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Lexi Dvorak  Oct 2014
Coconuts
Lexi Dvorak Oct 2014
Coconuts,
Fall from the tree's,
Knocking passerby's unconscious.

They can give us sweet milk,
Or what the locals would call "meat",
But I'm pretty sure this isn't the kind of meat I usually eat.
Zazou  Nov 2014
Coconuts
Zazou Nov 2014
I've got a lovely bunch of Coconuts,
deedly deedly,
There they are standing in a row,
*** *** ***,
Big Ones,
Small Ones,
Some as big as your head.
Rachael Apr 2016
dear stereotypical people,
you make me sick.
i mean, who are you to tell me what i can and can't do because i don't have a ****?
why do you think that this is a rap? is it because i'm black?
because i live on an island, i must be wild and uncouth?
and whenever i speak my mind, i'm another rebellious youth?
dear stereotypical people,
you see my glasses and call me a nerd?
and make fun of me because I know of words you've never heard?
oh i'm sorry, that i took my education seriously.
and i swear if another person says 'girl you're so tall, you have to play ball.'
i'm gonna run head first into a gaddamn wall.
dear stereotypical people,
why do you trust the white man in a suit but not the black man in the hoodie?
is it because he looks cleans and exudes goodie goodie?
dear stereotypical people,
please mind your business
which i'm pretty sure doesn't include how that teenage mom and her child are living.
dear stereotypical people,
why do women that are open about *** make you wanna run away?
i mean, i'm pretty sure it shouldn't matter what she does with her body unless she's your wife
my God, why can't y'all let people live their lives?
dear straight men that lust over gay women,
NO WE DONT WANT TO ******* WITH YOU
**** it, we like the same thing you do!
dear people of the world,
yes I live in the Bahamas
no I do not live in a hut, eat coconuts and go on the beach every day.
dear stereotypical people,
i promise i don't hate you
i do hate how you look down upon people that live differently from you, that see differently from you, that think differently from you.
i would hope that you know that this world does not revolve around you, no one will stop being who they are because of you.
don't get me wrong, some people hurt because of what you do.
just think about how you would feel if it were you.
my prayer is only that you think before you say.
and maybe one day, you'll all see the error in your ways.
another piece I wrote for spoken word. but man, I FELT this COMPLETELY. Enjoy :)
Alan Dickson Oct 2013
I wish I were stranded on a tropical island
A tropical island with you
You could make art from coconuts and starfish
Yeah, coconuts and starfish might be a good place to start

And I could build a crude instrument
Out of a conch shell and driftwood
And tightly roll a papaya leaf to use for a string
Or two
Then I could play and you could sing
We wouldn't want for anything
Serenading each other by the light of the moon...

Every evening we could snuggle underneath the stars
You could be Venus, I could be Mars
We could lay our differences aside (except the good ones)
I'm safe in you, you're safe in me,
No need to hide

I wish I were stranded on a tropical island
A tropical island with you
And we'd bake clams in the hot, hot sand
Under the afternoon Sun
And brew a crazy chowder using sea salt and kelp (help!)
Then we'd make love on the beach as the water nips at our toes
Under the setting sun when the day is done

By a waterfall I'm calling you...
For my 'feline' love
MY FROG MASTERS

How thoughtful were the rainfalls
To water our gardens and flowers
The flowers spread wide garments
To celebrate their terminal beauty

The joyful frogs occupied my pond
To orchestrate their vocal prowess
They taught me to take blind leaps
Like lightning bouncing in the skies

Squatted, stretched, beeped down
I was a millstone on the pond floor
My slippery pond mates wondered
How soft I was in the maritime arts

Mortally rescued in a muddy mood
The clouds sent in rescuing showers
To confirm my firm loss to the frogs
Like a grain of salt cast into the seas


673. MONEY BAGS IN THEIR BODY BAGS

The money bags shopping for their body bags
Waggled through the makeshift supermarkets

Their ancestral homes they plotted modernity
Like the general gathering fine forces together

To the villages they made to return with pride
Like pregnant elephants caught up in the mud

Their desolate villages are deep and sickening
Glowing flamingly in the crucibles of local gins

The dusty and gravy pathways are like furnace
Burning the leather off from their frozen souls

Traditional birth attendants cut off their cords
And zipped the money bags in their body bags

674. A GLORIOUS DAY

The new day spoke powerfully
Like a war making superpower
And his voice roared forcefully
Like the skies forced to shower

The sunrays came dynamically
Like love responding to silence
Beauty crawled in submissively
Like the mixed arts and science

One eagle soared energetically
Like lions feuding in the colony
Far clouds relocated peacefully
Like souls betrayed to harmony

The breeze sighed thoughtfully
Like horses galloping on the lea
Inspiration unfolded thankfully
Crowns monuments with a pea

675.  THE FOG BANK

The sun had gone to pay our bill in the fog bank
The world foggily crawled into the strong rooms
Darkness demonstrated her strong mindfulness
Provided for the strong gale with lurking shrieks

The black paint billers snowballed to our dreams
With the bill of exchange for wild sunny excesses
Ghostly bats emerged with the bill of indictment
In demonstration of our acrophobic dispositions

We packaged the sunrays for our folk memories
To reassure the day of our eternal followerships
We cherish our follow-throughs in our dark beat
To usher the sunlight out of the hollow fog bank

676. THE PROTRACTED INTERNECINE FEUD

These things had happened before we were born
Like sulphur deep into our fresh hearts they burn
Now we stumble on the bumpy terrains in horror
Like one frightened by ghosts in a standing mirror

The internecine feud has razed our men of valour
With their carcasses dumped in their cold parlour
Our community cattle graze in the barren pasture
Like the unrepentant sinners awaiting the rapture

For our plight the once glorious sky is grown pale
Like the ***** fetching territorial waters with pail
The storms have rolled off the catalogues for rain
All our efforts to mop up the mess end up in vain



677. THE AREA LEADERS

They cracked coconuts on the heads for the crown
And embraced our days with their castaway pollen
Sadness and sorrow have dyed our garment brown
With the strongest song sung when night has fallen

These are the blinding dusts from our barn’s grains
They breed cunning serpents in the soft pasturages
They are failed cargoes on our broad societal trains
They dedicate our common committee to outrages

Now our days seek deliverance from their tentacles
Like the colourful fields immersed in gloomy beauty
They play our eyeballs with the stenciled spectacles
With our consciences to sight and found us off duty

To rescue us the colossal clouds were born gadarene
Our communal life was willed to pageants of gaieties
Then moonlight stories held us for a larger gathering
Now all the objects we sight dress up like cold deities

678. THE LAST DESCENDANTS

The rapacious thunderstorms ***** the skies for their tears
The hot embers were born to glow mourning the late forest
The moon crawled out of the blue like a great grandmother
Cuddling her descendants wrapped up in her ancient shawls

The wild waves were weird weavers weaving withering wails
The captioned wigs gyrated on stunning shoes upon auctions
The little creatures crouched in primeval baskets of the night
To gnaw at the generational tubers in the creative farmlands

The dazzling specimens of dentitions relaxed in water basins
Like bright red artistic architectures on potent ocean boards
Golden hearts glow in the threatening prisms of the furnace
As beautiful sunset defines her beauties in her nightly corset

It had been a sweet pill for the past descendants to swallow
Depending on the colonial masters for loaves, lore and lures
Our creativity had been packaged in their mortal depravities
Like the tranquil days resting sorrowfully upon the dark oars

The centenarian thunders downgraded our minute whispers
We had been kept upon our toes by the eternally sworn foes
At last our worthy artworks have worn their wormy catwalks
The refreshed dawns greet our easting days in their greenery



679. VICTIMS IN THE VALLEY

The victims in the dark rally
Caged, dried and browning
Therein their meanings tally
With waves born drowning

In the depth of a cold valley
Horrible nobles are cultures
Like pilgrims in the dark alley
Willed to ravenous vultures

The victims all robed in tears
With hearts like potter’s clay
For pains they have no fears
Only mimed games they play

For victory awaits the victims
Alien to a blind mimed game
Glorious are eternal rhythms
For death Christ died to tame

680. THE GIANT SCARS

These are our giant threatening scars
Engraved on our demonstrative heads
Our sympathies crawled on superstars
Weeping for us on their moonlit beds

They threatened us with nasal sounds
Like thunderclouds seasoned to burst
For us their galleries are out of bounds
Behind the iron bars plagued with rust

Our patience passed their wildest tests
Like the lions roaring in the thick jungle
On the heart of the Lord our faith rests
Like numbers posted on the right angle

681.  A LADY

In a lady’s handbag
Is her hidden hunchback
Stuffed with her heart ache
For the pains relieving groom

In a lady’s tender smile
Is hidden miles of similitude
Marked with the zebra crossings
For the ever winning marathoner

In a tender lady’s heart
Is hidden her cowboy’s hat
Soaring within the white clouds
To soothe the earth with the latter rains

682. BRING BACK OUR GIRLS

Bring back our homesick girls
Their vacant cradles are bleeding
Bring back our innocent girls
On the chariots of fire descending

Bring back our suckling girls
Their feeding bottles are weeping
Bring back our infant girls
Their mothers’ ******* are heavy

Bring back our harmless girls
The united universe is thundering
Bring back our dewy girls
In the sharp sun rising in the skies

Bring back our beautiful girls
Like light plucked from darkness
Bring back our glorious girls
Aboard the shore-bound waves

Bring back our worthy girls
On their fresh faces our lights seek to glow
Bring back our living girls
Our fountains of joy are bubbling to burst

For our returned girls the skies shall bear
Roaring rivers, singing seas, chiming clouds
With gongs and songs, pianos and praises
Dulcet dulcimers and documentable dances
With healthy hymns and eloquent embraces
All nations shall into a common cathedral flow

683. ****** GENEOLOGIES

They electrify their demonic high tables with old fears
Only their ****** genealogies are bookmarked to reign
The sight of their portables whetted our eyes to tears
We are reinforced by the clouds born to the later rain

Our skins have renovated the sickening cattle wagons
With our dreams flying upon huge smokes in the skies
Beneath their tables we abridge their creaking jargons
Upon their floors with our generational landmark tiles

The dew drops dropped like old crops upon our brows
To soften the veils falling to the flaming edged swords
The flaming hearted sword of the penetrating sunrays
Born to pluck us alive from our hotly bandaged bruises

684. LET US SPEAK UP

The light is climbing downstairs
And danger is sprouting abroad
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

The light is melted on the glades
And terror grazing our eyelashes
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

The light is late and lately buried
The mourners are on danger list
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

The light has divorced the grave
Her grave clothes are dew dyed
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

Silence is a forgotten tombstone
Lost in the din of cold morticians
Our feet are listening for a word
Let us speak up lest they go deaf

685.  THE SUN

The sun smiles on all prescriptively
Like the waves spreading on shores
The green grass glows descriptively
Like the full moon upon dark sores

The sun is a tailor fixing the buttons
Preparing the sky for incoming stars
Like the weaverbird weaving cottons
To conceal the day’s damnable scars

The sun is a marker on diurnal pages
Tall grace he bestows on the flowers
The sun retains his graces for all ages
Bees and butterflies are his followers

Our common laughter is endangered
When sun bows down in big setbacks
All mortals have the starlets fingered
When the night comes on drawbacks

686. UNTIL HERE

(For Lou Lenart and his team)

Their floods came seeking Jewish bloods
Like streams they roared for our dreams
They emerged as columns of soldier ants
Like whirlwinds they zoomed towards us

Until here we were crumbs for the reptiles
Until here we were like airborne cloudlets
But here the sudden change unveiled to us
From here the elusive victory embraced us

With skeletal jets we fought like bold lions
Soared like eagles and spoke like thunders
We conquered columns of invading armies
The bleeding armies turned back and blank

From here we turned from victims to victors
From here enemies’ defeat our greatest feat
Upon this memorable bridge it all happened
Victories leapt upon our pool like joyful frogs

687.  JOY UNLIMITED

The fledging sun offers its rays
And the rays offer golden trays
For our joy a platform to spray
Rowdy paratroops like thunder
To scoop roses from pure oasis

Our joy is ripe upon celebrations
Our celebrations with decorations
Decorations with documentations
Documentations for all generations
Generations in our joyful habitations

688. ANOTER RAINING DAY

The dark clouds are wandering river basins
Spiral bounded by breakable outer casings
The rivers and the seas display empty cups
For the swift blessings descending the tops

The rains come as defense troops’ missiles
And the drowning lands look like imbeciles
Now we are groaning in the watered claws
With the liberated scales marking our flaws

The retreating clouds crawl away in a belch
Dumping the missing cargoes on the beach
The winds bow in a state of shock in a cord
Praying and fasting for a visit from the Lord

689. GRANDMOTHER

Grandmother, please wake and get up
The sky is quarreling with her husband
Soon they will spill their freezing sweat
On our bodies for us to catch dead cold

Grandmother, please sneeze not louder
The sky and her husband are quarreling
Soon they will send old floods like gales
To sweep mankind away from the world

Grandmother, you are everything I have
My moon, my sun and my morning stars
Provoke not the couples with your cough
Lest they refill their greasily wraths again

Grandmother, the big reptiles have come
With their lethal grandchildren following
They are laced with secret burial shrouds
With sympathetic tears tearing their eyes

Grandmother, I kiss you a shaky goodbye
With broken pains roaring within my soul
Grandmother, where are your groundnuts
To conduct my solo heart as you sing away

690.  A NIGHT WALK THROUGH THE FOREST

Lured away on an alluring dream by fables
I trudged along the grassy paths with fears
Upon my steps spilling the prevailing dews
The shadows bowed their heads in silence
Like the soul issued with a death sentence

The night crawlers emerged above boards
Throwing light upon contrary communities
In their hearts and eyes were painful tears
Crawling down their exaggerated eye *****
Like a handbag filled with rotten cosmetics

The shadows were bold animators’ shelves
Stage managing the horror motion pictures
In the ghostly commodities I met wild hosts
Lifeworks evaporated from my fresh breath
Like foreign tragedies in common comedies

The sorrowful shadows cast away their veils
Like the candles letting go of the weird wax
Sadly I sat in the sack for conflicting fetuses
Another sun appeared like a serial divorcee
Counting the testicles of another naked day

691.  SUBJECTIVE SUBJECTS

The sad sun descended upon her haunting melodies
Reeling from mysterious layers for electoral riggings
To harden the flowerbed for flower girls born tender
Disenfranchised voters came weeping in barren polls
Dressing the blank nest for the fat electoral parodies
With the mourners the faulty bells they came ringing
Like the angry water castigating a ****** port fender
And the smokes climbed upon their wide aerial poles
Arching over the emptied shelves with liberal singing
They subjected their subjective subjects to all objects
There, in God’s country, the benign ruler
Had promptly burst out of the earth’s bowels.
A sea of coconuts smothered, sultrily,
The most unwilling moss-painted houses
The banyan raised its feet high enough
For hundreds of creepy monsoon-creatures.
The journey  began in silver slanting rain
Waiting for streaks of pure white sunshine
To crawl through upright areca nut barks.
As the telephone wires went up and down
A floating bird quickly froze in the sky.
First the coconut fronds ran to the hills
Then the chilly plants , go red in the face
Inside, they of the uncertain *** beat the wind
Out of their joined palms in forced cadence.
The floor-mopping boy under our large feet
Looked with money-wetness in his brown eyes.
The train went spluttering for lack of puff
While gravel stones hit its forbidden parts.
one lazy tropical afternoon
in June,
a green coconut fell
from a 15-foot tree
in my backyard

a tree I'd planted a few years back

not in a climbing mood,
I grabbed a 10-ft pole
and stabbed the bunch of swollen nuts

stab...
stab...
stab...

then my neighbor yelled:
'pablo, pick one for me..'

and I turned my head
towards her voice,
then back
up

the green coconut fell
from the 15-foot tree
in my backyard

and landed on my face...

~ P (#Pablo#PC)

(8/10/2013)
And I have the scars on my upper lip to prove it....
I remember our first date vividly you had your lustrous black dress on that displayed all your curves supermodel figure, shoe game was serious fashion killer had your hair in them short curls smelled like coconuts eyes were sparkling reflecting the moonlight with that red lipstick you were so gorgeous

GOD'S canvas painted in that melanin you could have ruled the world evident you a Queen in my eyes a future bride, I was more nervous than you when we shared our first kiss floating butterflies got me feeling like a little kid, you stuck in my head like a lullaby

Girl what's not love about you got me feeling like Dwele, you such a down the earth chick sophisticated not simple minded girl you stay educted, you into them old school tunes sung you that old Jays hit you're darlin darlin baby, you everything I hoped for in a woman can't be compared to no hoes you a strong Queen with goals, I love the way you get goofy when you start laugh but that's only when you comfortable, or when your eyebrows twitch when you get ****** I study your mannerisms, ain't nobody eles I love this deep you make me complete other girls just can't compete

Girl U got me
Girl U got me
Girl U got me
Girl U got me  (voice fades)
Laurent  Mar 2016
Happy Holi
Laurent Mar 2016
Year after year
purity of fire
is challenged by evil,
appeased with offerings

A full moon looks on
as winds stoke embers,
flare flames
to a flickering dance

Right in the center
of crimson blaze
sits Holika,
Prahlad in her lap -
her arms a circle of heat

White sparks fly from her hair,
eyes smolder in fury;
her mouth ***** in air,
engulfs rice and wheat

Wood chars,
coconuts splinter,
flowers singe
smearing earth with ash.

Year after year
faith survives.
Holika burns to death.

By Unknown
Holika Dahan also Kamudu pyre is celebrated by burning Holika, the devil. For many traditions in Hinduism, Holi celebrates the death of Holika in order to save Prahlad, and thus Holi gets its name. In olden days, people use to contribute a piece of wood or two for Holika bonfire.
On the eve of Holi, typically at or after sunset, the pyre is lit, signifying Holika Dahan. The ritual symbolises the victory of good over evil. People sing and dance around the fire. People also perform parikrama of fire.
In spite of being such a colourful festival, there are various aspects of Holi which makes it so significant for our lives. Though they might not be so apparent but a closer look and a little thought will reveal the significance of Holi in more ways than meets the eyes. Ranging from socio-cultural, religious to biological there is every reason why we must heartily enjoy the festival and cherish the reasons for its celebrations.
So when, its time for Holi, please don't hold yourself back and enjoy
The next day people play Holi, the popular festival of colors.
In India, Holika dahan will be on 23rd march 2016: 18:30 to 20:53, Duration = 2 Hours 22 Mins
Rachel Baines Jun 2015
She’s the girl who you'd always run back to,
You’re the boy I’d always run back to.
She’s the girl who gave you the chills with her beauty,
You give me the chills with yours.

It’s funny how times change,
People you once loved now become strangers.
But- she’s a parasite,
Always latching onto you and taking what she can.

A symptom of a parasite is disturbed sleep,
She disturbs my sleep.
When I close my eyes I see her eyes,
Staring into yours.

One cure for a parasite is coconut oil,
But no oil or remedy will remove her.
The thought of her makes me aggravated,
Intimidated because really I’m giving her what she wants- you.

I’d like to say everything was fine until she came along,
However, she was always there.
We are smooth like foundation,
Then she comes along, our plates collide and the bumps in the road grow.

Now, I’m not one to gamble,
But I bet you’re talking to her right now.
Sorry I mean, I bet she’s talking to you,
Because we both know she can’t get enough.

I know you feel bad for her and I know you love me,
But why do you feel the need to type to x’s and give her promises I’ll make sure you won’t keep.
See, bless her, she’s having trouble moving on,
Clearly she loved you more than you loved her because you turned a page and started writing a new song.

The girl doesn’t threaten me,
I know we make each other feel new.
The only thing that makes me hurt,
Is how you aren’t letting her get over you.

You compliment, flirt and put kisses,
Just so she stays tame.
But to her you compliment, flirt and put kisses,
Because you clearly want her again.

She’s the girl who you'd always run back to,
You’re the boy I’d always run back to.
She’s the girl who gave you the chills with her beauty,
You give me the chills with yours.

One cure for a parasite is coconut oil,
You know her a lot better than me.
Maybe she’s allergic to coconuts…
Maybe.
The great hanging weak **** of India
on the map

The Fingernail of Malaya
The Wall of China
The Korea
Ti-Pousse Thumb
The Salamander Japan
the Okinawa Moon Spot
The Pacific
The Back of Hawaiian Mountains
coconuts
Kines, balconies, Ah Tarzan-
And D W Griffith
the great American Director
Strolling down disgruntled
Hollywood Lane
- to toot Nebraska,
Indian Village New York,
Atlantis, Rome,
Peleus and Melisander,
And

swans of *****

Spots of foam on the ocean

— The End —