My magic smile can play tricks
Be warned my charm quite often sticks (around)
Now on the count, you’ll see
I’ll make her appear,
then disappear, on three

‘buckle my shoe’
let’s do
That always works better
Look! I smile, See!
My, oh my...
what do we have here
a very pretty volunteer

Ladies and gentlemen
Welcome to centre stage
This beautiful woman
I wish to engage
Pulled her out
without a hat
Watch, I’ll make her vanish,
just like that

(Drum roll)
So now for my final trick
A wave, a wink
I blow a kiss
Shes up to stand
I flick a lick, upon my lip
Presto! there you go
sleight of hand
with the words,
“What a dick”
Here’s another poem I’m struggling to title, so many directions...pls help with any suggestions? The winning title will recieve a follower! :) thank you in advance
You complicated a compliment
on how good you look
hid yourself behind a book
Rolling away your skeptical eyes
You peered and took them as some lies
I said “It’s true”,
but seemed you didn’t care
So I continued to share
nice things about your nose,
and then I mentioned your thighs
It was then you took offence
‘Like it’s not the most important thing’
And in my defence,
I loved everything
But because of some insecurity
I was forced to justify,
what I  see
Even as a man
Even the way you stand
And your slender legs and hand
How I love your creases and curves
Every vein, muscle and nerve
Such fine shape, figure and form
How much they keep me warm
And somehow all this charm
Was only boiling up the calm
and there you broke out in a storm
When I said, “Your hips,
are better than your lips”.
It was the last time I’d see
You ever again that close to me
you got up and walked away,
I’m sorry
I regret
all I did was shape history
Where’s the line?
6.4.18 //
They say misery loves company
I never once asked for the seat beside
Me to be filled
Palms drenched
While spotted digits
Poke and prod at my privacy “No rights, no voice”
Assuming “my place” in “your home”
False prophets, empty words
Kneeling for a man
Who refuses to acknowledge my pulse
I told you not to lay a hand on my body
“Dress down” “Smile”
Forced “Back where you belong”
Razor tongue, I’ve grown tired
Of running in place
Unable to stand my ground
They say dead men tell no tales
But the women always do
So as a siren does
I grow fond of your demise
And grin amongst the wreckage
I heard the footsteps as they came across the road;
The snap of hurried feet outside the house.
Shapes in the moonlight, a voice in the darkness,
A knock at the door, I heard the dogs barking.    
The bleating of the flock,
The chatter of the birds omongst the trees,
I recall the whisper of the morning breeze;
Hyphening the broken silence as two boys stole about the house;
It was midnight in August 99.
Two sparks set out to chase the bang!
Bang!~ set them running.
I cut them down!
I cut them down!
I heard the sirens as the cops sped up the road;
The squeal of hurried wheels outside the house.
Shapes in the moonlight, a voice in the darkness,
A knock at the door, I heard the dogs barking.
The bleating of the flock,
The chatter of the birds amongst the trees,
I recall the whisper of the morning breeze;
Hyphening the broken silence as two cops stole about the house;
It was midnight in August 99.
Two cops set out to chase the bang!  
Bang! ~I put my hands up!
~and the cops took me down!
The Plea ~
Judge I’m guilty, for everything they said I did; I did!
But there were reasons, don’t you see:
These boys; they were bullying me!
I called the cops on monday,  Tuesday,, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday again; till i was insain;
Two sparks set out to chase the bang!
Bang ~I cut them down ~ I cut them down!
Two cops set out to chase the bang!
Bang! ~ I put my hands up !
~ and the cops  took me down!

Yes! the judge gave me twenty
untill the circus came to town,
As a victim I was lonely
but as a killer I was crowned.
I was King of the castle!
News of the week!
The talk of the town!
King of his castle!
News of the week!
Talk of the town!
Last night, I had to learn to live without you.

Last night, I had every last bit of dignity taken away from me
when a guy I thought I trusted slid his hand up my thigh
and tried to force me to kiss him
because to him, my body was worth the $2.95 that he paid for my coffee.

Last night, you were deleting photos of us from the internet,
distancing yourself from me so that the next girl you slept with
wouldn't see the way I looked at you with adoration.

Last night, I was texting everyone I knew except you to fake an emergency so I could escape before he tried again.

Last night, you guiltlessly fell asleep to the second song on an album you had promised we would listen to together.

Last night, I curled up in bed and tried to imagine your arms around
me to stop my body from shaking.

Last night, I learned to live without you.
Disclaimer, this is probably more stream of consciousness than anything else
Last week,
The Indian Goon Squad....
Was out to get me,
They were stalking my ass
As if I was Beyonce's little sister,
I finally had to get
The Denver Police Department
To get these motherfuckers to stop.
I never knew that poetry
Could incite such a violent reaction
But it's difficult to write a poem
About the gangrape/murder
Of an 8 year old Muslim girl
In a Hindu Temple
That's calm.
Have you ever stared
at a blank piece of paper
for so long
it starts turning into
a concert of unanswered questions
posed by a teenager
who is awakened
about his sexuality
which was long repressed
under the secrets
he was asked to keep
the things he had to hide
the pain he slid under the carpet
with a smile on his face
he was no snitch
he liked keeping
the paper blank
he was a good boy
who could keep things with him
the boy was in deep sleep,
that boy, he was in deep sleep,
and now he is awake
he knows what he lost
he knows what's good and
what's bad
he knows
the world will question him
why he didn't speak earlier
why now
why now
why now
the world will eat him up
but he knows at this point
nothing matters to him more
than what he lost
than what is ahead
give me my childhood
give me my childhood
give me my childhood
he screams
he stutters
he cries
I am done
I am awake
I am free
it's time to color this page black
it's time to turn the page.
BW Mar 16
I paid my therapist £600 for a piece of paper
to tell me what's wrong with me.
I don't care about money, it's just a figure
like the numb large sum
Sitting in my bank account.

How you fucked me up
I dream of you,
I dream a river of red, dyed by your blood
How much I wish I hit you
with that glass, again and again, on the
back of your head, until you fall down
When you locked me in that room
And stopped me in my road.

If I had a trigger, I would have pulled it
a thousand times over. No blink.
they are all wrong. "You were too slutty"
"It's because you were frivolous"
How is jeans and a hoodie frivolous?
Tell me, how is it my fault
for a man three times my age to try
ripping my clothes off
at 16 year old?
It's a personal story, that's all I can say
When Luisa Gomez reached Heaven,
God whistled and jeered.
"Nice Ass!"
"Nice Tits!" he exclaimed.
"You've got legs to die for, baby!"
Jesus tapped God on the shoulder and whispered in his ear.
"Luisa wouldn't be up here unless she was gunned down in a School Shooting, God."
"It was a real tragedy."
"I don't think you should be engaging in this sort of sexual harassment in Heaven," Jesus scolded  God.
God exploded at Jesus.
"Why the hell must you be such a damn prude, Jesus?!"
"Can't you see I'm just trying to have a little fun up here?!"
"I let you establish your own stupid religion....Christianity,"
"And, ever since then,"
"You've been trying to shame people about their sexuality."
"Why don't you go talk to President Donald Trump"
"And leave me to hell alone!"
Jesus felt denigrated and hated by God
He  went down to  Earth,
Entered the White House
And tried to support President Donald Trump
In his phony victimization complex.
DD Hicks Mar 13
Ah bliss! I, the subliminal linguist, can't distinguish this thing that you imply with such meaning. I relinquish my hold and go down screaming.

So, I melt into oblivion because life
is a trivial pursuit I've yet to latch onto, dripping between my fingers
like water through wood cracks.

Is it my own selfishness that burns
bridges between us?

No, it's yours. You stapled a label on me that can't be ripped, stripped, or torn, but I am not your fixer-upper whore.

Does my insubordination bore you?
Tell it to my "commitment issues."
The only issue is I grew faster than you, more masterful than you.

I am not your tamed shrew.

I refuse to be used by you, friendship abused by you and your confusion with your own emotions. I am not an island in your ocean of incompetence.

Frankly, my dear, fuck this.
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