Andreso
The baby itself will define the words contained within his name. Everything else is properly named and defined.
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Compare me to a dead man

and you'll see there's light between. 

Compare me to a lightbulb screen, 

and you'll see an almost dead man. 

Compare me to an honest chicken, 

which one's got more feathers? 

Who's the one to rate a pristine glassstone in a golden bucket fair? 

Who's the one to rate a blind wheat odor contest? 

Who's the one to combine an intertwined concept of right and wrong? 

Who's the opinion to change everyone else opinion in just a singular line? 

Mother, help me to succeed

Aunt Laura, help me to succeed

Sister Sara, help me to succeed

Fallen angels, help me to succeed. 

Compare me to a routeless window looking to the north, 

and then compare me to a tombstone engrave. 

Compare me to the golden sun, 

and then, 

compare me to a single fiber of the carpet you're standing on. 

Compare me to heaven, and compare me to hell, 

compare everything between and you'll found yourself dead, in comparison. 

Rate a star on a starry night, 

rate a finger on a hand, 

rate the best chocolate cake you've ever had. 

Rate a humble man, 

rate a boat, 

rate the cuckle sound in a goat's hoof. 

Rate a mattress, 

rate bleach brands, 

but never rate the love you have for an elevated prism. 

0
0
0
Juice
11 reads
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Compare me to a dead man
and you'll see there's light between. 
Compare me to a lightbulb screen, 
and you'll see an almost dead man. 
Compare me to an honest chicken, 
which one's got more feathers? 

Who's the one to rate a pristine glassstone in a golden bucket fair? 
Who's the one to rate a blind wheat odor contest? 
Who's the one to combine an intertwined concept of right and wrong? 
Who's the opinion to change everyone else opinion in just a singular line? 

Mother, help me to succeed
Aunt Laura, help me to succeed
Sister Sara, help me to succeed
Fallen angels, help me to succeed. 

Compare me to a routeless window looking to the north, 
and then compare me to a tombstone engrave. 
Compare me to the golden sun, 
and then, 
compare me to a single fiber of the carpet you're standing on. 
Compare me to heaven, and compare me to hell, 
compare everything between and you'll found yourself dead, in comparison. 

Rate a star on a starry night, 
rate a finger on a hand, 
rate the best chocolate cake you've ever had. 

Rate a humble man, 
rate a boat, 
rate the cuckle sound in a goat's hoof. 

Rate a mattress, 
rate bleach brands, 
but never rate the love you have for an elevated prism. 
0
0
0
Juice
11 reads
Login to post comments.
Advertisement  (turn off)
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Micropoetry

Kettle.

A shiny kettle sound, 

will always remind, 

there's innocent people around. 

1
0
1
Juice
7 reads
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Micropoetry
Kettle.
A shiny kettle sound, 
will always remind, 
there's innocent people around. 
1
0
1
Juice
7 reads
Load 1 Comment
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Micropoetry

Useless rain.

It might feel useless 

to count each raindrop 

falling by. 

0
0
0
Juice
6 reads
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Micropoetry
Useless rain.
It might feel useless 
to count each raindrop 
falling by. 
0
0
0
Juice
6 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Horror & Thriller

Amandita's curse.

She said "ugh, we have to pass this room".

We entered a baroque theatre hall, at half lights, there was no stage, but the seats and the walls were a scenery itself, the patterns where made of shades continuously expanding and contracting, there were pale ceramic figures, they looked consumed and terrified, with black eyes and hollow mouths, if I tried to focus they distorted, as if their energy was drawn by a cursed force. There were paintings hanging on the wall.

She said "oh no, she's here".

I replied "who's here?".

She said "Amandita" while pointing to a big painting with a woman's face, with black eyes and a serious look. Amandita might've been a cursed spanish aristocrat.

As I looked I started levitating, feeling like everything was wrong in there, and felt the curse growing inside me. I felt lost and scared, I couldn't move up in the air. She kept going and disappeared through a door that erased as she passed by.

The face of Amandita kept staring while it shed some shade tears, as if the black oil painting was dripping and sliding forming shade stems.

I knew my mind couldn't have made this room, I felt doomed as a visitor in a serial nightmare curse, I had the feeling that I wasn't the only one that had been there, and maybe the past ones who came became one of those swollen ceramic figures sitting sterile in the red cloth seats.

I suddenly woke up and felt the same as in my nightmare, cursed and scared. I could still see the shade patterns and distorted images surrounding me, and was too scare to move. I just hold her tight and kissed the back of her head hoping I'll never be back in that room.  

0
0
0
Juice
12 reads
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Horror & Thriller
Amandita's curse.
She said "ugh, we have to pass this room".
We entered a baroque theatre hall, at half lights, there was no stage, but the seats and the walls were a scenery itself, the patterns where made of shades continuously expanding and contracting, there were pale ceramic figures, they looked consumed and terrified, with black eyes and hollow mouths, if I tried to focus they distorted, as if their energy was drawn by a cursed force. There were paintings hanging on the wall.
She said "oh no, she's here".
I replied "who's here?".
She said "Amandita" while pointing to a big painting with a woman's face, with black eyes and a serious look. Amandita might've been a cursed spanish aristocrat.
As I looked I started levitating, feeling like everything was wrong in there, and felt the curse growing inside me. I felt lost and scared, I couldn't move up in the air. She kept going and disappeared through a door that erased as she passed by.
The face of Amandita kept staring while it shed some shade tears, as if the black oil painting was dripping and sliding forming shade stems.
I knew my mind couldn't have made this room, I felt doomed as a visitor in a serial nightmare curse, I had the feeling that I wasn't the only one that had been there, and maybe the past ones who came became one of those swollen ceramic figures sitting sterile in the red cloth seats.

I suddenly woke up and felt the same as in my nightmare, cursed and scared. I could still see the shade patterns and distorted images surrounding me, and was too scare to move. I just hold her tight and kissed the back of her head hoping I'll never be back in that room.  
0
0
0
Juice
12 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Write the longest grammatically sound alliteration you can possibly muster. The longest such alliteration's author wins $150 if, and only if, this challenge receives at least 300 entries. Editing is allowed.
Written by Andreso in portal Words

Bastard Blues

A big black velvet bloated ballon

brings back better barn libretto, 

but a bleak blank blanket blisters back. 

Better be boyish, butter or boat. 

A blessed book bigger than bread loafs

and a bright bazooka scope, 

bring varnished brightness. 

Bring the best beer and brutal 

brand breakfast, believe it and but why, 

broken bold backfires at the Bastille, 

Beck's song Bottle of Blues, 

barbaric ballista's, 

blinded berserkers, 

bitter bouzuki players, 

blend because of bibles. 

But back on brain bleeding, 

or brained back busted believers, 

breathe better, breathe best, 

bacteria. 

The bust of Beethoven, 

blazed on burnt breadsticks, 

behaves, 

as the beehive and brass

breaks, 

and the blue brick

boo-hoo's. 

3
0
0
Juice
40 reads
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Write the longest grammatically sound alliteration you can possibly muster. The longest such alliteration's author wins $150 if, and only if, this challenge receives at least 300 entries. Editing is allowed.
Written by Andreso in portal Words
Bastard Blues
A big black velvet bloated ballon
brings back better barn libretto, 
but a bleak blank blanket blisters back. 
Better be boyish, butter or boat. 
A blessed book bigger than bread loafs
and a bright bazooka scope, 
bring varnished brightness. 
Bring the best beer and brutal 
brand breakfast, believe it and but why, 
broken bold backfires at the Bastille, 
Beck's song Bottle of Blues, 
barbaric ballista's, 
blinded berserkers, 
bitter bouzuki players, 
blend because of bibles. 
But back on brain bleeding, 
or brained back busted believers, 
breathe better, breathe best, 
bacteria. 
The bust of Beethoven, 
blazed on burnt breadsticks, 
behaves, 
as the beehive and brass
breaks, 
and the blue brick
boo-hoo's. 




3
0
0
Juice
40 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Poetry & Free Verse

The one who hangs on the strings of the moss.

So why are you still hanging in the strings of moss? 

Another day collides, 

another woman confesses and signal's to cross. 

Straight from the abyss a briefcase arises, 

no sound included. 

Straight from the matching shoelaces

in stranger shoes, 

the bruise pain disappears. 

A boiling stew, under the rain, 

a rare egg hatches. 

Straight under the surface the penguin's march

flows with dissonance. 

It is invertebrate and pure. 

It is signed within its innocence. 

It is the verb in form 

and formed verses. 

It is in its appearance similar to a spider web. 

It is a coil and its recoil. 

It is in its finest greeting form. 

It's like a hug but it can't fulfill. 

It is like sorcery but all mages stand still. 

Straight out of violence in its momentary lapses, 

a heartbeat singing and the rhymes are twinning. 

Straight out of silence and its voice reconsiders, 

a handmade letter, with no words, just signature. 

And the cold stands still. 

Another night of waving lights, 

but we aren't on a boat anymore. 

Another casket feeds on moonlight flowers, 

and you're still hanging in the strings of the moss. 

1
0
0
Juice
17 reads
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Poetry & Free Verse
The one who hangs on the strings of the moss.
So why are you still hanging in the strings of moss? 
Another day collides, 
another woman confesses and signal's to cross. 

Straight from the abyss a briefcase arises, 
no sound included. 
Straight from the matching shoelaces
in stranger shoes, 
the bruise pain disappears. 
A boiling stew, under the rain, 
a rare egg hatches. 
Straight under the surface the penguin's march
flows with dissonance. 

It is invertebrate and pure. 

It is signed within its innocence. 

It is the verb in form 
and formed verses. 

It is in its appearance similar to a spider web. 

It is a coil and its recoil. 

It is in its finest greeting form. 

It's like a hug but it can't fulfill. 

It is like sorcery but all mages stand still. 

Straight out of violence in its momentary lapses, 
a heartbeat singing and the rhymes are twinning. 
Straight out of silence and its voice reconsiders, 
a handmade letter, with no words, just signature. 

And the cold stands still. 

Another night of waving lights, 
but we aren't on a boat anymore. 
Another casket feeds on moonlight flowers, 
and you're still hanging in the strings of the moss. 

1
0
0
Juice
17 reads
Login to post comments.
Advertisement  (turn off)
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Micropoetry

A comforting noise appears

but it fades away into silver. 

A comforting voice disappears

and everything else will shiver.

2
0
2
Juice
29 reads
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Micropoetry
A comforting noise appears
but it fades away into silver. 
A comforting voice disappears
and everything else will shiver.

2
0
2
Juice
29 reads
Load 2 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Micropoetry

The peacock's tail is growing

as the king's crown falls

as water flows

and the river is tired. 

3
0
1
Juice
29 reads
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Micropoetry
The peacock's tail is growing
as the king's crown falls
as water flows
and the river is tired. 

3
0
1
Juice
29 reads
Load 1 Comment
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Poetry & Free Verse

I found myself singing to myself again

in front of the window I use as a mirror

I can't see myself as clear as I see the only tree

I can't hear myself as clear, as deep, as I hear it on my mind. 

Amidst the wilderness might lie a stone

as hard as my heart's core

both might break as the voice overtones

finding out for a way to go. 

I found myself singing to myself again

in ashed veil, wearing black, 

the timing's perfect

the verse is weak

but it's a shell

wearing down. 

The weight is heavy, 

not heavier than the roots

but heavier than the rain outside

flickering the mirrorlike window. 

Outside my temple I breathe in

reality breathes in

the reality where I sing

sad songs to a faded view of myself

but who I am to criticize the powder in the grey snow?

Maybe it's just an instance

maybe a trance 

or a self driven lullaby. 

Maybe it's that I'm ahead of myself for an instant, 

maybe my hands are heavy

I'm unable to reach penance in the mist I'm standing, 

maybe my feet are also heavy. 

My voice breaks when I'm unable

but my voice isn't famous for it's melodies

nor the strings of a broken piano. 

My voice tweaks when I'm a fable,

wearing donkey ears

and long black clothes

as if I was a lethal presence

and anywhere my voice bounces

heaven and hell rises. 

Amidst the wilderness might lie something pure, 

crystal pure

divine

as the spirit arises. 

5
0
0
Juice
160 reads
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Poetry & Free Verse
I found myself singing to myself again
in front of the window I use as a mirror
I can't see myself as clear as I see the only tree
I can't hear myself as clear, as deep, as I hear it on my mind. 

Amidst the wilderness might lie a stone
as hard as my heart's core
both might break as the voice overtones
finding out for a way to go. 

I found myself singing to myself again
in ashed veil, wearing black, 
the timing's perfect
the verse is weak
but it's a shell
wearing down. 
The weight is heavy, 
not heavier than the roots
but heavier than the rain outside
flickering the mirrorlike window. 

Outside my temple I breathe in
reality breathes in
the reality where I sing
sad songs to a faded view of myself
but who I am to criticize the powder in the grey snow?

Maybe it's just an instance
maybe a trance 
or a self driven lullaby. 

Maybe it's that I'm ahead of myself for an instant, 
maybe my hands are heavy
I'm unable to reach penance in the mist I'm standing, 
maybe my feet are also heavy. 

My voice breaks when I'm unable
but my voice isn't famous for it's melodies
nor the strings of a broken piano. 

My voice tweaks when I'm a fable,
wearing donkey ears
and long black clothes
as if I was a lethal presence
and anywhere my voice bounces
heaven and hell rises. 

Amidst the wilderness might lie something pure, 
crystal pure
divine
as the spirit arises. 




5
0
0
Juice
160 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Poetry & Free Verse

A floating spider web carried by the wind 

is ahead of me,

a flying potato skin, 

radio station frequencies,

hermit crab thoughts,

lip gloss in shady colors, 

politic narcissistic achievements, 

jailbait skinny infractions, 

mathematical problem books, 

a nihilistic point of view of birth, 

hanging gardens in tales from the past, 

a glowing stick, 

a thermometer under a child's tongue who called in sick, 

seaweed and seals, 

great mountain peaks, 

a salad bar, 

wooden spoons, 

Entwistle's bass riff, 

the thoughts of my divorced parents, 

the verses in modern rap, 

the beats in modern trap, 

a rat trap filled in with poisonous bread, 

the stinking cellar liquid, 

a spoiled girl trying to put on a Barbie's dress, 

a mistress in government office, 

the mother of birds, 

a cactae grown in an apartment, 

the coconut shell, 

the coconut water, 

fiber cookies, 

raw recipes, 

and a flag that stands out for a millennial kingdom, 

are ahead of me. 

Only a bubble filled with dark gas, 

rooted in a jellyfish dream, 

always sinking

in the collective thought of mice society, 

inside an empty can of chicken soup, 

were left behind. 

Oh time burdens me to breathe ahead and behind, 

will I arrange my personal bible in alphabetical order? 

or chaotic stripes printed on my back, 

will carry the truth, 

of all that's past

and anything to come. 

Light beacons, 

scented candles, 

swollen torches, 

buried in mystique. 

The shade arises as the sun goes down, 

the shade arouses when skin is fertile, 

the shade's romances in memories catalogue, 

an impression of me carrying a bag in the peak of twilight. 

2
0
0
Juice
29 reads
Donate coins to Andreso.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Andreso in portal Poetry & Free Verse
A floating spider web carried by the wind 
is ahead of me,
a flying potato skin, 
radio station frequencies,
hermit crab thoughts,
lip gloss in shady colors, 
politic narcissistic achievements, 
jailbait skinny infractions, 
mathematical problem books, 
a nihilistic point of view of birth, 
hanging gardens in tales from the past, 
a glowing stick, 
a thermometer under a child's tongue who called in sick, 
seaweed and seals, 
great mountain peaks, 
a salad bar, 
wooden spoons, 
Entwistle's bass riff, 
the thoughts of my divorced parents, 
the verses in modern rap, 
the beats in modern trap, 
a rat trap filled in with poisonous bread, 
the stinking cellar liquid, 
a spoiled girl trying to put on a Barbie's dress, 
a mistress in government office, 
the mother of birds, 
a cactae grown in an apartment, 
the coconut shell, 
the coconut water, 
fiber cookies, 
raw recipes, 
and a flag that stands out for a millennial kingdom, 
are ahead of me. 

Only a bubble filled with dark gas, 
rooted in a jellyfish dream, 
always sinking
in the collective thought of mice society, 
inside an empty can of chicken soup, 
were left behind. 

Oh time burdens me to breathe ahead and behind, 
will I arrange my personal bible in alphabetical order? 
or chaotic stripes printed on my back, 
will carry the truth, 
of all that's past
and anything to come. 

Light beacons, 
scented candles, 
swollen torches, 
buried in mystique. 
The shade arises as the sun goes down, 
the shade arouses when skin is fertile, 
the shade's romances in memories catalogue, 
an impression of me carrying a bag in the peak of twilight. 


2
0
0
Juice
29 reads
Login to post comments.
Advertisement  (turn off)