“That’s how all of Jeremy’s pajamas were: striped. Not spotted, not flannel, striped. Any color, but always with bands running up and down his body. He tried to take them off, but the stripes were like bands, hard and firm. They imprisoned poor Jeremy, and he died, wearing the striped.pajamas.”
Striped. His body covered in red. Thorns. He stands, facing greater pain. But he stands. He is striped. Blood. He suffers. He has stripes. He suffers. For you he bears the stripes.
A back. Striped. Red. Blood. He stands, the pain great. But he stands anyway. Striped. He is covered. About to suffer greater pain. Thorns. Lashes. Blood. He is striped. For you.
They cut three broad striped from their backs and rubbed salt in the wounds if they could not make the princess laugh. But, o how they tried. Humans have always been willing sacrifice great pain and humiliation for the promise of sex. But, alas, the princess would only laugh at one very specific thing, as all dour fairy tale princesses do: there is a magical animal that makes everyone stick to it in a long chain. That is the only hope.
The polka dotted table was covered with a polka dotted tablecloth. On it stood polka dotted glasses holding a polka dotted flower. I looked at my polka dotted watch to check that I wasn’t being blown off. But in he walked- striped shirt and all.
Striped? No one liked stripes anymore.
“Why are you wearing stripes, Lily?” I asked, “No one likes stripes.”
She snorts. “I don’t wear my clothes for other people. I wear it because it’s what I like and want to wear.”
I shake my head.
She was wearing a yellow and black striped blouse, making her look somewhat like a bumblebee. I didn’t want to tell her this, so instead I looked out of the window next to me while someone hollered, “Nice shirt!” at her. Poor girl.
she is on a boat and i don’t know when she’ll get off. it makes me dizzy, the bobbing of the boat and the sun glinting off the lake. I don’t know we chose to go on this old wooden thing. She said it made her think of the Philadelphia story and the word yar and knowing that there would be freedom. I don’t think she realizes what she is talking about.
“Honestly how can you simply have a striped nail, when you have a striped shirt. I mean come on how does that even happen? Shirts are many different colors and nails are only one.”
The flag waved up high above him. It was a stupid joke. “Just boys being boys,” said the headmaster when he protested the treatment. “Nothing bad will happen.”
Only something bad did happen. Jake can feel his toes or his knees or even his fingers. He’s staring up at the flag and the flagpole watching, but not quite seeing. He can just make out the sounds of the other, older and bigger, boys starting to speak.
“Is he…?”
“Did we…?”
Shuffling bodies and stomping feet. Discomfort flitted through the group and the Jake on the ground.
“…should just leave!”
Then a voice, louder and horror-struck. “Look at his neck!”
Cries of terror and revulsion follow this pronouncement. The boys scatter in a small storm of of heavy feet.
All the while Jake stares up at the striped flag fluttering in the early morning wind until he can stare no more. His eyes are wide, mouth is half open and he doesn’t try to move.
There it was , the striped zebra that had escaped from the zoo.Well, not exactly escaped.It was a conscious decision, not an accident to sat the herd free.They were wild animals , not to be penned in like apples in a plastic bag.
the flag that ties a country together. it’s a country of fuck yeah. it is america.. striped is also prison clothes and sometime bath wear. also the french.
Frayed folds of skin curling in the sun. Red puddles on the ground dripping down from the striped man at the pillar. Being forced from our earthly vessels is a painful process.
Like a skunk, she stunk up the room. Her beautiful dress marred by her arrogance. Her seemingly gracious words striped with false modesty was worse of all.
The strangest thing happened the other day. I was at the hospital dropping off some clothes for my mother and this young girl bumped in to me. I could tell she was very nervous, her hands were shaking and her shoulders hunched. I asked her if everything was all right and she mumbled no and ran off. I tried to chase her to make sure she was ok, but when I rounded the corner she was gone. As if she had never been there in the first place.
She ran down the stairs in her striped pyjamas. It was understandable since it was only midnight. Normally she wouldn’t be awake but she heard a strange noise and her curiosity got the better of her. She heard the strange clicking noise get louder and faster as she crept down the stairs. What was that noise?
stripped naked
to this room
to all the eyes
encompassing my shame
and all of my unknown fear
i am here
but how here am i?
Honestly
i fear so much
yet in my skin
at this moment
i feel i will never actually
be comfortable
i will never be home
home is stripped
of me
and all my insecurity
With cruel accuracy the whips lashed, striking the kneeling man across his back. He just lay there and took it, helpless in his complete serenity. Strike after strike he took, until he couldn’t feel a thing.
The man lay, cold nothing but a rag on, he had nothing. Demons had taken it all from him, his child his wife his riches Job cried out in terrible agony. His very skin was falling off, nothing was left. Nothing but God.
He tiptoed down the stairs in his striped pajamas. He had heard a noise from his room. His mom thought he was sleeping, but he was just too excited, so when he heard the noise he decided to investigate. He silently poked his head over the stair railing to see who was in the living room, but when he saw his mom his mouth dropped open and his eyes opened wide. She was putting presents under the tree, a cookie popped in her mouth. That cookie was for Santa! What was she doing?
Two colours fly across my back and chest; they cross vertically and horizontally. It is my only style, and I don’t know how to change it. I am two people, but I’m only, honestly, one.
pajamas, and the smell of chestnuts, a boy in his element, but what kind of way was he going. Only the boy has his own knowing. We made it far enough to read the son’s tombstone, but not close enough to the shrieking woman.
The striped pajamas were going down each leg to the ankle. The stripes were red, blue, green, orange, purple, yellow, pink, and any other color you can think of. They were literally all the colors (not necessarily all the shades). Guess who was wearing the stripey pajamas? It was my brother, my little baby brother, his dark brown hair sticking up all cute, and his toothy, slimy smile grinned out at me underneath his just-woken up eyes.
I think about striped things all the time. The prismatic bands of color wrapped around a tasty minty cane that shocks my tastebuds and bring a smile to my face. Who knew that such a simple confection would become a time Christmas treat?
The striped horse was beautiful, in a strange, twisted way. It wasn’t quite like a zebra, although that did spring to mind the moment I saw it. Its entire body was a deep, pale gold and its stripes were as black as a moonless night. It didn’t move when it saw me, just stared at me sadly. As though I had something it wanted. I patted my pockets to check. Nope, no carrots. But then again, I doubted such a mystical animal could want carrots…
The stripes flickered in the dim light as the muscles beneath the horse’s skin flexed. It leaped into the bushes… And disappeared. I stared for a minute, wondering if I had been dreaming, but the sense of sadness from the creature convinced me I was awake. I watched the bushes, waiting to see a flash of gold and black. But I saw nothing.
When the sun rose the next day, I went again to the little lake where I had seen the striped horse. All I could find was a single black hair, probably from the creature’s mane. I made a bracelet with that one hair, certain that I would one day see the striped horse again.
striped pajamas. the little with striped pajamas was about a nazi camp and a little jewish boy who was trapped in an attic. he had no way to get out and be alive. he was trapped like me. trapped forever. the nazis are coming. what to do
His face was striped with the wounds he’d gotten during a thousand battles. He cried no more, because his heartache for the loss of his mother had taken it all out of him. He’d fight tomorrow, but for his life instead of his country. He was finally finished with this battle.
are we striped of our innocence or are we innocent because of our striped socks? I cannot remember the difference anymore. Things with stripes, things we strip. Clothes and candy. masks and dresses.
She put her hand on his shoulder, the striped fabric was soft to her touch. Her cheek had been there a moment ago, leaving tear stains – the only thing of hers that he would take with him.
He hovered over me. I in my undergarments, but he still had pants. I felt his toned chest, as my hand trailed down to his button of his pants. I slowly unzipped them, his lips pressed on my neck. I slid his pants down, and he kicked them off the rest of the way. He unattached his lips from my neck, and I looked down at the buldge I felt. I laughed. It was so ironic, he had on striped boxers! What straight man wears stripes? I thought to myself.
“What gay girl fucks a guy?”
My favourite top as a teenager was a blue and white striped top like a matelot shirt. Gosh that was so long ago……………
“That’s how all of Jeremy’s pajamas were: striped. Not spotted, not flannel, striped. Any color, but always with bands running up and down his body. He tried to take them off, but the stripes were like bands, hard and firm. They imprisoned poor Jeremy, and he died, wearing the striped.pajamas.”
Striped. His body covered in red. Thorns. He stands, facing greater pain. But he stands. He is striped. Blood. He suffers. He has stripes. He suffers. For you he bears the stripes.
A back. Striped. Red. Blood. He stands, the pain great. But he stands anyway. Striped. He is covered. About to suffer greater pain. Thorns. Lashes. Blood. He is striped. For you.
They cut three broad striped from their backs and rubbed salt in the wounds if they could not make the princess laugh. But, o how they tried. Humans have always been willing sacrifice great pain and humiliation for the promise of sex. But, alas, the princess would only laugh at one very specific thing, as all dour fairy tale princesses do: there is a magical animal that makes everyone stick to it in a long chain. That is the only hope.
the stains of what i’ve done are striped on my back
i am tiger in a cage
The polka dotted table was covered with a polka dotted tablecloth. On it stood polka dotted glasses holding a polka dotted flower. I looked at my polka dotted watch to check that I wasn’t being blown off. But in he walked- striped shirt and all.
Striped? No one liked stripes anymore.
“Why are you wearing stripes, Lily?” I asked, “No one likes stripes.”
She snorts. “I don’t wear my clothes for other people. I wear it because it’s what I like and want to wear.”
I shake my head.
She was wearing a yellow and black striped blouse, making her look somewhat like a bumblebee. I didn’t want to tell her this, so instead I looked out of the window next to me while someone hollered, “Nice shirt!” at her. Poor girl.
she is on a boat and i don’t know when she’ll get off. it makes me dizzy, the bobbing of the boat and the sun glinting off the lake. I don’t know we chose to go on this old wooden thing. She said it made her think of the Philadelphia story and the word yar and knowing that there would be freedom. I don’t think she realizes what she is talking about.
“Honestly how can you simply have a striped nail, when you have a striped shirt. I mean come on how does that even happen? Shirts are many different colors and nails are only one.”
The flag waved up high above him. It was a stupid joke. “Just boys being boys,” said the headmaster when he protested the treatment. “Nothing bad will happen.”
Only something bad did happen. Jake can feel his toes or his knees or even his fingers. He’s staring up at the flag and the flagpole watching, but not quite seeing. He can just make out the sounds of the other, older and bigger, boys starting to speak.
“Is he…?”
“Did we…?”
Shuffling bodies and stomping feet. Discomfort flitted through the group and the Jake on the ground.
“…should just leave!”
Then a voice, louder and horror-struck. “Look at his neck!”
Cries of terror and revulsion follow this pronouncement. The boys scatter in a small storm of of heavy feet.
All the while Jake stares up at the striped flag fluttering in the early morning wind until he can stare no more. His eyes are wide, mouth is half open and he doesn’t try to move.
There it was , the striped zebra that had escaped from the zoo.Well, not exactly escaped.It was a conscious decision, not an accident to sat the herd free.They were wild animals , not to be penned in like apples in a plastic bag.
the flag that ties a country together. it’s a country of fuck yeah. it is america.. striped is also prison clothes and sometime bath wear. also the french.
Frayed folds of skin curling in the sun. Red puddles on the ground dripping down from the striped man at the pillar. Being forced from our earthly vessels is a painful process.
She was striped, shoulders to thighs, white on black but for the tips of her wings: those were black-green, like spreading streaks of oil.
She put a finger to her lips.
Shhh…
Carrie closed her eyes tight and wrapped her arms around me. I stared back at the harpy.
She put a hand to the window, and tested the glass.
Striped pyjamas. Zebras are striped. It’s pattern of alternating color-bands. can be horizontal, vertical or random directional.
Like a skunk, she stunk up the room. Her beautiful dress marred by her arrogance. Her seemingly gracious words striped with false modesty was worse of all.
you are being striped of your powers
The strangest thing happened the other day. I was at the hospital dropping off some clothes for my mother and this young girl bumped in to me. I could tell she was very nervous, her hands were shaking and her shoulders hunched. I asked her if everything was all right and she mumbled no and ran off. I tried to chase her to make sure she was ok, but when I rounded the corner she was gone. As if she had never been there in the first place.
She ran down the stairs in her striped pyjamas. It was understandable since it was only midnight. Normally she wouldn’t be awake but she heard a strange noise and her curiosity got the better of her. She heard the strange clicking noise get louder and faster as she crept down the stairs. What was that noise?
stripped naked
to this room
to all the eyes
encompassing my shame
and all of my unknown fear
i am here
but how here am i?
Honestly
i fear so much
yet in my skin
at this moment
i feel i will never actually
be comfortable
i will never be home
home is stripped
of me
and all my insecurity
Striped flags blow in the wind. The gusts whipping the flags back and forth with a loud swish. This flag represents our freedom.
The bark from the trees are striped due to the ferocious winds, exposing the white and pure contents beneath.
zebras, jumpers, scarves, other articles of clothing..lines of colour; one after the other, combining to make a rainbow of aesthetically pleasing art.
With cruel accuracy the whips lashed, striking the kneeling man across his back. He just lay there and took it, helpless in his complete serenity. Strike after strike he took, until he couldn’t feel a thing.
The man lay, cold nothing but a rag on, he had nothing. Demons had taken it all from him, his child his wife his riches Job cried out in terrible agony. His very skin was falling off, nothing was left. Nothing but God.
He tiptoed down the stairs in his striped pajamas. He had heard a noise from his room. His mom thought he was sleeping, but he was just too excited, so when he heard the noise he decided to investigate. He silently poked his head over the stair railing to see who was in the living room, but when he saw his mom his mouth dropped open and his eyes opened wide. She was putting presents under the tree, a cookie popped in her mouth. That cookie was for Santa! What was she doing?
Two colours fly across my back and chest; they cross vertically and horizontally. It is my only style, and I don’t know how to change it. I am two people, but I’m only, honestly, one.
pajamas, and the smell of chestnuts, a boy in his element, but what kind of way was he going. Only the boy has his own knowing. We made it far enough to read the son’s tombstone, but not close enough to the shrieking woman.
The striped pajamas were going down each leg to the ankle. The stripes were red, blue, green, orange, purple, yellow, pink, and any other color you can think of. They were literally all the colors (not necessarily all the shades). Guess who was wearing the stripey pajamas? It was my brother, my little baby brother, his dark brown hair sticking up all cute, and his toothy, slimy smile grinned out at me underneath his just-woken up eyes.
I think about striped things all the time. The prismatic bands of color wrapped around a tasty minty cane that shocks my tastebuds and bring a smile to my face. Who knew that such a simple confection would become a time Christmas treat?
The striped horse was beautiful, in a strange, twisted way. It wasn’t quite like a zebra, although that did spring to mind the moment I saw it. Its entire body was a deep, pale gold and its stripes were as black as a moonless night. It didn’t move when it saw me, just stared at me sadly. As though I had something it wanted. I patted my pockets to check. Nope, no carrots. But then again, I doubted such a mystical animal could want carrots…
The stripes flickered in the dim light as the muscles beneath the horse’s skin flexed. It leaped into the bushes… And disappeared. I stared for a minute, wondering if I had been dreaming, but the sense of sadness from the creature convinced me I was awake. I watched the bushes, waiting to see a flash of gold and black. But I saw nothing.
When the sun rose the next day, I went again to the little lake where I had seen the striped horse. All I could find was a single black hair, probably from the creature’s mane. I made a bracelet with that one hair, certain that I would one day see the striped horse again.
striped pajamas. the little with striped pajamas was about a nazi camp and a little jewish boy who was trapped in an attic. he had no way to get out and be alive. he was trapped like me. trapped forever. the nazis are coming. what to do
His face was striped with the wounds he’d gotten during a thousand battles. He cried no more, because his heartache for the loss of his mother had taken it all out of him. He’d fight tomorrow, but for his life instead of his country. He was finally finished with this battle.
are we striped of our innocence or are we innocent because of our striped socks? I cannot remember the difference anymore. Things with stripes, things we strip. Clothes and candy. masks and dresses.
The striped dress the lady wore stuck in my head like a feather blown by the wind that got caught in a willow tree.
rip my clothes off. drum down the walls off my soul. see right through me and you’ll hate me.
She put her hand on his shoulder, the striped fabric was soft to her touch. Her cheek had been there a moment ago, leaving tear stains – the only thing of hers that he would take with him.
He hovered over me. I in my undergarments, but he still had pants. I felt his toned chest, as my hand trailed down to his button of his pants. I slowly unzipped them, his lips pressed on my neck. I slid his pants down, and he kicked them off the rest of the way. He unattached his lips from my neck, and I looked down at the buldge I felt. I laughed. It was so ironic, he had on striped boxers! What straight man wears stripes? I thought to myself.
“What gay girl fucks a guy?”