I was stanfing on the ground. Nowhere could I see sky. I was so terrified that I had lost all my companions. That was an disheartening thought. All was in vain.
The ground is rushing up to meet him before he can even think to scream or flail for a hand hold, no way to catch himself and what the fuck had possessed him to go up to the second floor of Derek’s stupid old house anyway?! Before he can do so much as choke out a startled squeak, though, a strong arm is wrapping around his waist and cutting off his plummet.
Jackson plunged her naked feet into the earth. As deep as they would go. She waited until Nana kissed the littlest toe on her left foot. It took longer than last time. She wondered why.
Bound to the gound, the shackles held a missing prisoner. He was a husband, father, brother, mentor, and man of God. He could run for years through the forest of the island. After being captured by the German Navy, what else could he expect?
Janice’s feet barely touched the ground. In this neighbourhood battleground it was difficult to score any sort of a victory, but Vilma’s sudden fall from grace was like winning a long and bloody war. Janice was giddy with elation. She shuffled into her finest spring dress and trotted down the garden path, hoping her beaming face would meet with Lorna and Mrs Francis so that they might pour over, in very fine detail, the evil doings of Mrs Politis and her lover Luke Ricketts.
The ground welled up around my feet and I felt myself falling. Quicksand? Hell on Earth? Who knows? All I knew was I was being eaten by the ground. Eaten by the motherfucking ground.
It was probably always going to end up like it, I guess. Awful circumstances I get myself in.
I found it on the ground. The silvery shape, tainted, and scratched. It seemed like a worthless trinket, but it turned out to be one of Marie Antoinette’s old pendants. What a find! I couldn’t believe I found something so valuable in my back yard.
I looked down. The ground was covered in snow just a second ago. Where was it now? Now all I saw was a pale green as dry as sand. My eyes closed as the ground rose up to meet me.
Underneath deep within the ground is where I buried my feelings for you! I will never dig you up your memories are dead within! Get beneathe me and stay there you were never good for me!
I hit the ground running this semester. No time for friends, no time for a break. I can bearly find enough time in the day to study, much less to find sleep. I can’t wait until the end of the semester, when I can finally find a moment to breath.
I’ve never really thought about it in a grand sense. It’s always been there, lying beneath me. Every step I have taken thus far, it was with me. Today, it’s different. As life has cheated me out of what I wanted, and as I jumped from the ledge, the ground and I will have a new relationship.
Stuck.
Buried deep,
Miles beneath their words
They tripped me,
Stuck out their foot
As I passed
Just like they always do.
But this time
I stayed on the ground,
My cheek pressed to the fuzzy blue carpet.
The ground was covered with color
While the sky has fallen ill and grey.
The sun is hidden behind layers of disgust
Only to leave it’s sunlight on the ground
In the shape of the leaves from the trees.
The ground is hard and firm and a place that i love to walk on but not bare foot. The ground is dirt, soil, and rock. I have fallen on the hard rocky ground many times.
That girl over there got knocked to the ground while playing tether ball. He does not know how to make the ground level. Somehow I will find a way to stay a few inches above the ground level today
ground.
i’ve fallen on the ground.
i can’t pick myself up.
i’m losing myself as i trample on and on.
how do you get up?
to move on?
to go on like everything never happened?
have fun without me
while i’m stuck on the ground
unable to move
while you be happy
while i wither and die.
Like paper in wind my thoughts float around,
So easily I get lost in my head,
Yet you come bring me back to the ground,
Within your arms I shall always be found.
Ground. It’s beneath us. All the time. Never are we off the ground. (Unless you’re on an aircraft of some sort.) How is someone groundED? What makes them so? By the simple fact that we stand on earth, we are all grounded. Yet some people are considered more “grounded” than others. Are their feet more firmly planted on the ground? Are they nearer to the floor? What is it? And who decided on these ridiculous definitions for this simple word?
There had come to be a deep sense of abandon within him. He could not describe the nature of it, he said it felt like ng to life for, because everything he wanted out of life was already with someone else. He said, he felt that way, but he knew it wasn’t true and that he could have everything he wanted. Yet the feeling existed. This conflict was eating away his being, day after day he felt he just wanted to sleep all the time, so he could dream a world where he was more ambitious. Slowly pieces of his life fell apart, he saw it happening from a distant place in his mind, where he almost felt happy about it.
He hoped he would die soon, this waste of a man that he called himself, so he could free others of him. His shrink said he behaved like a drug addict, except that he didn’t do any drugs. He knew his drug was his dreams, his hate of reality, he wanted to escape from existence. But how? Was 6 feet under the place to be for him?
No, it wasn’t. Others believed he would one day raise monuments from the ground. None realized though, how he would translate his dreams into grounded reality. He knew was meant to be an architect, not in the way that it was his destiny, but in the way a person who mimics others is a good it, good at being someone else, but he can never be an actor because he depends on others for the traits he produces, originality does not lie within him, he will always be a mimic. Likewise, he could try writing or something else, but he could only survive as an architect.
Do I really want to be ground up and put on a compost pile when I die, or am I just saying that? Being buried under a rhododendron in the forest is less violent, and the rootlets would do the same, ultimately, as blades.
Ground zero. Again. Eleven years as in nine-eleven, Staten Island is hit again. Last time it was the firefighters from there, the first, and how could that be? To respond. They have to go over a bridge, through Brooklyn
Ground. I don’t know anything to say about ground. This website should be in Dutch. Because ground is an English term and I am Dutch. But this makes no sense. I don’t get the idea of this website. Is it about therapy?
I was stanfing on the ground. Nowhere could I see sky. I was so terrified that I had lost all my companions. That was an disheartening thought. All was in vain.
The ground is rushing up to meet him before he can even think to scream or flail for a hand hold, no way to catch himself and what the fuck had possessed him to go up to the second floor of Derek’s stupid old house anyway?! Before he can do so much as choke out a startled squeak, though, a strong arm is wrapping around his waist and cutting off his plummet.
Jackson plunged her naked feet into the earth. As deep as they would go. She waited until Nana kissed the littlest toe on her left foot. It took longer than last time. She wondered why.
Bound to the gound, the shackles held a missing prisoner. He was a husband, father, brother, mentor, and man of God. He could run for years through the forest of the island. After being captured by the German Navy, what else could he expect?
Janice’s feet barely touched the ground. In this neighbourhood battleground it was difficult to score any sort of a victory, but Vilma’s sudden fall from grace was like winning a long and bloody war. Janice was giddy with elation. She shuffled into her finest spring dress and trotted down the garden path, hoping her beaming face would meet with Lorna and Mrs Francis so that they might pour over, in very fine detail, the evil doings of Mrs Politis and her lover Luke Ricketts.
The ground welled up around my feet and I felt myself falling. Quicksand? Hell on Earth? Who knows? All I knew was I was being eaten by the ground. Eaten by the motherfucking ground.
It was probably always going to end up like it, I guess. Awful circumstances I get myself in.
I found it on the ground. The silvery shape, tainted, and scratched. It seemed like a worthless trinket, but it turned out to be one of Marie Antoinette’s old pendants. What a find! I couldn’t believe I found something so valuable in my back yard.
I looked down. The ground was covered in snow just a second ago. Where was it now? Now all I saw was a pale green as dry as sand. My eyes closed as the ground rose up to meet me.
The ground is where we all stare.
I see the ground and think of you and i cry.
the ground is where we crawl and walk on.
the ground is always there.
As I hit the ground, I saw him at the gates. A black density engulfed me and it was gone. I knew right then, I had died and gone to hell.
Underneath deep within the ground is where I buried my feelings for you! I will never dig you up your memories are dead within! Get beneathe me and stay there you were never good for me!
You’re lightning –
You are electrifying,
And my feet are on the ground.
I hit the ground running this semester. No time for friends, no time for a break. I can bearly find enough time in the day to study, much less to find sleep. I can’t wait until the end of the semester, when I can finally find a moment to breath.
I
She groveled on the ground with gross gusto.
Dirt. Something you walk on.
I’ve never really thought about it in a grand sense. It’s always been there, lying beneath me. Every step I have taken thus far, it was with me. Today, it’s different. As life has cheated me out of what I wanted, and as I jumped from the ledge, the ground and I will have a new relationship.
Stuck.
Buried deep,
Miles beneath their words
They tripped me,
Stuck out their foot
As I passed
Just like they always do.
But this time
I stayed on the ground,
My cheek pressed to the fuzzy blue carpet.
What did I ever do to them?
The ground was covered with color
While the sky has fallen ill and grey.
The sun is hidden behind layers of disgust
Only to leave it’s sunlight on the ground
In the shape of the leaves from the trees.
I like to lie on the ground, especially when there is carpet.
The helecopter hit the ground at 100 mph and desintegrated into a huge ball of fire!!!
when i punched cash in the face and he fell to the ground. :)
i walked over to cash and punched him in the face and he fell on the ground so i had every one come over and kick him in the face
Dale hit the ground running when he saw me with my gun. I said get off my land or I will kill you.
The ground is hard and firm and a place that i love to walk on but not bare foot. The ground is dirt, soil, and rock. I have fallen on the hard rocky ground many times.
That girl over there got knocked to the ground while playing tether ball. He does not know how to make the ground level. Somehow I will find a way to stay a few inches above the ground level today
mom told me to put it up i put it on the ground insted
We need to gain some ground. The ground is hard. We need to buy ground beef.
my face hit the ground when i fell.
my teacher said to glue my feet to the ground.
i sit on the ground when i watch movies.
the bird flew until it hit the ground.
the ground was hard as a rock
sometimes you can ground corn or some type of other food
ground food
grounding someone else
grounded by parents
:)
i threw cash to the ground… when i punched ash in the face he fell to the ground… :)
the ground was muddy from the rain
the cold water sat in the grounds mudholes
the ground was compacted from all the walking on it
ground.
i’ve fallen on the ground.
i can’t pick myself up.
i’m losing myself as i trample on and on.
how do you get up?
to move on?
to go on like everything never happened?
have fun without me
while i’m stuck on the ground
unable to move
while you be happy
while i wither and die.
Like paper in wind my thoughts float around,
So easily I get lost in my head,
Yet you come bring me back to the ground,
Within your arms I shall always be found.
Ground. It’s beneath us. All the time. Never are we off the ground. (Unless you’re on an aircraft of some sort.) How is someone groundED? What makes them so? By the simple fact that we stand on earth, we are all grounded. Yet some people are considered more “grounded” than others. Are their feet more firmly planted on the ground? Are they nearer to the floor? What is it? And who decided on these ridiculous definitions for this simple word?
There had come to be a deep sense of abandon within him. He could not describe the nature of it, he said it felt like ng to life for, because everything he wanted out of life was already with someone else. He said, he felt that way, but he knew it wasn’t true and that he could have everything he wanted. Yet the feeling existed. This conflict was eating away his being, day after day he felt he just wanted to sleep all the time, so he could dream a world where he was more ambitious. Slowly pieces of his life fell apart, he saw it happening from a distant place in his mind, where he almost felt happy about it.
He hoped he would die soon, this waste of a man that he called himself, so he could free others of him. His shrink said he behaved like a drug addict, except that he didn’t do any drugs. He knew his drug was his dreams, his hate of reality, he wanted to escape from existence. But how? Was 6 feet under the place to be for him?
No, it wasn’t. Others believed he would one day raise monuments from the ground. None realized though, how he would translate his dreams into grounded reality. He knew was meant to be an architect, not in the way that it was his destiny, but in the way a person who mimics others is a good it, good at being someone else, but he can never be an actor because he depends on others for the traits he produces, originality does not lie within him, he will always be a mimic. Likewise, he could try writing or something else, but he could only survive as an architect.
Do I really want to be ground up and put on a compost pile when I die, or am I just saying that? Being buried under a rhododendron in the forest is less violent, and the rootlets would do the same, ultimately, as blades.
Ground zero. Again. Eleven years as in nine-eleven, Staten Island is hit again. Last time it was the firefighters from there, the first, and how could that be? To respond. They have to go over a bridge, through Brooklyn
Ground. I don’t know anything to say about ground. This website should be in Dutch. Because ground is an English term and I am Dutch. But this makes no sense. I don’t get the idea of this website. Is it about therapy?