rows, blocks, of flats
the city
the train rushing past
and the wind blows the hair from my face
stop relax exhale inhale
pollutant and exuberant
triangulate and dislocate
from society and life
They are squares that make up my life. Blocks of time, blocks of fun, blocks of regret. I stack them in my brain like I stack cans of soup in my pantry. I categorize my feelings. Maybe too much.
I had some blocks. Here and there. Mental blocks, but mostly road blocks. Those damn road blocks.
I’m playing a game and it’s like,” You can just get a speedup, OH JUST KIDDING WE’RE GOING TO THROUGH IN A ROAD BLOCK TO RUIN EVERYTHING.”
The smoothness of them entranced me as a child. I would sit and hold them in my hand, especially the curved ones, and wonder how in the world it got to be so soft and round.
children play with blocks and writers work around them. my secret is to not look at the words on the screen. for example, right now, i’m not looking at the screen, I’m looking at the candle on my desk. it’s square, like a block, and green with a litle white wick sticking out on top and encased in glass.
Blocks is a six letter word with only one vowel. Blocks are usually associated with the traits of strength and trust. To be someone’s building block is to be their support in their dire times of need, and it also represents that you will always be there for them.
it’s been a long day, and all these are are the building blocks of time. It’s like every other relationship in a lifetime, we’re just taking the baby steps to walking again.
So will you walk a little faster alongside my heart? Will you write a little more, have a colder stance and hold me in the warmth of the night?
On and on and on.
Slipping each piece in one at a time.
Lost and lousy but amazing in stature.
These are what make the world great,
They might be signs from the sky or
They might be figments of our civilizations.
It takes blocks to reach her, so far to go. Each strip of sidewalk dotted with people who don’t care about each other. I don’t care about each other either. 15 blocks in New York is like 17 miles in Winnipeg. 15 blocks in New York is enough to get mugged 17 times, to fall in love 32 times, to hate life 678 times and to enjoy yourself once. Holden Caulfield didn’t enjoy himself really.
Blocks of watercolors are dripping suspended from the scaffolding on the corner of Huntington and Gainsborough. They are leaving unfortunate gaping holes, discolored at their edges in my umbrella.
a wholw town is made out of blocks….a whole person is made out of thoughts a whole life is made out of moments and the moment itself is made out of feeling and emotion. I want to feel that emotion…
“I couldnt write it,” she said. Sat on the stool in the back of the bar. “I stared at the page until I cried but nothing would come out.”
The guy with the hat and the beard next to her said nothing but nursed his beer.
Blocks are wooden with alphabet letters on them… at least that is unless they’re made of plastic. Like legos! Legos are pretty fun as long as you can actually build something out of them. My boyfriend’s brother is really good at making amazing things out of Legos… where as I can only make a shit-ass house. Oh well… I guess it’s an acquired skill that I just don’t have. :P
and cubes, empty spaces taken up by things that once didn’t take up space at all. these things are cold and straight and lend the mind and empty open place never to get lost but to be boxed in. to build or construct to deteriorate or destroy they will always be there and always stacking one on top of another until the final day when there will be no more!
I used to play with blocks when I was little. I’d build castles for my barbie dolls.
I find it funny that these toys seem to be lost nowadays. They’re more fun to play with than other things.
When I was a child I love to play with blocks. They help build a strong imagination for children. Parents don’t know it but kids create more than just wooden figures.
“Put away your blocks! I’m tripping over this mess.” Raged Marta. Startled, Charlie stared. He looked around the world he’d created. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was his. It was almost complete, yet always ready to receive his changes. There was room for her. Smiling, he constructed a clearing. If she wanted, she could even create her own world, over there, on his left. Angerly, Marta grabbed a block & shoved it into the storage. 40 years later, Charlie remembered this. His gift, timelessness, refused.
She placed the blocks one on top of the other hoping that it wouldn’t tumble to the ground. Every breath she took was exagerated. Slowly her breath moved in and out of her. Please don’t fall. Please don’t fall, she thought.
The building blocks of life fall apart as time moves forward. The blocks of life don’t fit neatly together like the lego blocks I had as a child did. Why isn’t everything perfect like Lego? Instead of like Janga blocks that are doomed to fall over? Imperfect blocks are a fact of life.
One time when i was younger I went to my friend Joshua’s hosue, and he had all types of different blocks and they were different shapes and sizes. They were more blocks than I had ever seen, and there were tons of blocks on tons of shelves. I didn’t like Joshua as much because he liked me, and he was really forceful. And I was little, too, so I didn’t know how to react. And I wanted to play those blocks, but he made me leave.
Before then, I had never loved blocks or wanted to play with them as much.
Blcoks of blue and yellow, green and gold. The long line of Church Street in Burlington, Vermont catches my eye as I walk down Main Street. Four or so blocks of pure happiness and unique people, stores, food. Life couldn’t be better.
blocks, I used to play with those when I was a kid. I would stack them, they’d fall. I’d trip over them, just my knee, cry. Fucking blocks, I was told they were meant for boys. Boys can stack them and make them into houses. Now I just realize that I will never be a mechanical engineer. I read books instead and now I’m a political science major, fuck blocks.
I used to play with building blocks every once in a while. I had some when I was really young but didn’t play with them much, they eventually got boring. I moved onto Legos and Bionicles later on in life, I guess I took a liking for the more complex. Creating physical things is always something I enjoy. Creating in general is something I adore.
My hands become
blocks of ice
when I can feel these things near,
I just wish
to get out of the freezer.
I used to play with block a lot when I was a kid. Yellow, red and green. I’d make houses, vehicles and weapons. Blocks of mass destruction.
rows, blocks, of flats
the city
the train rushing past
and the wind blows the hair from my face
stop relax exhale inhale
pollutant and exuberant
triangulate and dislocate
from society and life
They are squares that make up my life. Blocks of time, blocks of fun, blocks of regret. I stack them in my brain like I stack cans of soup in my pantry. I categorize my feelings. Maybe too much.
I had some blocks. Here and there. Mental blocks, but mostly road blocks. Those damn road blocks.
I’m playing a game and it’s like,” You can just get a speedup, OH JUST KIDDING WE’RE GOING TO THROUGH IN A ROAD BLOCK TO RUIN EVERYTHING.”
The smoothness of them entranced me as a child. I would sit and hold them in my hand, especially the curved ones, and wonder how in the world it got to be so soft and round.
children play with blocks and writers work around them. my secret is to not look at the words on the screen. for example, right now, i’m not looking at the screen, I’m looking at the candle on my desk. it’s square, like a block, and green with a litle white wick sticking out on top and encased in glass.
blocks are to build with. The world consists of building blocks. Photons. Light. Everything is light. Realise this. You are enlightenment.
Blocks is a six letter word with only one vowel. Blocks are usually associated with the traits of strength and trust. To be someone’s building block is to be their support in their dire times of need, and it also represents that you will always be there for them.
You use blocks to build things. Buildings are strong in support. Being a support is like being a block, being solid and willing to help anyone.
blue
Blocks are everywhere…building blocks, road block, stumbling blocks.It just depends on how you user them to progress or falter.
it’s been a long day, and all these are are the building blocks of time. It’s like every other relationship in a lifetime, we’re just taking the baby steps to walking again.
So will you walk a little faster alongside my heart? Will you write a little more, have a colder stance and hold me in the warmth of the night?
On and on and on.
Slipping each piece in one at a time.
Lost and lousy but amazing in stature.
These are what make the world great,
They might be signs from the sky or
They might be figments of our civilizations.
They are the the ideas in which civilizations are built. Piece by piece, one by one until some amazing things are standing in the face of adversity.
grey walls. incandescent screen. i’ve been here for too long. we’ve all been here too long. coffee & kiss-uping. glares on the glass ceiling.
It takes blocks to reach her, so far to go. Each strip of sidewalk dotted with people who don’t care about each other. I don’t care about each other either. 15 blocks in New York is like 17 miles in Winnipeg. 15 blocks in New York is enough to get mugged 17 times, to fall in love 32 times, to hate life 678 times and to enjoy yourself once. Holden Caulfield didn’t enjoy himself really.
Blocks of watercolors are dripping suspended from the scaffolding on the corner of Huntington and Gainsborough. They are leaving unfortunate gaping holes, discolored at their edges in my umbrella.
a wholw town is made out of blocks….a whole person is made out of thoughts a whole life is made out of moments and the moment itself is made out of feeling and emotion. I want to feel that emotion…
“I couldnt write it,” she said. Sat on the stool in the back of the bar. “I stared at the page until I cried but nothing would come out.”
The guy with the hat and the beard next to her said nothing but nursed his beer.
Blocks are wooden with alphabet letters on them… at least that is unless they’re made of plastic. Like legos! Legos are pretty fun as long as you can actually build something out of them. My boyfriend’s brother is really good at making amazing things out of Legos… where as I can only make a shit-ass house. Oh well… I guess it’s an acquired skill that I just don’t have. :P
and cubes, empty spaces taken up by things that once didn’t take up space at all. these things are cold and straight and lend the mind and empty open place never to get lost but to be boxed in. to build or construct to deteriorate or destroy they will always be there and always stacking one on top of another until the final day when there will be no more!
I used to play with blocks when I was little. I’d build castles for my barbie dolls.
I find it funny that these toys seem to be lost nowadays. They’re more fun to play with than other things.
When I was a child I love to play with blocks. They help build a strong imagination for children. Parents don’t know it but kids create more than just wooden figures.
Blocks are an important aspect of society, you can have blocks of information, blocks of time that you set to specific tasks, or even building blocks.
Without blocks we would not be in the world we are in today!.
“Put away your blocks! I’m tripping over this mess.” Raged Marta. Startled, Charlie stared. He looked around the world he’d created. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was his. It was almost complete, yet always ready to receive his changes. There was room for her. Smiling, he constructed a clearing. If she wanted, she could even create her own world, over there, on his left. Angerly, Marta grabbed a block & shoved it into the storage. 40 years later, Charlie remembered this. His gift, timelessness, refused.
She placed the blocks one on top of the other hoping that it wouldn’t tumble to the ground. Every breath she took was exagerated. Slowly her breath moved in and out of her. Please don’t fall. Please don’t fall, she thought.
The building blocks of life fall apart as time moves forward. The blocks of life don’t fit neatly together like the lego blocks I had as a child did. Why isn’t everything perfect like Lego? Instead of like Janga blocks that are doomed to fall over? Imperfect blocks are a fact of life.
One time when i was younger I went to my friend Joshua’s hosue, and he had all types of different blocks and they were different shapes and sizes. They were more blocks than I had ever seen, and there were tons of blocks on tons of shelves. I didn’t like Joshua as much because he liked me, and he was really forceful. And I was little, too, so I didn’t know how to react. And I wanted to play those blocks, but he made me leave.
Before then, I had never loved blocks or wanted to play with them as much.
Blcoks of blue and yellow, green and gold. The long line of Church Street in Burlington, Vermont catches my eye as I walk down Main Street. Four or so blocks of pure happiness and unique people, stores, food. Life couldn’t be better.
rigid,square
blocks, I used to play with those when I was a kid. I would stack them, they’d fall. I’d trip over them, just my knee, cry. Fucking blocks, I was told they were meant for boys. Boys can stack them and make them into houses. Now I just realize that I will never be a mechanical engineer. I read books instead and now I’m a political science major, fuck blocks.
I used to play with building blocks every once in a while. I had some when I was really young but didn’t play with them much, they eventually got boring. I moved onto Legos and Bionicles later on in life, I guess I took a liking for the more complex. Creating physical things is always something I enjoy. Creating in general is something I adore.
Blocks of stone are falling on me, the hurt me tough, and all my blood get out of my veins, and I died.