pm 
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So motivates the giving of that "box of money"?

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2006 7:16 pm 
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tom5030 wrote:
So motivates the giving of that "box of money"?


no.
the box of money does the same things you describe,
that was my point.
love is for those who dont know any better
as sediments are for the weak,
i am not interested in this love of which you speak

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2006 7:26 pm 
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Well the box didn't hand itself out. A starving child in Africa needs love. Love breaks through all HELL ON EARTH it is going through. Love makes a person give away money to people who need it more. Love draws people together. Love is all you need!

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2006 7:31 pm 
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tom5030 wrote:
Well the box didn't hand itself out. A starving child in Africa needs love. Love breaks through all HELL ON EARTH it is going through. Love makes a person give away money to people who need it more. Love draws people together. Love is all you need!


to stop my rhyming for a bit:
do you think when they give money to children in africa thay love them? dont be naive. we still have hell on earth your "love" isnt helping. despite what you may think,people are not just naturally generous, they arent. they always have another purpose, maybe for publicity or something equally as vain.
when it comes to money ,love is never involved.

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2006 7:39 pm 
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Sure, things for publicity and things equally vain happen. But, c'mon PROFESSOR, people care. Otherwise, so many good to the tsunamis, hurricanes, and africa, and middle east, and all would not have been distributed.

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2006 7:54 pm 
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tom5030 wrote:
Sure, things for publicity and things equally vain happen. But, c'mon PROFESSOR, people care. Otherwise, so many good to the tsunamis, hurricanes, and africa, and middle east, and all would not have been distributed.

PUBLICITY AND PUBLIC OPINION.

why cant you see?
your innocence to this matter baffles me.
no one cares about you,
lifes a bitch and then you die.
politians say anything in the name of public opinon
celebrites because they "care"
no matter where you look,
there is phonies everywhere

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2006 7:57 pm 
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Quote:
What is a cynic? A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.


You see no value. You don't what good things are happening. You need to raise your chin, look around to everything beautiful in this world, and smile that things are being done.

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2006 8:11 pm 
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Tushka,
I loved your poem. It was wonderful. At the beginning I thought I was going to stop reading...but then you would throw in another catch.

As for you Mr. Logic
Here's a riddle
For your knowledge
When writing a poem
No rules are known
It is a self expression
A voice without bars
conceling is not a question
And limits only give harm
To dampening its perfection
There is my whole hearted lesson

As for love
That which you do not believe of
Tis it but an illusion?
As everything else you say
Can not one thing be real?
Something so priceless
To give with no need
Need to recieve
Is there a flaw
A secret to your words
Concealed behind
A past of unpleasantries
giving birth to something
You feel cannot be faced

Sincerely,
The Mistress of Riddles

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