#heads
To be the thumb, too sprout, buried blossoms of forgotten dream. Tusomnium… invasive, her nature, thief? Or savior to all untended seeds. Mothered nurtured propagations, once witnessed deciduous leaves. Immutatio,, mutatio, commutatio. Past grasp far beyond Evergreen dreams. A smile, graceful, as to surpass winter’s cold, tender, loving grasp. She spoke. Child I am further, yonder, farther out, Misomnium. Beyond Evergreen dreams, let moss be toes, my child. Let your Roots Be feats, my own. Tuspies, Tuspies. Carry you unto me, upon wind, a drift. further, farther, until at last, Great fabled Meadows, where all gatherers do meet. Tuspies my child. Tuspies indeed.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 1:11 PM UTC
Blood-soaked blue sky
Smell our vinaigrette of helplessness
The honey crying chords of a zillion golden cubs
Roots that won’t die
Bursting through us
Dark crimson walls high
Too shame our innards
Tear-drenched rain
Draining our conscience
Pulling us toward the marble migraine
Where blinded gerents continue the measured deterrent
Of life desperate
Keeping hearts from heads
And minds from mouths
Away from this marble pavement
High up top, in cobwebs of restitched tapestry
Skeleton beast, less beastly in breathlessness...
A surge of sun spurged light in clustered cusps
Blows into this lecher
To carry our vividness
Like pappus in great gusts...
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 7:42 PM UTC
Flip a coin
Was it heads or tails?
I bet it didn't land on its edge.
Apr 10, 2025
Apr 10, 2025 at 7:21 PM UTC
Even if it's heads or tails
either side You always win.
Your own system never fails
ev'rything else wears out thin.
____________
Oct 28, 2023
Oct 28, 2023 at 2:44 AM UTC
Something is about
To happen that
We are not aware of
Our only chance
Is to keep our
Heads low and
Act like we're
Changed men
Because we're
Very close to
The end
We need to be
Okay with mysteries
And the stories
They breed
There will always be
Far more questions
Than there are
Actual answers
In this universe and
We need to be
Ok with that
Jun 27, 2023
Jun 27, 2023 at 1:27 PM UTC
I found a penny face up.
I flicked it off because luck doesn't exist.
At least not for me.
I picked it up and turned it to tails.
If I can't get any luck no one else can.
People say misery loves company,
But I'm just tired of things working out for everyone else but me.
I think I'm last on everyones list.
I'm the pocket change in the bottom of a purse.
I'm the last resort,
When people are desperate for some change,
Turning their purses upside down,
Throwing couch cushions,
Hoping for some luck.
I'm a lot like a penny.
But if I were a penny I'd have tails on both sides.
**** pennies.
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 5:04 PM UTC
the severity of the broken minds lays out in the street
in the streets covered in outrageous and unfair drama
drama drawn from within
within the information floating about in the heads of the media
off with their heads is the call from the watchers
off with their heads
Brian Hill - 2020 # 112
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 1:26 PM UTC
Yellow and lime
Distinct in rhyme
Have raised their heads before their time
Wordsworth's words sought in kind
Intent rearranged as the gaze has changed with age
Do Daffodils cheer me up?
Not so vast in a public park
For experience raises expectations
or am I the holder of a colder heart
further inline set to depart
A voice stored inside reminds
with a twinkle in his eye that
'Variety is the spice of life'
Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 12:55 PM UTC
Making my way up town,
chaves all-round.
And single mums with multiple
fathers wondering
with pushchairs around.
And the kids miss there dads,
one of there
multiple other half's..
but mummy doesn't let
them come around.
Staring blankly ahead the crack heads
head off to the job centre to
collect that Jiro that'll be...
Be in there arm, and they need it,
and they want it now.
But the dealer got busted
before there next round.....
And people stare and wander if they'll be
pretending to be homeless,
scrounging for those lose coins
to get there
next fix injected down.
Making my way up town,
people passing me by,
So many people walking around there
cant be this much dole dosers
walking around.
I sit on a seat and watch the world
pass me by.
And I, and I just wonder
how many kids are walking around the town
when schools open.
Yet I see them chaving around,
the country is doomed,
as I see them plodding aimlessly
around ..
This is me making my way up town,
and I wonder if I'll get mugged
by some ****** that can't get a
job cos there benefits pay more than my
full time job makes,
But I still need this watch,
but I wonder if I hadn't battered the
**** out of this **** would I have seen tonight.
Making my up town knuckles bruised with satisfaction.
That I made my way up town, and I know that
I'll smile in the crowd because ill
be proud after my shift
that I come home to you tonight.
Jan 11, 2020
Jan 11, 2020 at 6:04 PM UTC
A waivering head
With memories coursing though every finger
A grip on sleep once lost
Is held directly in hand
Though it cannot hold a candle to the perfect dark
But to pay the waking watchman's toll
Over and over again
Is no good for a weary traveler stead
Instead it's said, once lost in dreams
Such a peaceful hopeful magnificence
May be never found again
Let alone remembered upon awaking
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 5:37 PM UTC
he's in the news
practically every day
for the things he'll
unthinkingly say
often he's seen signing
a managerial piece of paper
which is very important
in its draper
the heads of other
nations
aren't fond of his
aggravations
the word great tumbles
out of his gob
within every sentence
that word he'll lob
when he finally
moves off the stage
will it be filled by
another of his gauge
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 5:11 AM UTC
i've got a lot to tell you
about how maybe
our story wasn't made to be told.
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 12:27 PM UTC
Let the babble stop
Let the brain farts cease
Let pleasure be your guide
And the poet slip into their persona,
Like a performance uniform,
A slip dress
An existential throw up of thoughts like
Bad Chinese food.
The kind that climbs out of Tupperware,
slippers ready
Of Tupperware and ready slippers
***** out takeaway rice.
Performance uniforms sit up in bed,
Babbling about existential poets.
The bad Chinese food
Waltzes with its guide,
Brain dribbles out of nostrils.
Dear night-shoes,
This babble has ceased,
Pleasurely.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 12:31 PM UTC
A penny on the floor,
costing more than life.
For those who pick up luck
have run out tonight.
A penny on the floor,
where others shoes now
collect before curious gazes.
its cold out tonight.
A penny on the floor,
the last thing you see,
is it heads or tails.
The breath of another falling.
Curiosity is never a gift when its obvious.
For a penny is never fallen in jest.
every one cost something.
Tonight its your life,
Tonight its your life,
Tonight its your life.....
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC
Why is this still happening?
So silently, yet still reported;
At great lengths they will go
- to make sure its reported.
Although the Government are in denial,
We are grateful for those who report
The ongoing slaughter of innocent people
Men, women, and children are caught.
Journalists themselves are risking their lives
To tell the world whats happening;
There can be no more dangerous a place
From which to report the sickening.
So where is the world?
The situation is dire -
And unless action is taken
...its going to catch fire.
People are still leaving,
For Tanzania,
A country now turning them back
Back home to face their fears.
But where are the World?
What is holding you back?
How can you just sit there
And ignore these attacks?
For I for one cannot,
And I have no power to act,
All I can do, is spread the word
And hope someone...will act.
Yes there was a time,
When a hundred thousand were killed each day,
That is hard to comprehend,
Not just for me - but for locals who got away.
It may not be happening quite on that scale,
But the fact that it is still happening,
Surely is warning enough.....
And the Government is in denial...
I am worried for Burundi,
But why is no one else?
How can you just sit there
- are you leaving it for someone else?
The attacks are still happening,
Day after day after day,
Bodies are still being found....
Before being rushed into the ground.
Such brutality is hard to stomach,
And I have the stomach for much,
But when I encountered the plight of Burundi,
That was just too much.
I dont know if I will finish this poem,
Because the images I now have are horrific,
So what must it be like....
For those having to live there with it?
Imagine the fear,
The total despair,
And the feeling of more
- that the world doesnt care.
It can be no wonder
That this little country
Is the unhappiest on Earth,
It is so clear to see.
Or for those who choose maybe
To see what others refuse,
Or ignore, or belittle,
Cover up- whatever word you use.
Each day there are reports,
Women and children found dead,
Their throats have been cut,
Bodies lay with no heads
They are ***** they are tortured,
For hours, days, or months,
There are forced disappearances,
- those run into the hundreds.
A machete is no longer an agricultural tool,
It has become a symbol of terror,
It is used to slice, tear, stab, torture;
It is a symbol of ******
What must go through these peoples minds,
When they see someone with a machete,
What was once a necessary tool,
Now been used to butcher so many.
The genocide may be over,
And few even know it took in Burundi,
But the torture, the butchering continues
It continues horrifically.
I am a strong person,
I have read about, seen, and stomached a lot,
But there is nothing that even comes close
To how this puts my stomach in a knot.
The info is there if you seek it,
And please do - its risky to report;
I wonder how much more blood must be spilt
Until someone decides those responsible must be caught
The images they are many many,
The videos they are there too:
But why is it just me seeing this?
Where are the rest of you?
The day I saw the video,
I will never forget,
After what I had suffered myself,
Again I will never forget.
I do not regret what I saw,
For I believe it to be necessary,
Necessary for people to see,
But - those in Government - not me.
Now I have to be careful,
Because of what I saw,
That video put me in hospital -
It triggered something in my core.
It is spread through desperation,
To get a message to the world,
But I was one of only 3 to have seen that,
Maybe rightly so, but also absurd.
Pictures are horrific enough,
Sometimes missing parts are "shaded",
But then comes along another
The shadings not there, its a person beheaded.
But it it not the effect on myself,
Which pains me so much,
It is the fact that this is still happening,
And the world is so out of touch.
I now have to be careful,
But I will not stop,
I wont stop spreading the word,
Until this killing in Burundi stops.
The graphics are hard to put to words,
The testimonies harder still,
But I have tried to help you see,
Without making myself more ill.
The Imbonerakure,
The youth wing of the CNFDD,
Even seeing that word now..
Makes the panic rise within me
For they and the security are responsible,
For the majority of the brutal killings,
The **** the torture, the unthinkable,
People are not even safe when leaving.
They come out at night,
The raid peoples homes,
**** entire families,
While others watch on.
They harass in the streets,
The harass at the borders,
They are everywhere,
Butchering as they are given orders.
The President thinks he was put there by God,
This is nothing shocking I know,
For for Burundi it means a lot,
It means he may stay for ever, death will be all they know.
There are memorials built,
To the many genocides to take place,
Each containing thousands of skulls,
Cracked where the machete went through the face.
Thousands and thousand of skulls lined up,
Of course there are no bodies -
From "Ear to Ear" was how the saying went,
As each head was cut from its body.
It has become so common to find someones head,
Something that for us here would cause fear in itself,
That now in Burundi there are proverbs and sayings,
School children quote wise words from these heads themselves.
Headless bodies float along the river,
Headless bodies dumped in bags with the *******
A machete taken to the throat and then to the torso,
Ripping flesh, drawing blood, organs pulled out of the body for show.
For this is a living nightmare,
Blood flowing down roads and rivers,
Finding a hand, a head, a liver...
Would make many strong people shiver.
People are literally hacked to death,
Occasionally they are shot,
If I ever found myself in that position
I would outright beg to be shot.
The person I saw die in the video,
Took way more than 10 minutes for sure,
As hit throat was cut, he was stabbed, his skin ripped,
His blood spurted violently across the floor
I refuse to go into more detail than that,
For thats the one that triggered me,
I will never watch it again,
But I do want those in power to see.
Will someone please help Burundi?
I feel I have not done it justice with this poem,
The machete, the blood, the horror...
Please help... we all know who is to blame.
We all know....
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 11:58 AM UTC
The talking heads used to sing a lullaby
now everyone dreads when they even sigh.
Creating static that no hands could hope to block out
hiding in the attic but the sealing’s peeled and so has the grout.
I can’t bear to hear another word
of resentment that is undeserved,
even the slightest breath of air
is a kin to irritation I can’t compare.
The talking heads used to compose magic
but now their frowns illuminate something tragic.
A life that pushes me out of place,
my skin, my heart and soul; a waste.
If you’re questioning what these words mean
while you’re reading them on an LED screen
you’ve yet to experience silence’s bliss,
when you do you’ll see it’s something to miss.
Noise cancellation fails the trial,
cars honk and phones dial,
I remember the sound of just the breeze
of damp grass and brushing knees.
The talking heads trapped in my ear
never seem to want to stop.
Telling me all I don’t want to hear,
I beg and plead but each topic they won’t drop
I can’t bear to hear another word
of resentment that is undeserved,
even the slightest hint of a sigh
is too much of an attempt to pry.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
Tick Tock
It's time to wake up.
It's time to burn
It's time to use the kaleidoscope of life.
It is time to flow and create weapons to spread love.
It's time to close the bibles and not talk about idols.
It's time to stop begging for mercy.
It's time to let the girls dream.
It's time to stop regretting lost things.
It's time to use time.
It's time to let the sun burn my skin.
Tick Tock
It's time to wake up
Today we will not go home.
Today we are going to be happy girls in white dresses.
We do not want to look pretty today.
Today we are going to be naked for our skin to breathe.
Today we go to the land where everything is good, where we can scream.
Today we go to a place where people do not talk about the things we do for fun.
Today I want to stop hearing people complain.
Today I want to count the coins that we do not know for what.
Today I do not want to hear people flaunt.
Today we're shaving our heads.
Today we're going to let people blow.
Today we will dream while the moon controls our dreams.
Today we just want to appreciate how the sea is blue.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 7:34 AM UTC
although the election results,
(and his imprimatur dissolving, fading, receding,
et cetera now ranks as old news,
i still feel that adulation beckons cheers
defying odds to win the hearts and minds
aside from this one voter who cast his vote
for a (as he calls himself "mutt" of mongrel -
with no insinuation for denigration)
toward a biracial mortal male who epitomizes
that je nais sais quois ambition du jour
to tackle the multitude of local
and/or global challenges
with his prized defensive team.
no doubt he probably already composed
some rough draft per his inaugural address
(or yours - eminent president elect
if ye happen to be perusing the contents
of this email) will address the outstanding crisis
that confront the home turf
and international world stage
populated with tough rooted quandaries,
which hardly allows, enables
and provides for mushroom to err.
rather than fritter critical and valuable time
to blame or fear for the prior
republican administration
that could be held accountable
for the current morass, i reckon
that tis prudent to expend
the precious sands of time to ameliorate
those most serious issues without resorting
to fear, which machiavellian technique
this admirer begs to differ.
aside from begging to differ
with your philosophy to affect guilt
in other (as like an invisible ****
the paradigm presented promulgated
(in prestigious media resources)
pleases this papa of deux daughters,
which principles of the first
african american occupant of the white house
brings solace within this spirit.
no matter mind boggling and overwhelming lesions
seem to witness this two hundred quarter
plus democratic experiment to hemorrhage
and require emergency action,
i feel reassured that resuscitation
of this body politick will recover
and become restored to vibrant health
thru the confident intervention thru diligence,
intelligence, ordinance, et cetera of (emma)
eminence filled pride without prejudice,
sense and sensibility to become like
some wunderkind in the oval office.
even now (about one month or less)
when that oath taken to heart to uphold
the covenant of life, liberty
and the pursuit of happiness
(as attempted to be codified by founding fathers
of this country - i.e. these united states of america)
stunned disbelief still abounds
within my liberal filled conscience,
yet excited at the prospect
one young(ish) noble representative
of **** sapiens exhibits
much esteemed aura, charisma, dogma,
and persona so pertinent at this juncture
in the history of fifty states who weathered
(yet survived) dramas that nearly rent asunder
the very fabric of this amazing society.
unbeknownst to anyone such as dumbledorf,
estimable magicians with awesome powers
of prestidigitation, j.k. rowling, santa claus,
seers, soothsayers, the wizard of oz, tooth fairy),
la de da to forecast if thine indomitable agility,
civility, electricity, gentility, integrity,
et cetera will be effective to deliver
superhuman feats of accomplishments.
this audacity of hope (telepathically communicated
from dreams of my widower father and late mother)
blessedly delivered some capacity of genuine faith
that seems hinged on the evident decency enunciated
(time and again - ever since ye took
to the campaign trail and now amazingly finds
one gracious honoree to guide the populace at large)
to offer deliverance and salvation.
AMERICA IN DIRE NEED OF A STATESMAN
WITH HIS CALIBER, FIRE RE: ELOQUENCE, AND HUMILITY!
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 10:39 PM UTC
maybe, if it's ok to say now, I still dance alone to the melody you put inside of my mind.
scratches on the splits of a turning black vinyl, a little out of tune perhaps, and skipping to the chorus at times unexpected.
my bare feet jump around this effervescent tune, afraid of taking the wrong step, not following your lead.
and as the song slows, as it comes to an end, I delicately observe the ringing remnants left dangling around our heads...
forever gone, but a hazy redolent all the rest.
-Julia Aubrey Rhodes-
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 11:21 PM UTC