mokomboso
I only write stuff every now and then, but when I do I thoroughly enjoy it! / My biggest passions are primatology and anthropology, animal welfare, mental health, identity and subcultures. Most of my poems contain one or more of these themes, as it's what makes up my life. / Some of it is kind of adult in nature.
There is no room for pacifists
In this world;
It's a militant's Paradise.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 10:34 AM UTC
You, my fellow primate,
Could have been my dear mate,
Sad! It's too late,
Generations distanced our fate
Oh, my dear ape,
Teach me how to groom and shape,
Seems we share so many traits!
With tools and terms, I'd reciprocate
We know how to give and take,
But I don't think we're that "Great"!
We do learn at fast rates,
Not to mention, fornicate!
For now, let's eradicate,
The many lengths that separate,
You from me, my fellow Great,
Here's a fruit, I just ate!
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
Of all the places
I have been
This is the strangest
That I've seen
It is called
The mixed up zoo
where the animals
Just will not do
Exactly what they're supposed to do
That's why it's called the mixed up zoo
Imagine lions in a tree
Not where they're supposed to be
A giraffe who is afraid of heigts
And bats who will not fly at night
I saw a goat who did not bleat
And then I saw a wool less sheep
A zebra who was blue and green
The strangest place I've ever been
I saw a duck who did not quack
I even met a talking yak
A turkey who could really fly
A hyena who would only cry
Geese that croaked like giant frogs
And chickens who would bark like dogs
Elephants with ears so small
You would think they couldn't hear at all
I saw a horse who would not run
In all the day was really fun
Monkeys who could really sing
A snake who bounced just like a spring
It really was a crazy place
I laughed so much I hurt my face
If there is one thing you must do
Come and see the mixed up zoo
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
Man made his house by rolling dirt—
Rock that was flung up from the earth.
Man then planted, course, grainy seeds
After nature made trees, fruits, and bees.
Man soon built fortresses, folds containing,
The weathers grew angry, gathering, raining,
So he fashioned bold cities built upon strands
And great ships laden with spoils command.
The oceans were quarry and the skies gave in,
The plains dried up, all animals were thinned.
And then— man imagined, if only the stars,
With nothing left, must we settle on mars?
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 4:10 PM UTC
i wonder if the doors in the house you grew up in
started slamming themselves to save your father the trouble.
i wonder if you can remember the last time you prayed,
and if you had trouble unfolding your hands.
i wonder if your mother knows
about the collection of hearts you hide in your closet,
i wonder if she could tell mine apart from the rest.
i wonder if your shoes know the reason why
you keep them by the back door and not your bedside.
and sometimes, i wonder
if you ever think about that night when i told you,
you wouldn't need to drink so much if you had me.
but it seems like we only speak when you've got body on your brain,
whiskey in your glass,
your judgement is overcast,
and you know i'm too weak to ignore you.
i learned how to translate your texts
from drunken mess back into english.
i am fluent in apology, but i don't ask you for them anymore.
this is just how it is.
it's not enough for either of us
but ******* it we are not above settling.
so i will ignore her name on your breath,
and you will ignore the fact that this means something to me.
i always thought the first time i kissed you,
it would be on your mouth.
i just wanted to be something warm for you to sink into,
something that could convince you to stay a second night.
but i sneak you out in the early morning,
and you take a piece of my pride with you when you go.
i am left to nurse the hangover from a wine i've never tasted,
wondering how this is possible.
waiting for the next drunk call,
for the next time i get to pretend we are lovers,
the next time i get to live out the fantasy i am most ashamed of.
it is the one in my head where you want me when you're sober too.
- m.f.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
A sexmad young girl with dementia
****** a dynamite stick for adventure
They found her ******
In South Carolina
And her ******** landed in New Hampshire.
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 2:15 PM UTC
People say, "Count your blessings".
I say, "Give me a break!"
Tell me something I haven't heard...
There's only so much I can take.
People say, "This too shall pass..."
I say, "Oh please!"
That'll happen but in the future,
What I needed was immediate release.
People say, "Oh I've been there..."
I say, "Oh really?"
But last I checked I was talking about me.
When you asked, I thought you wanted to hear my story...
People say, "Hang in there, the light will come".
I say, ***** the light! I just needed to vent!"***
You wanted to hear my thoughts...
So listen and allow me to rant!
People say a whole lot of crap.
Because they don't know any better or what else to say.
When all they needed to do was...
Be there and listen... I promise it won't take all day.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
Goodnight ******
You fill me with sorrow;
Goodnight ******
You might die tomorrow.
Grunts and farting make me quite forlorn
But with each dawn I feel new-born;
Goodnight ******
While I'm deep inside you.
Goodnight ******
Let me lie beside you;
Goodnight ******
O what fun to ride you.
Goodnight ******
Straightjacket enfold you,
Strong enough to hold you,
Goodnight ****** goodnight.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
Once I lived deep in a forest
My bleeding heart turned to stone
I disappeared out in the shadows
A hollow tree I called home
I know what it is to be a hobo
Train to train, same house twice
I know how it feels to beg and borrow
To share my roll with scratchy mice
Once I even tried to phone home
But the number slipped my weary mind
And when I finally did remember
It all seem such a waste of time
Do you know what it's like to be a hobo?
Nobody knows you when you're down
Memories haunt you like a cold wind
I was lost but now I'm found
Now I live upon a mountain
High above the raging sea
Timeless, old but not forgotten
This hobo nature inside of me...
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC