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TIZZOP 7d
back in the days, tales from lauderdale...

yakuzzi gang from oakland park, 308
nightly waves flowin' thru brain channels
the traitor of my memories will judge me
no other day, 38ers, toni der assi, stoogie

two existences, eager brothers at arms
shake em the shake, rip and run, zippas
platin zippos, trip-apache, brave bear
the tents of the past remain as debris

as long as doom's grace feeds us lust
struggle on, lights out, turn me on, baby
shivering is the silver sun at dusk here
and gangsta poets speedin' thru alleys

fat **** frank oversees all oceans, inc.
friends at the thames, partners in crime
the green shining, ultra fresh scent, yeah
bodegas are useful for distribution

nevah, tho', enter these places at night
brooklyn heights, floor 64, 65 & 66 locked
merciless fred, sumptuous leather jacket
cuban necklace jeezy boostah, spiderman

dead blueline pitbulls, ****** cages,
rageful is the age of ours, my friends
sunday's dawn opposes my design
in the corner of my room, hidden
*** GANGSTAPOETRY ***  
        *** 48 SOULS ***
    ***  CREATION 96  ***
Leone Lamp May 6
I'm busy busy busy
I'm late I'm late I'm late
I've got to meet a rabbit
I've got to meet my fate

For if you trip and stumble
And take a long long fall
You might take some comfort
In the writing on the wall

It says the cakes a lie!
The roses never were red!
Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!
The last words that they said

There's no time for fantasy
The world's out of hand
Visit Alice another time
Curse that wonderland

We're living in the matrix
Dot dash, dot dot dot dash
We just have to accept it
As we wait for it to crash

One foot in and one foot out
Abstractify, you lazy lout
Yes, I'm sure reality's an illusion
But I can't afford to live in confusion
Just peeping through the keyholes of the doors of perception.

Also, if anyone is curious, dot dash, dot dot dot dash is "AV" in morse code, which felt particularly appropriate.

~5/6/2021
Harley Hucof Apr 29
Life is all entertainment , just like a psychedelic theater, our thoughts and breath whisper reality into creation.
I roam in and out my worldless kingdom
Freedom's reserved for the wild and untamed.
For who cares to know, we could fly our way out as falcons , or swim our way in as whales. It will never really matter because it's all entertainment , while we patiently wait for the emanations.
Expectations emerge from preconceived notions and blocks the transmissions entitled to all sentient beings.
Like a collective prophet and a magnet , we learn to filter the commands to percieve the matrix. Finally to redefine and recreate a convenient  path that is real.
Our thoughts and breath whisper reality into creation, i chose my fun as transmutation, life is recreational.


Words Of Harfouchism
Leone Lamp Apr 14
Last night, I was exploring sensuality
******* an inkling at the basis of reality
Nibbling the earlobe of the next global catastrophe
Can you smell the Earth as she moans in total ecstasy?
The Universe reciprocates and ******* a galaxy
We're all in this together
And not inconsequentially
Today I learned that consensually is not a word, and I think I'm better off for it. The last line had been "And I hope it is consensual(ly). As my love just reminded me, none of us are here because we wanted to be. That was someone else's decision.
~2010
Leone Lamp Apr 12
Hey there Mr. Natural
With beady eyes, long flowing beard
How’d you get to be so weird?
Is it as bad as we’ve all feared?
Hey there Natch’, where’s your stash?
If I share mine, can I have half?
Perhaps there’s another path?
Nah.
‘Turally, we’re all free
To be what we’re gonna be
So tell me Mr. Natural, what’s it all mean?
“It don’t mean ****, young man.”
I met Mr. Natural in San Francisco in the Summer of 2012. It seems the real guy and the comic book character came into being individually of each other, but right around the same time. Must have been something in the water. Oh, to be a comic book character, alive on the streets, in the 1960's.
~2012
Leone Lamp Apr 12
The psychedelic outlaw had class
He had a kaleidoscope bow-tie
Accentuated with brass
His custom tailor three-piece suit was white
But now no more
For the swirls of patterns and colours
Would send him down in lore
His cowboy hat was paisley
His six-shooters painted day glow
And the guise he wore
Said nothing more
Then, “Hell, I’m ready to go”
For the pearly gates
That some await
Will be dipped in a neon glow
And his favorite band will be playing
It'll be one helluva show.
~2011
Leone Lamp Apr 12
Mr. Bojangles,
Contemplates the angles.
Modern minds infinitely entangle
Simple strings and fluid streams of thoughts
Are getting ******* in knots
Not in a naughty way, but in a party state
Where people get to tell the time to clocks
Skipping rocks
Across the surface tension, in your office
Chip your dips in the swivel chair in the corner there
Please
Excuse me
While I try to explain to these birds why they’re not free
On a wing and a prayer flag TV set
And I always forget to mention what’s relevant.
Most of the poems I've posted so far I've written over the years. It's nice to be able to organize and formalize them here. This is one that's been jangling around in my head for over a decade now.
~2011
mark soltero Apr 5
here we are
our ingestion to stop time
you and i
beaming for me
your gaze of comfort calms us to shore
to be safe
to be beautiful like you
captivating me with your purity
flawless rays of effervescent emotions
shine and bestow blessings for us
that are oh so holy
fated i am to explore your ocean
lost was i without your smile
doomed without your touch
you burned a hole in my heart
where you now live
inside of me
like the sigh of release
with me entering your soul
your pleasure is my desire
i dont want you like the boys before me
Mellow sunrised.
The dew of the afternoon high light.
Paradise sunset.
Tuscany, Marigold, Chartreuse, Caramel.
Amber, Copper, Olive, Saffron.
Honeycomb mystery of rejection... or doubt.
Freedom sparks; feet and hip dilate and constrict; lips close to feel the colors and open again, blinking to suffocate the oasis into the dull reality of smog and soot, of cemetery.
The psychedelic picturesque star stares back, dusk-like fireworks of heaven gained and lost.
One second that sealed his fate.
Death will be hazel eyes.
This is an extra poem I wrote after finishing my anthology, trying to explore a new style of poetry of almost pure imagery and sensory information.
She was a pretty little girl with a jaded brain
and movie stars in her eyes
From a little town in northern Maine
where dreams fizzle out and die

She was looking for a Casablanca gent
to match her Ingrid Bergman looks
But all she found was me - her discontent!
Her face was like an open book

I paused to read and
she proceeded
to tell me that we had no chance
Before her mouth could shut
I jumped onto her tongue
and asked her if she'd like to dance

We waltzed into a secret fantasy
like our dreams were intertwined
She was blowing pink bubbles with her chewing gum
and it just about blew my mind

It wasn't long and we were lying on the floor
My shirt had come undone
For a workaday girl from a quiet town
she sure knew how to have her fun

Before I buttoned up
she handed me a cup
I drank and I asked for more
My head was swimming
like a salmon when
I watched her walking out my door
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