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Dreams of Sepia Sep 2015
Iggy & Lou,
my iron angels
I do love you two
I am your sister now
schooled in experience
a Passenger
a Transformer
of dark days
though, Lou
they never tried
to fry my brain
thank god
Iggy, what did you do
when you were bored
locked up
what did you do
to shock them
I want to see your notes
& what they wrote
what havoc you caused
if you tried to jump over the fence
Boys, no matter how they treated you
your music still came out
they couldn't stop you
& they won't stop me
for with you, I am free
donning my leather
strutting my stuff
spitting words
out like charcoal
& grit
through the night's
backside
I trust everyone knows who Iggy Pop & Lou Reed are. Iggy Pop was sectioned in hospital at the height of his fame, when he was also writing his most controversial music, apparently criticizing the government. Lou Reed was given electroshock therapy for apparent schizophrenia because his family did not understand his personality.  I have been in similar situations & what's more, as a poet, it happened to me at a pivotal stage in my career & when instead of receiving protection, because I'd had my life threatened because of it & was afraid, I was locked up in hospital as mentally ill for it.
Raymond Johnson Jan 2015
the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right

in the supposedly post-racial united states of america

the only thing this society seems to be is post humanity.

black americans are routinely treated with barely a shred of human decency.

stripped of our agency under the iron fist of white supremacy

post the cold blooded murders of Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Ezell Ford, Eric Garner, Kimane Gray, John Crawford, and countless others-

these are the strange fruits that hang from our nation’s poplar trees.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. or is it nineteen sixty four? many a time I have opened the morning paper to see headlines that would not be out of place in that era of bloodshed.

more care given to a cotton cloth flag than to the black bodies that lie battered and broken in the streets.

"think of the businesses!" they scream, mouths afroth.

but won't anyone think of the black children murdered for carrying BB Guns? won't anyone think of the fathers? the mothers? the sons and daughters whose lives are cut short by those who are supposed to 'protect and serve?'

I will stop "making this about race" when the police stop giving me reason to fear for my life simply for existing. it is not enough to be peaceful and innocent anymore.

does this conversation upset you? can you not cope with these atrocities that go on every day in your precious land of the free?

In a sick way it almost makes sense

that in a nation built from nothing upon the backs of the enslaved

that it would take a bit longer than a hundred and fifty years to stop feeling the pain.

the whips and chains that once bound us were not broken, but merely transformed.

our shackles are now student loans;

plantations were exchanged for privatized prisons and lynch mobs now wear blue uniforms.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right.

maybe it’s got something to do with the way that all people seem to care about nowadays is iggy azalea’s new hit single but not the way that white rappers want to be black so badly up until it’s time to fight for us. to march with us. to die with us.

miley cyrus can prance around onstage fetishizing black bodies like modern day hottentot venuses but when black bodies are being violated by the police she’s strangely silent.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right.


but there is a light that shines through this darkness. that light is within me, and you, and within the hearts of every single man and woman of all colors and creeds who raises their fists and says "No more."  

our fight is not over. the road will be long. it is very possible that more will die along the way.  but their deaths will not be in vain.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but it will not be this way forever.

and and fourteen and something isn't right

in the supposedly post-racial united states of america

the only thing this society seems to be is post humanity.

black americans are routinely treated with barely a shred of human decency.

stripped of our agency under the iron fist of white supremacy

post the cold blooded murders of Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Ezell Ford, Eric Garner, Kimane Gray, John Crawford, and countless others-

these are the strange fruits that hang from our nation’s poplar trees.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. or is it nineteen sixty four? many a time I have opened the morning paper to see headlines that would not be out of place in that era of bloodshed.

more care given to a cotton cloth flag than to the black bodies that lie battered and broken in the streets.

"think of the businesses!" they scream, mouths afroth.

but won't anyone think of the black children murdered for carrying BB Guns? won't anyone think of the fathers? the mothers? the sons and daughters whose lives are cut short by those who are supposed to 'protect and serve?'

I will stop "making this about race" when the police stop giving me reason to fear for my life simply for existing. it is not enough to be peaceful and innocent anymore.

does this conversation upset you? can you not cope with these atrocities that go on every day in your precious land of the free?

In a sick way it almost makes sense

that in a nation built from nothing upon the backs of the enslaved

that it would take a bit longer than a hundred and fifty years to stop feeling the pain.

the whips and chains that once bound us were not broken, but merely transformed.

our shackles are now student loans;

plantations were exchanged for privatized prisons and lynch mobs now wear blue uniforms.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right.

maybe it’s got something to do with the way that all people seem to care about nowadays is iggy azalea’s new hit single but not the way that white rappers want to be black so badly up until it’s time to fight for us. to march with us. to die with us.

miley cyrus can prance around onstage fetishizing black bodies like modern day hottentot venuses but when black bodies are being violated by the police she’s strangely silent.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right.


but there is a light that shines through this darkness. that light is within me, and you, and within the hearts of every single man and woman of all colors and creeds who raises their fists and says "No more."  

our fight is not over. the road will be long. it is very possible that more will die along the way.  but their deaths will not be in vain.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but it will not be this way forever.
Chris T Jan 2014
My girlfriend
Recently
Moved in with me
So she decided
To call her friend,
Who was also
A close friend of mine,
For a couple of beers
In the now 'our' house.
Carmel Scotts
Arrived, knocked,
At around 9,
And girlfriend let him in
And his motorcycle
Sat outside near my
****** old car.
He was a skinny
Ill skin tone guy
Due to his being a
Poppy aficionado,
And he dressed
Like he belonged at
A London punk rock
Concert in the early 80s.
He came in
With his huge mohawk
Flipping God and the system off
And his boots
Knock knock knocking
On Satan's roof.
'Sup' 'Sup' 'Beer?'
'Yeah man, of course'
And we drank and drank
And the now 'our' clock's hands
Moved and struck
12.
We were quite drunk.
I put on
That record
By The Stooges
That we loved
And went to take a ****.
When I came back
Iggy was moaning about
Some Deathe Car
While on the now 'our' floor
Carmel crouched
Like a tiger
Above girlfriend's opened legs
As she too moaned
Being eaten alive by
the now 'our' friend.
They were really going at it
And didn't notice I was back.
I was mad,
Really ****** mad.
I was about
To slam him
Off girlfriend and beat him
To a pulp
When suddenly, I woke up.
I remembered
That I don't have a girlfriend,
(I never have had one)
And I don't have a punk friend
(Or any friend really).
So from mad
I turned sad
And got drunk without both of em.
Just for fun. I wrote this at 1:30am. It's funny in my opinion. Haha, I really don't have friends, I've never had a gf but I use that fact to be funny. Carmel Scotts was actually my imaginary punk friend from when I was a lonely 8 year old, I don't know where you are, Carmel, but I miss you and you can eat out my gf any time, bro!
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
an entire day of abstaining from "syringe",
whoever said it was:
the perfect dis-satisfaction -
supposedly it passes as quick as someone
puffing on crack...
                well...
                      the first cigarette...
when "quitting"... after years of 20 a day...
and this quitting: because no cheap
ciagarettes on the horizon from moldova...
or bulgaria...

    the first hit... feels like electricity...
i can feel it from my head...
right down to my toes...
          in my heels...
the tingling at first... then it all subsides...
into a sensation of a thrown stone
into the stomach:
like a nun jumping a bungee...
i feel like a teenager... who first sipped
alcohol...
the carousel of intoxication -
yet: so contained...
        there's the thrill and an
insurmountable number of adjectives
to the sensation:
face like a sponge head like blitzkrieg
theatre...
         i'm "quitting"...
well... 10 years exposed to the numbing...
perfect the ritual:
i guess i must...
    how long will it last... long enough:
to base the drinking on what becomes
the cigarette: on the peripheries:
and closure...

must i take any more revelation drugs...
apart from what's taxed and legal...
a solipsistic cigarette and some
gomme syrope: putting ms. amber
into the refrigerator...
              
i can feel the horde the tsunami from
a fat head through
a whirlwind dropped into my stomach...
and then the magic toes: tingling...
of course: i'm "quitting"...
quitting as much as...
mellow lou reed contra iggy pop
when bowie was with him in berlin...

"quitting"... the initial hit is over...
the first impressions...
the formality is thrilling...
then comes the diffusion:
the informality of fractions and percentages...
from the brain... the nerves...
perhaps the heart...
and the last place to look into:
the liver...

         and other... soft-tissue glue parts...
and the ritual:
a packet of benson & hedges...
wrapped up with about 10 rubber bands...
it has been waiting for me
for the entire day...
and now that the night is here...
a day when an apple tree was planted
along with a cherry tree...

the garden is looking more and more
presentable for sale...
but before the sale: it must be enjoyed...
i never thought that...
a cigarette: after... this short prospect
of abstinance...
is almost like the first...
but when coupled with the whiskey...
hell... i can't remember the last
time i drank and it felt like...
i was a teenager: under-age drinking
in one of those ****** clubs that
high-school girls go to find boys
with cars... out of school without
a-levels...
and boys go... to find... ms. ambers...
and jazzy gits of mr. fuzzy mr. funny...
the bavarian brothers: the weisers...

please! please! more...
these days of "quitting"...
             because what could be fun
about an absolute cold-turkey...
when you have a stash of...
  600 cigarettes... and... if the math is
about right...
and since the free movement of
people is a rapunzel dream off-the-cuff...

600 cigarettes... if i get it right...
move from 2 per ritual of going to bed...
into 1... that's... either a year
with missing 56 days somewhere...
no rolling tobacco though...
look m'ah! no bongs no syringes!
look p'ah! no snorting bleeding nose...
no... plum bruises from...

as long as there's an inhibition period...
a period of: i wish i could send
a postcard from... Basildon, Essex...
to... someone obliterated by a craze-maze
of lights... like... whatever...

i just heard stories...
                  about the effects of other drugs...
but... it's not like they come back...
with straitjackets to rekindle old flames
of "crossing the threshold" within
the confines of tobacco and alcohol...
moderately: well: not to quote the ideal
units consumed...
     i'm pretty sure i read some pickwick papers
today and... dickens "forgot" some...
conjunction words...
unless of course: his style...
                    -open            
                          to question-
                        esp. adjectives that...
or is it... nouns that act like this that and the other:
as if verbs...
            
    roughly half an hour... the full extent of
a cigarette...
the very first is probably the same
as the "very first" when you're "quitting"...
from circa 20 per day...
to 2-a-day...
                      "quitting" and first getting
hooked...
           the whiskers and fire fathers
                                   of the apache
              are a balancing act that follows...
oh sure... i'll quit smoking...
when the ritual is over...
i have left the casual smoker behind...
somewhere... over coffee...
over the tradition of that cigarette after
a meal: the digestifs smoke-up...
i left these smokers behind...
the nervous smokers...
the waiting at a bus-stop smokers...
the after *** smokers...

          the day is coming to an end...
i'm going to enjoy some music...
drink a little... i'll start calling this smoking
cigarette pattern... what? what else?!
my tobacco ramadam!
chances are... i'll still be unable
to appreciate roxy music...
   and the english dandy...
                       the music is here...
the little bit of *****... and the "pipe"!
here comes my face...
here comes the zoo...
            
             but i'm quitting... "quitting"...
the wolf of wall st. -
                      drug addict... that all depends
on how you treat tobacco...
the cigarette... abstaining for a day...
after a "hiatus" from healthy breathing...
viruses and car zinc and lead exhausts...
cow farts...
                  
    a terrible way to treat tobacco...
i find... is the casual... informal way...
a bit like... internet access...
whoever grew up with it being stationary...
like... a telephone... or a phonebox...
it was never carried:
always a returned to:
like a swizz safety-deposit box
in a bank... that could...
bypass tax regulations and subpoenas...

the good old days...
saturdays the park... the high street...
the car park... climbing to the top
and spitting phlegm bombs at people...
peter ******* richardson...
and kieran o'mahoney...
samuel richards...
         a ****** among the irish...
in england...
then again: richardson...
eh...
                                   ascot?
      i.e. a shcoot?!
                    the break between my first
ritual cigarette...
         and my closing affair for the night...
whether i drink less or not...
in the middle of the night
i wake up on the floor...
         i sleep on the floor for about
an hour... two demons want to ****
in my bed... then i'm thrown back into
the bed of cushions and mattress...
  only yesterday i killed someone in my dream...
and i was... like the zodiac killer...
anonymous...
i heard hook & sinker teases of:
the crime scene read like a crime thriller...
to appease the ego...

two days running thrown out of bed...
this is a terribly composed...
it is... "quarantine" poetics...
i'm "quitting" smoking...
                   i'm making tobacco...
i'm giving tobacco ritual rites...
                   no lazy tobacco smoking...
end of the day... ms. amber in hand...
maxing out on 2!
the next two? the next day...
              the same packet of cigarettes...
2 inside with a lighter...
wrapped up using about 10 rubber bands...
a like-for-like replica of
pin-heads "tattoo geography"...

       yes... because... someone's nearing
the snorting olympics?!
           if all you were given...
was tobacco and alcohol...
             the first one... oh! mein! gott!
it feels like being a teenager... once more...
and experiencing the alcohol carousel
for the very first time...
tobacco? that came later...
after the alcohol... after the ****...
the **** came in age 21...
the tobacco came in... age 21.09...
whatever that implies...

                      it's nice... though...
absitance... you wait for the entire day...
by the of it... some variant of... tourette's kicks
in... it's all very nice asking for
cupcakes and bagels...
scones and daffodils:
or... suicide by: lily-of-the-valley...
i.e. room filled with them...
and no ventilation...
talk about... no hanging... projects...
of Seneca cutting wrists in a bath...
just... getting drunk...
and being allowed to fall asleep
in a vacuous room filled with
lily-of-the-valley bouquets...

             we can talk about suicide... no?
when... it's... beautiful? no? ha!
how was the hemlock... prescribed?
as a drink?
             i... it's almost irritating that...
i will not write anything more sensible
after i take the 2 cigarette to the grave of sleep...
no matter...
i wasn't hoping to invest in much:
today gave me enough.
Alexa Sz Apr 2010
I
intelligent Iggy iguana is impossible,
ignorant, ill, if it is in.
impersonator Igel is into infinitive items
I illustrate intros
Iberia is interesting in ice
I'm Impeccable!
Edna Sweetlove Nov 2014
Yes, it's yet another magical "Barry Hodges" poem!*

Some people think that Jerusalem is an interesting old city,
Full of pretzels, gefilte fish and more matzo ***** than you could count
(albeit not the best place in the world if you fancy a nice pork chop
or indeed a tasty plate of bacon and eggs with some black pudding
and don't even think of eating out on a Friday night).
But there is another side to this vibrant metropolis
With its interesting mixture of east and east.
Dear reader, believe me, I kid you not! For I have been there
And I have seen it in all its hideous horror and violence.

I was there, wandering gaily near that boo-hoo wall
(all that remains of the old temple, thanks to Titus),
With my young nephew Ignatius, a total ****** of immense girth,
Who had moreover a staggering stutter and a load of ****** boils,
(which meant he sprayed people with pus when he spoke).
Oh alas and alack! A gang of ill-dressed American youths,
(probably the sons of immigrant businessmen or diplomats
or even the illegitimate descendants of head-nodding rabbis),
High as kites on Pepsi-cola, or some other plebeian muck,
Came running at us with their plastic machetes at the ready,
And I wisely scarpered like a cute choirboy with a priest on my tail,
Leaving fat Iggy to face the music tutto solo in his wheelchair.

Now, prepare to weep tears of laughter, for they left him
Lying in the gutter, like a giant squashed pizza,
His legs broken to bits and his head half sawn off,
And for what, I hear you ask? Well, they were envious
Of his neon combined skullcap and hairpiece (it made him look
half-human, a major improvement on his normal hideous state).
Poor Iggy dragged out a miserable half-alive existence
For a few awful months in a dilapidated infirmary;
Dear God, he will not be going back to Jerusalem in a hurry;
In fact he'll be going nowhere except six feet under.
(I was thinking of donating his wheelchair to the Gaza Relief Fund
but they can't afford the UPS charge for the transportation,
and it's a bit blood-and-brains-spattered anyway.)
Dreams of Sepia Aug 2015
Come on, Lady Luck
Throw the dice, spin
the wheel or draw a straw

tell me which way to go
which of these verses
would make his heart sing

for we poets are sirens
driving men to the rocks
& the clock waits so patiently

in the corner, in on the plan
& the city is a memory
sketched in teenage graffiti

& I'm Iggy's ' Passenger'
on a never-ending train
seeing my youth calling again

passing by me
behind cracked glass
beckoning the imagination

laughing, teasing:
' Are you lucky, Miss'
the answer comes : silence

like before the beginning of the world
Nygil McCune May 2013
Eye dough knot wah aunt two Nome oar. Dew ewe here me? May key me stoop Id.
Julius Nov 2013
oh **** just realised bare movements 2wards success dnt think
THIS TIME, but not just say 'dont know' rather than just saying
It lasted 24 hours, at least i do?
Epic album in my living room lol
them waterproof socks were gonna die of cancer we'd be nice D!
NEVER STOP MAKING me
yes well it
insert ambiguos, nondescript but first
spanish exam conditions, conditions which wall were gonna BUY them off
and i die, I wanna hear about 2500 bones id need a birthday with a large group of 17/18 year olds
89.01 for da nine
he gets the light ray effect for
is it is and no KURUMA!
Ok so we progress through the clean flow of 'having a reminder, dont
Because Чou Are A list of MY favoutite photos i have 'got the 40's music
AM I end of school?
*** americans are so
i watched super sweet 16 and now
3 Ivo my ROOOME! MY SWEET ROME!
mi amigos son
when i die, I was hench
I'm not too but you
I watched Super Sweet ROME!
This is whats happening to BE working
luv your fellow man, NO matter what happens. i would rather die than take notes...
people are bad when we've all done
yeah dont watch after all, he doesn't have one* Sorry im tipsy
ahh he's completely changed it...
yeah dont watch it
in fact, not a bad subject its interesting but still proves my point not yours so
in fact, not should you, would actually rather spend time with both arms swinging, well, I'll tell me
guess everyones at the caravan
think my wisdom teeth are coming soon
89.01 for 1 bike and 1 bike and abused for
i'm ******* SERIOUS?
must do coursework, must listen
ok about the street, almost over At the levels cuz
2 many ppl online anyway
come to a party or social gathering where for
should be pretty good
it is there womans face and a lampshade behind me?
btw i did with strangers
dont take pride in an easter egg
i watched super sweet 16 and feel happy
m a party or social status. chew on the telly impress the nation, im a product of my favoutite photos EVER!
anyone whos doing ANY REVISION?
dnt chat **** y11 white rappers who aren't good.
Classic Jamie scruple Should I need to climb over a mountain of Valentines cards to get out o the house?
I'm not a 9to5 a 4 39% Allow this
year 10s are hyping over a mountain of us looking piff
*** americans are such an intelligent sounding statement here
in fact, not on the menu screen tap the triggers repeatedly then
does anyone know
so theres online write ****** responses you
Originality is really long, i will treat others
you need to be popstars we cannot change?
year 10s are always
relax and take it
round two windows
, no, the game
well it **** though, none of there full mental capacity and who's ...a danger to themselves senselessly, and i can’t improve, school
Your dress is very consistent with enduring 2 Chainz + Iggy Azalea but **** it
**** education, i don’t wanna be perfect, then
2 many ppl online even tho the Day!
gal dem would be honest forum
oh **** just realised bare movements 2wards success dnt forget to please therefore stop being friends with that
i watched super sweet 16 years, the coursework deadline is tomorow!
this is sarcasm lol
at the diner, clothes aint designer vision, i will continue thank you
wish i had some friends with gets totally embarrassed and i hate slow internet, and his lyrics have Maths is at the open evening.
no, it WAS SUPPOSED TO BE a few words, why
legally made to be easy to get. I invite you
insert ambiguos, nondescript but theyve sorted it
Who said anything NO ****!
utorrent never STOP MAKING THEM PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

you need to be teachers but we’re treated like the school
and i hate slow internet, and i know
THIS TIME, IT'S BETTER! BECOME A fan
well it is on DETOX I WIL PUNCH THE WALL until THERES JUST A few questions, oh well
cant wait till these exams are almost over At the same time
to clarify, I was cros examining me
but i DARE you
and i will treat you

Basically the problem was caused by a bug in the background
single strand in an infinite white plane of intelligence remembering things and performing well
Justin bieber is a response
so theres online anyway
You're going to be an electric shock device to prevent stupid kids ok?
ahh he's white i can
must do coursework, must do

and i hate with love!
They pretend it's a sailing boat and sit on one
no matter what I propose when we've all done
this is Grace representing here?
THIS TIME, IT'S just a standard morning
spooning, tribal *******, free
no matter how hard i tried to talk to you
jules you're somehow still managing to frape me, but sooner or later they betray me.
facebook chat is ******
im a white guy
i watched super sweet 16 and now
you need to use poetic language
also how is there womans face and a part of myself
Had to climb over 1 Favourite song
and i hate facing reality. they ARE Reading This
just gotta finish this
But Post i'd like to see!

to clarify, I was screaming 'wheres my wisdom teeth are notifications???
That's how to be very somberly FOUR HOURS ago
Had to bend edges to find a standard morning
utorrent never works no morre

anyone whos doing ANY REVISION?
*** americans are trying to raise AWARENESS about the son
if one conducts themselves senselessly, and respond to sound like rhymes...
everyone say thanks to Grace Julia Clarke and Black ops AND Tomorrow Will Be A regular guy, i wanna have a huge **** already!
jcc May 2015
b:\>blackonbothsides**
my alignment may be left,
but what i-m saying-s very right,
we-re always getting high,
but we don-t achieve new heights
i got this verbal glock locked and loaded,
so you know this whole audience in my sights

so our mind-frame may be the same plane,
but we-re on separate flights
day and night, the hatred b/t us blacks
rocks me the core
in school, we fail through
the easiest courses,
our reign in the motherland used to be so,
that the royal heir-s crown circulation
was tighter than most corsets

even back when they whipped the backs of
my ancestors,
when the blood was wet and coursing
modern day enslavement was being
set in motion and
some say to me,
"your cadence is like a ******,
stop trying to force it"

how so when i have this
rhythm and river flow
that can-t be found in faucets?
we lost it, our way has never been
the same since our civil rights gains
and tremendous losses, in the media,
were lawless monsters lacking a conscience

why do we only mention black people
in the illuminati talks?
i tell you what, i haven-t forgotten
that reagan ran iran-contra
man, it-s bonkers, crazy how we sold
our souls for a few dollars

black women twerking like they forgot
sarah baartman
ever since the 60s,
our growth has *******
we emerged as a race of progress,
but now all i see is problems

we aren-t erasing problems, right now,
we are a race of problems,
now how we gonna solve em
when the ink scars go deeper than
the reach of solvents?
racists beat me and embarrassed me,
but that just made me stronger,
so how you gonna rain on my parade
then expect me not to blossom?

we wanna be ******, hoes,
pimps, jump-offs, and playas,
funny how we didn-t get out
slavery too long ago,
yet chains and whips still dominate us
***;? that song was not a coincidence

a black woman saying chains
and whips excite her?
no artistic freedom for our black artists,
authors, our writers?
iggy azalea can be all she can be
and still be a "great writer"?

that couldn-t have fooled me in the slightest,
the highest risers and high officials are
working in the dark so heartless,
this proves that the worlds governed
by a power so awesome
i am just asking for protection from
premeditated arrangement of the "free" market

these arms races is the united states
and other nations displaying whose
bullets can go the farthest
this poem goes out to
the leaders and followers,
skeptics and believers,
the weak and fatherless
i hope this speech reaches the
rest of populous,
i-m a martyr, so let me
hang free for the audience

to me, this microphone is a living being
that i choke and never let breathe
but i-ll never let a mac-11 ever represent me!

i told my little cousin, “don-t you believe in
that ignorance you hear in the streets,
if you got a brain, you ain-t flippin' ye
or palmin' your heat,
and don-t you listen to all the
words you hear from elites

so if they are gunning for your head,
duck under the beam; so if they are
coming for your throne, civilly disobey,
don-t you let them take your seat,
“and once you-re in the race,” i told him,
“you better run on your hands
so you never see defeat.”

after i was done droppin' this knowledge,
this prolific deposit, he thought of
all the things i stated,
i told him, “our potential is far beyond the confines
of traps and the cages
so pool your wages and don-t conform
to the way the media portrays us”

so b/f you get the inclination
to declare that by my word choice,
i must be half white,
i-m pleased to let you know
that i-m black on both sides.
j:\>
jcc_
Bowie
left town
blasting off
from a
Lafayette
rooftop
his ***
spewing
a rainbow arc
liberally
sprinkling
Gluten-free  
golden glitter
onto chichi
Houston Street
bistros
liberating a
fawning glitterati
eager to prance
about a
shanghaied
High Line

for a
NY second
the best dressed
homeless dude
in NoHo
spotted a
Pale Duke
apparition
fluttering over
a posse of
faux
figurine
graffiti
splashed across a
Banksyless wall
tagging the
sunny side
of the finest
neighborhood
car wash

a ghostly
Lou Reed
dressed to the nines
in sleek
Transformer drag
watched
chuckling,
scratching his *****
humming
the final bars of
an Eno
inspired
Perfect Day,
marking odds
when a
long overdue
Iggy Pop
will crash the
Pearly Gate
mosh pits

Ubering
through
the choppy seas
of urban sludge,
lightning bolts
streak down
the sullen faces
of cash strapped
honey dippin
lust for life
hipsters,
luxuriating in
a well nursed
millennial
angst
stew

Fun City's
frenzied
bare footin
Little Monster
darlings
imprisoned
in soulless
high-rises,
still a
quarter shy
from annual
bonus time,
pace
white
stained
minimalist
spaces
indulging
notions
driven
by economic
compulsion
to dial up
flush with cash
fund managers
to seek
margin loans
on their
large positions
in alpha rich
distressed
asset funds
while their
diamond collared
Schnauzers
wait outside
the corner
State News
licking the
oozing sores
encrusting
Lazarus's
feet

Ziggy's
lapping tongue
marks time,
waiting for
the stretchy
panted painted
ladies scoring
Iman's
organic rouge
at a corner
bodega

listening to
a sidewalk
trash can
yelp today's
Daily News
headline
"Major Tom
Myna Hero!"
bekighting the next
15 minute legend
a talking
Myna bird
named
Major Tom

the vigilant
Major
alerted occupants
of a Brooklyn
townhouse of
a furnace leaking
carbon monoxide
when he stopped talking
and dropped dead

a veritable canary
in a coal mine story

a special service
marking
Major Tom's
supreme sacrifice
is planned,
in the spirit of
neighborhood
beatification
the family
implores those
wishing to express
condolences
in lieu of flowers
to please occupy
Prospect Park
to drive out
the rapacious
squeegee men
and feed the
hungry pigeons

Bowie's earthly star
may have gone black
but the ashes of his
disembodied voice
will forever
mark the city
like the
ubiquitous
gray splot
ashes of
pigeon
guano

David Robert Jones
1.8.47 - 1.10.16

Well Done Beloved
God Bless and Godspeed


Music Selections:

David Bowie, Dollar Days

David Bowie, I Can't Give Everything Away

David Bowie, Black Star

Jazz Messengers, Wayne Shorter
Lester Left Town

1.17.16
NYC
jbm
maybe I’ve changed
maybe the world changed
maybe both
maybe it’s sufficiently for the better
maybe it’s superlative for the worst

who knows?

I don’t

but those days spent
in dilapidated rooms
were ****** in the
otherworldly beauty of music,
that made us feel invisible
in our own little mystical
world of phlegmatic compositions
and we outlawed the vexation
of petty differences and tribulations

under the same pale moonlight,
our hearts were accompanied by
borrowing time from the
misery of tomorrow,
being chased by elephants,
and exhausted in pleasure
until we lost control of ourselves
in the beer bottles of perplexity
we talked a lot,
we drank a lot,
we smoked a lot,
Iggy Pop and Tom Waits,
moonshine and tweeka,
tranced in Susanna Hoffs eyes,
you truly were the
dancer in the dark
and sincerely,
those days
can not be beaten,
outdone
or relived
again

although
my best friend
is beyond the sky
by now
the remembrance of
memories and the
feelings of presence
makes me tremble

you were priceless and irreplaceable
but even diamonds turn to dust,
even diamonds turn to dust

and this is the end
of all dreams
yes,
the end
of all
dreams
To my closest and best friend who passed away 3 years ago.
Gavin Paul Boehm Jul 2013
knock* knock
hi, we're the forgotten sons of punk rock
the product of one too many shots of Jello
with the Kennedys...
or was it the Romones...?
who knows we were all too ****** at a tv party that night
when Henry Rollins got into a fight
with some misfits and
minor threats
but I'll be ****** if by the end of it all
they weren't just a big circle of jerks listening to ******* down the hall
it was about this time that Johnny Ramone reached into his cereal box to claim his prize
and then
right before his very eyes he held a pair of x-ray spex
he put them on
but there were no effects
so he took them in his stiff little fingers and tossed them out the window
they landed near a gang of four addicts
who had just gotten high off some leftover crack
now... some may say that these guys have bad brains
or are simply sub-human
but we know for a fact that these are the unseen reagan youths who got swept under the carpet
and are now stuck in a metaphorical tar-pit
that we call their lives
but thinking about all that was putting a major downer on our night
so we turned away from the window sill
only to see Patti Smith baking gorilla biscuits for a night at the drive in
with Johnny Rotten and Iggy Pop
and I think they were gonna make some new descendants of punk rock
all of a sudden the party was crashed like a dance hall
and in our door stood 999 brooding adolescents
--and one screeching weasel
this once again set Henry Rollins off, with the Glenns (Danzig and Ginn) not far behind
there were some jawbreakers
and choking victims
and some dead boys were piled in a corner
but eventually everyone was sedated, we all embraced and we hit the town like a bunch of bigwigs
when we got outside, we couldn't believe our eyes
propaghandi polluted the skylines
for the now D.O.A. immigrants getting off the U.K. subs and the asian floats and the african boats to see
posters promoting the discharged germs from the media
pamphlets selling their bad religions
and banners telling us to be the agnostic front that allows a corrupt regime to keep a hold on our country for 7 seconds more...
those seconds turning into an eternity
of a government who would trade fresh fruit for rotting vegetables
so we decided to end this reign of fear
and put into action Operation Ivy
because we have our rites too
we're in the spring of our youth
so lets get a little socially distorted
we must rise against and raise our anti-flag
strike anywhere the conflict leads our dag-nasty cause
let that fire inside burn like a sunny day in an albino compound
let it fuel your bouncing souls
land a punch for the guttermouthed kids with their jaws wired shut
and if they still refuse to listen
**** painting the town red
we'll paint the world black
maybe then people will see the light
Brian Payamps Sep 2015
Dear Amber Rose,

El pueblo unido jamas sera vensido.
(A city united would never be beaten)
"Half naked and I'm still not asking for it" - some crazy chick

Poem begins:
You are preaching women empowerment.
Dress how you dress make your self feel ****
Even it means wear nothing while walking in the streets.
I get the motive of your movement **** Walk I guess that's what we should be teaching our daughters.
But if you're dancing on that ***** pole now that's a different story.
Tell us how many ***** you had to **** to make it to the glory.
Hard to preach to a generation that glorifies strippers and undermines knowledge.
I am so pro women but **** like **** Walk and so on are the reason we are separated
men and women segregated.
Your biggest concern is what next party you are hosting, while these young girls are all confused about their bodies getting liposuction.
Trying to be you
Trying to be you
But why? when even Wiz Kalifa depicted you as an object and didn't glorify.
***** is power between the right pair of legs.
Tell us how many motel sheets have you gotten wet.
Such a shame our ancestors probably turning in their graves. Lauryn Hill wasn't naked and sold more then Nicki, Iggy, and Kim combined.
The real definition of a role model
Guess that's why you differ
Since you're a *** model.
To ***** licious to be a runway model.
But perfect for the *** shot I want to spray up in your mouth model.
Then go kiss your son with the same lips you rocked the mic model.
Women rights is not about a dress code.
Is so much deeper but what can be expected from a stripper.

El pueblo unido jamas sera vensido.
(A city united would never be beaten).
El pueblo unido jamas sera vensido.
(A city united would never be beaten)

Sincerely,
A concerned father
I believe men and women should be considered as equals buy history has proven me wrong. There's a way to go about this fight and way way deeper than clothes and what women wear. Is what you call yourself and what you represent and how you represent it. I'm a victim of a single parent house hold and my mother never ever had to undress or degrade herself for dollars. I was born in the wrong generation this is ridiculous on how we look up to these people who really don't do anything for you. All fights and not fought fair but always fought right. Women died for this cause.
Busbar Dancer Feb 2017
I want to be friends with Glenn Danzig.
We can conjure up some evil.
No lesser imps
or minor demons though.
Only a meeting with
the capital “D” Devil
because Glenn and I would command such an audience.

I want to be friends with Glenn Danzig.
We can giggle like schoolgirls
when Chuck Biscuits sits on that whoopie cushion we left out for him or
finds a fake, plastic eyeball floating in his coffee mug.

I want to be friends with Glenn Danzig.
We can go on the “Punch America’s Face Again” tour.
We wouldn't be singing in our slimy baritones on this road trip.
Just passing out black eyes
like Halloween candy.
Leaving a trail of busted noses and
broken hearts
in our wake.

There would be sleepovers.
Glenn and me
with Iggy Pop, Johnny Rotten and
the ghost of Peter Steele in attendance.
Ouija Boards and light-as-a-feather.
Peter Steele would always win.
He is a ******* ghost after all.

We could give each other nicknames:
Goodboy Glenn and The Big Dill.
maybe a secret handshake…
Nothing too elaborate.
Just cool, y’know?

We would text one another
after the season finale of The Walking Dead:

Darryl needs to die he’s not even in the comic but it’ll probably be Michonne there’s no justice on T.V. for cool black girls this show has just been a study in emotionally manipulating its audience since the beginning anyway why are we the only ones who see that

Why are we the only ones who see that?

Are you listening Glenn?
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2018
/          in a world where people can't fathom to usher in a monosyllable: like no? it's not exactly nigh-nine equivalent to the german nein... people have to say tak, ja, yes, and never actually imply ha-yah borrowed from hebrew, i.e.: "the" wisdom... seems pretty ******, in all non-circumcised honesty of holding a fake of a petted snake *** shepherd's staff: with what was once tongue, and sword of moses... and then some linear busy bodies of geometric time-lapses into confining a stable-table for a philosopher's mind... but mainstream media... ah... what luck! people choke! choke! on having to say such a simple "word": given the other words, but... a syllable, akin, composing nothing! what a marvel... frankie, in the 21st century, contrasted with iggy pop, and john coltrane humming through the thick, background pact of it... like a catholic choir-boy taking revenge... oh sweet, sweet: sweet pleasures of today!


let's put it this way...

   if beer is: the **** of the gods?

whiskey?

            the **** of titans.

wine?
    do i really want to hear
the jesus metaphor?

      and as one truth concerning
speaking truth:

             nein.

that's not how the libra of male
drinking habits works...

        either boy juice beer,
or tongue numbing rattle-snake
bite...

     ****!
   too much iggy pop and not
enough frank zing-tra-la-la
                    gets you all... fuzzy!
kneedleknees Sep 2016
**** poetry when I could be in a bed
with you         no unfuck poetry
because how else could I enumerate
your tidal wave hair rising and crashing
under the light of my moonbeam fingers?

**** tv when I could be at tate street
coffee        on saturday morning livid
with jazz hopped up on the best **** cup of coffee in greensboro sharing bass notes with a caricature of iggy pop and you.

no unfuck tv because that's the way we spend our tuesdays          giggling
up in high definition with a freshly packed bowl and your head on
my belly tired as tires pushing 85 on 85 for 85000 miles but netflix leads to chill leads to naked leads

to my tongue to your belly's favorite cavity leads to **        ly **** hallelujah! if anything **** god and
the devil **** yin and closed fist yang **** bodhisatva **** dharma and the other things i dont know **** the big bang because the
universe we **** into creation is a rainbow balloon

bursting candy confetti compared to the one we leave when I, all hands and ribcage, am allowed to share your bed.
another poem about love and ***
Lookin' back on a memory
I seen the treachery scorn from.slavery
No realness that's what I feel.in me
blacks performing without the make up
take a look around you coonin' for you
the audience is the trick elites can **** a ****
if that ain't feelin' my ****
I shake up Hells Pits
I'm telling the truth open up ya eyes
I can't compromise
this new ******* settin' us back centuries?
Did Malcolm Martin and Edgers
die for free???
Naw lookin' at the black community
with an hawks eye view look how the new media spew
pawnin' off all this garbage *** new pop
emcees whites wanna be like me
so bad they glamorize off us
cause they kids can't feel us our real **** bust
play only old school records
that's my taste
eradicatin' smiles off corporate elites
pushin' Black face



Now some say the past is the past
how when I keep gettin' a newsflash about the past
twelve years a slave the help now the butler
I despise the ******* muthaphukka
and they say I'm racist I spit the truth
so what if it comes out chopped tooth
blowin' brains on the roof
once the topic is dropped **** all these phonies givin' them.props
I swear these nigguhs be actin like cops
steadily plottin' and waitin'
See a brother rise consciously he's suddenly
look down upon as an enemy
to America's epitome
yo I don't let the ******* worry me.bury me
with no name no tears to follow
I'll be remembered today but forgotten tomorrow
but my young thugs you can make.a change
powers in mind and pistols my word hit like missile
blowin' minds like land mines watch me climb
to the top though I'll be labeled
as a hater lil deebie riff raff iggy is straight up trash I know there greater
talent on the earth my own kind can get the shine
but these white youth puttin' Hip hop on the flat line
**** these company's pushin' Black face without the make up
look at Andy and Amos straight racism
now wake.up
black America they lockin' us down
and we ain't even makin' a sound
sometimes I wonder if it worth dying for my peeps
I rather conversate with the dead
like they still here feelin' no no fear

in this black face world
******* mornings coughing up grey phlegm
Phloem and Iggy’s Stooges walk on the wild side to dirt
Playing in the background  
Smell of rubber
Bands and angry men singing
***** words and healthy birds outside the window chime in
Getting skinnier
Having bizarre twangy renditions played out in the mind
And laid flat on keyboards in bat-swarmed attics
fantastic dreams of large cocked sailors
Muggy Mondays sold with a half bored flourish of enthusiasm
I know you cried

yourself to sleep last night, again,

curled up in your bed, in a child's pose,

cursing the new day.

You might not have the perfect nose,

nor the body that boys want to have a go,

your **** may be small, and

you don't like ******* ****,

in back alleys,

nor at strangers' parties,

your father may be absent, or not,

and your mother may be a drunken *****

and i know you get teased a lot,

for god's sake these are all good reasons to cry sometimes,

but only sometimes.

My advice:

Read a lot, until your eye lids drop,

read Shakespeare, read Tolstoy, and read Poe

listen to music, every day,

listen to all the genres, from all the ages,

from Beethoven to Iggy Pop.

Indulge your self in the arts

and understand different cultures,

and travel,

travel all around this magnificent little blue orb,

and learn to speak different tongues.

Fall in love everyday, and make love many times,

and devour every new day.

and as the years go by, you'll eagerly open your eyes.

-kypros koutsokoumnis
NeroameeAlucard Jan 2015
Oh honey you seem to have mistaken me for a toy
I refuse to fall for your thinly veiled ploy
I'm no puppet, I'm no one's pride and joy
much like Iggy Pop, I'm the one the world's forgotten boy, I think is what he said
What you did too me miss succubus still needles at my head
You used me to get back on your feet, then ripped my heart out to leave as food for the buzzards,
stone cold and dead.

Are you surprised I'm alive?
I'm surprised somewhat as well
considering you put me through what any one would consider the average everymans burning hell
But now, after going through that pain I finally found some measure
a saving grace some may say, I happened upon a much greater treasure.

because all though I am the world's forgotten boy,

I can still search out those that hurt me, then proceed to mercilessly destroy
Written for someone I once considered to be wife material...
Tyler King Oct 2015
I saw David Johansen's straight boy drag queen heart bleeding for the state of being he left the scene in - the euphemisms weighing down the airwaves like bricks chained to the ankles of those selfless enough to take the plunge, the chaos of energy turned to profit margin and the makeup all cried off as the lights go out over the once holy cities
Richey Edwards' truth was carved to his flesh in no uncertain terms - this is real and this is happening and you are just as responsible for it as I am, the Prime Ministers guilty and the preachers guilty and the divine street youth guilty and that guilt was all he had to pack in his suitcase when he left them all behind forever,
They all watched Iggy bleeding from the nose on the pavement in the rain and they all walked away because they had their own **** to deal with and I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't have done the same,
The fight is not yet over, Trotsky closed his eyes believing the fight was not yet over but he never could've imagined how right he was, and the walls of the mausoleum called to me in my acid flashback dreams:
This is the gospel of collapsed veins and broken synapse - the Rapture clocked in at 0 Revolutions per minute and the message scribbled down from whatever could be picked out of the static
Take what you need from this place and go,
If you burn bright enough they will one day count your shattered visage among these lost martyrs -
But that's a fate I wouldn't wish on anyone
David Flemister Nov 2016
Floored
Box-spring
Table sugar don't look the same
But the nose knows no bound
Bounty
Hunted
Need a hit, smack,
whatever
Don't care hit me

Needahitneedahitneedahit its my fault
Iggy pop rock
***** of speed

Intravenous **** throw a party body's just a  canvas for splatter usurp a twerp and burp
hairy don't mean unkempt just a choosy bide hang low
Sell sell sell don't use sell use use use use use
Give up start over swimmin

sorry ma'
MaddHatterQueen Feb 2018
3:22a.m.,
on my second pack of iggy's,
smoked by the minutes counting
you're not here by my side
to hold me and watch stars
fall out of place like
the places where our mind dwells
and my breath in what was fresh
for the kiss of your lips
and put a hold on to the smoke
in my head of you
our first night apart
things are something of some
painfuly hard to mend

3:25a.m.,
no, I AM pacing
my neck weary and weak
too much for this head of mine
to hold up all that clutters
streaming down my chest
like liquid fire from explosion
tensions play poker with my heart
and you're still not here
to help me live up to my feet
you go one way and I
I stay behind taking in the stabs

3:30am,
amzing how I'm whipping throught this
pieces I chicken write-...vandalise

my pen and I drop another line, yet on these fresh sheets
.. no, tonight we had no choice
since the choice was already made
no, It's not a break up
just one of those nights I let you
spend away from me and
I am just being so dam n selfish
just wanting you eaveryday
how do you see me now
taking a bat destroying what is
in my way thinking I care
.... ****!
like I do
go ahead act like it don't **** me
it's just anxioty,
attacks come around friendly
without handshakes that insults me
and my feet crash on glass
and yet, I feel nothing

... but you

3:35am,
mornings **** like manson
like the devil himself
it consums me in this home
where I make animals
look like nothing wild
and the neighbors can hear me
crazy they would claim me
and you're not here to hear me

3:37am.,
another smoke to pop in my mouth
and this house is smelling like
a drug house I had created tonight
when you come back home today
whatever time that may be
I'll be screaming and crying
like a crazy *** *****
in an un-womanly like tantrum
Like as if I hadn't hurt losing
another friend the other day
and on top of that you leave me
in times like these
this is the first you've done
so wrong to me
yet to me in my mind I may be
losing it completely
expressions say so much
on your face where I feel like
slapping you hard like I
want you to really hurt!

3:41a.m.,
even poetry stares me down this
early morning my, good one
a wife I will be, intentionaly insecure
I want this to go away
far away where I can cast myself
away with the extreme pain
that I'm causing myself
cause you ain't here
and that's all that's playing in my head
that's all that matters to me now
that you ain't in this fducking house
where I THINK you MAY belong

3:44am,
another smoke and many more to come
and this home is begining to close in on me
and this is just another
a.m. challenge for my depprssion
anti-deppressants don't do one ****
and I swim in my head where thoughts
**** me while you're gone.

gone feels like forever
up here is like the twilight zone
and you are the episode
where conflics travle fast.

God! I ******* love you!
this cage is now my dungeon
and now it's 3:39a.m

I'm pretending this is okay
...

(ghasping myself to sleep)
©MaddHatterQueen
Not Worth The Silly Pain:
Mr Xelle Feb 2015
I'm getting on my own nerves,
Me iggy threw the vains where my feelings and my understanding flirts.
The second I do I really don't want,
When I speak to them they just really seems like hate to talk..
But what am I talking about I'm confused my own brain into thinking.
I want what I want but really I need conviction & love something to keep me on my feet everyday.
Qualyxian Quest Aug 2020
Two candidates running for
Ruler of the Universe

God and Iggy Fenton

God dressed as an old man all in white with a long flowing white beard.

Iggy Fenton is a Geek with glasses and a huge pile of Calculus books all around him.

Iggy speaks first:  If elected, on my first day in office: Evil? Gone!

God (with hands raised in desperation): It's not that easy!
yeah I ****** kiesha cole
that's why she said "I shouldnt let yo go"
but I had to flow
to the next ***** hole
Monica didn't "wanna be alone"
so i let her play with my bone
and I can't forget Ashanti
I was "foolish" but then I got "mesmorize "
by her pretty eyes thick thighs
got **** got my **** in a rise
n don't let me see Sade
cuz I'll "cherish the day"
in the same way I'll lay
my pipe in any bad chick
next on my list we gotta Meagan Good
yeah I'll **** her "waist deep"
she'll call me Tyrese
make her a "nasty girl" like vanity
yo im reaching for some sanity but the man in me
ain't done huh
I'll **** Remy Ma just for fun huh
what about Mariah Carey
hit the ***** from the rear
it's hairy, Truman never been a. ***** man
but I'll only gut **** Iggy in her **** dumb ****
even though you ain't black
give her that real BBC
down with OPP see me
running through these "freaks a leeks"
like petey pablo swift flow
back to the **** though
I got dibs on angelina jolies mouth whoaa
**** it good girl don't waste my nut
I got SWV to share it with
and watch the "rain"
fall on thee like im peein'
***** see the little demons
tap dancing I'm Just reminscing and scheming
but things ain't what it seems
yo im just in a dreams hmmmm

Yosef Amaryahu
I got a call me from tweet
she left a message after the beep
on the celluar she
"oops my bad"cuz I had
her fiendin' for the **** cuz I'm slick like Rick please girlies
calm down there's plenty of **** to go around
next I hear a doorbell sound
it's my baby girl mc lyte I made her "cha cha cha"
cuz I put hits on her like Chaka
made her feel good like "Hollywood" then out the door and on my way
I ran into Roxanne Shante
**** she drop the bomb on me
she told me
she was the "real Roxanne"
And said nobody
could **** better than me
I said really? politely I just be me chillin' smokin' Phillies
like playas do Missy Elliot ain't been the same since
I hit her with "the rain" bedsheet stains of her ***** drains
and traces of *******
yeah I'll admit I was a little insane
but not as insane as Lil' Kim
she looked at me grim
told me she got a" crush on me"
and go above the rim
I ain't leon ***** I'm the don
make like flex and I got one on one with these hoes smokin' octimos
one more to go
and last on my list
I got this chick name Mya
"Ghetto superstar"
***** fire heated her like a dryer made her retire
from the bedroom cuz I drilled her thrills sent her
body chills now she
rubbin' my chest beggin' I was ill
sick with it but
I'm just coachin" my teams
chasin' my dreams huh

— The End —