#stick
i hoped you would change just a bit
i was naive to think it would stick
you said you would get better if i stayed
but you never gave me space to think
i watched you drink on anti depressants
i watched you smoke joint after joint
i wondered if you were happy here
or just filling a void?
i wondered if love was founded here
or something you avoid
you said you didn’t like me
burn and then ice me
you said you loved me
but your words aren’t sufficing
Oct 23, 2025
Oct 23, 2025 at 7:27 AM UTC
you switch like nintendo
the games you play are cruel
words imprint like a whip from a kendo
i was chasing the thing i should let go
peace is a breath away
i took myself serious today
Jul 4, 2025
Jul 4, 2025 at 12:45 PM UTC
Words may not break bones,
but they sure enough can break
souls
Dec 16, 2024
Dec 16, 2024 at 9:19 PM UTC
If you walk, you slip
If you stop, you stall
If you touch, you stick
If you drop, you fall
In the eternal,
In the eternal now.
If you give, you take
If you kneel, you bow
If you dream, you wake,
If you seek, you doubt,
And when night shadows blend
With the light of the dawn
Remember to forget
That you've come to depart
In the eternal,
In the eternal now.
Oct 29, 2024
Oct 29, 2024 at 7:04 PM UTC
I failed all my poetry
by belching words
that isn't me
I bob and weave and stitch the
seams
adverting mental catastrophe
with one eye flush and one eye
shut
I spew the jargon that lights me up
I post it here I post it there
and hope it sticks and fills
the air
Oct 26, 2023
Oct 26, 2023 at 1:25 PM UTC
I'm walking the tight rope,
holding on to the stick
like it was hope.
That is how we get through life,
walking all alone
with just that one person
constantly giving us hope.
Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 3:46 AM UTC
He takes up his walking stick,
looks up as if surprised to see me there and smiles,
and together we take the baskets, and walk the stairs,
sharing a well-worn joke and a laugh
and we count, we stack, we tally
and we bag the coins, the notes,
all meticulously accounted for,
- another echo of Sundays past with taller stacks
and notes that knew how to behave better
and then after two signatures he takes his stick,
looking to wrestle Cath from her chat,
and go to get some dinner.
He takes up his drum sticks,
doing the count by instinct and,
with a coordination I can only dream of,
provides a dependable back beat, off beat or up beat,
all in a groove you just have to love,
from a throne that’s all his and his alone
behind his well-worn drums,
- all an echo of Saturdays past
with stage lights, later nights,
and delighted crowds,
leaving me to thank God
for servant hearts and patient servers,
for lives lived well and long,
and for John, whose beat goes on,
whether with two sticks and his kit in the sun,
skin deep and soul deep in the same beat,
or holding one stick, with a fresh joke to test run
(or perhaps on repeat), but always laughing
comfortably keeping time, 90 years young,
walking with his King.
Jun 20, 2022
Jun 20, 2022 at 1:12 PM UTC
None but he who calls me, me,
thinks of me
as doer of
the deeds we see were done, or
must have been done,
ere I was error there of, as
beauties, if such do yet make
plans for chances I can take
as hope, sent deep to meet me,
as has been done, hoped over
plans, in me, object I point
at you. See, we are they who do
say you see the banner wave,
o'er the legendary home, aye,
of free and brave, learn-
ed and led by the learned away,
to find the me who started
thinking things we say are prayer,
this, nada mas, this we have
as we think, we have, this we,
I, me and you. Please be real. Amen.
The out of body designation,
after life, after ever once begun,
rounds the bend in time to find you.
That is mine, you said to he-
he who calls me, me, he may be
too dense to pass through, solid state.
Activated Intelligence,
see the odds, gads, scads of
notta chances remain to test,
may good enough to try, get by,
as among the best, for umph,
at the last wish in any set of three
kinds of minds full of found
ways this could occur or happen
to seem felt right, enough for now.
- the binge, a novel passtime,
- focus, intent, on hero stories fit
- slicker than snot to viral ideas…
We sneeze, sometimes in threes,
all the breathers who think in me terms,
studies show we mostly sneeze in threes;
------------------------
we get vaccines in threes, and we live on
Between April 26 and July 10, 1954,
volunteers distributed Salk's series of three polio shots….
From <https://www.google.com/search?q=first+polio+vaccine+roll+out&oq=first+polio+vaccine+roll+out&aqs=chrome..69i57j33i22i29i30.9668j1j15&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8>
Dec 20, 2021
Dec 20, 2021 at 1:35 PM UTC
Though no stick
In the forest
Is perfectly
Straight
But are
Broken
And bent
And deteriorate
A Man
Comes around
Who loves
To create
And He takes
The crooked
And draws
Something straight
.
Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 10:28 AM UTC
In falls moonlight
when down and out strikes
nocturnal
candles
burn
saving a world
from
bad
turns
through
storm and blizzard
are
few good spirits
and
friends
who support good ends.
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 1:11 PM UTC
Sadly , most of the kibitzers are the houseflies sticking randomly to anyone unlike a few who genuinely drown in the worries of others.
Sep 27, 2020
Sep 27, 2020 at 10:46 PM UTC
___Stick girl embering,
Lollipop meandering,
Molten toffee trail.___
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 10:53 PM UTC
They tell me to stick to my roots
because roots lead up to shoots.
They tell me to stick to my origin
unaware of how it acts as a prison,
My roots are Draupadi's hair that was twisted and lugged,
my roots are Panchali's saree that was tugged.
My roots are Sita's wrist Ravana wrested,
my roots are where Ahalya's chastity rested.
My roots are parasites that eat up its own herb and ****
my roots are rat snakes that eat up its own tissue and meat.
My roots are flames of fire that created and watered the plant of Sati,
my roots are pools of blood and long ropes that drowned and hanged LaxmiBai and Moolmati.
My roots are the dish misogyny flavoured with patriarchy,
my roots are naked streams of Ganga washing off their lynching and anarchy.
My roots are all the poison Shiva drank during the churning of the sea,
my roots are Dhritrashtra's aspirations and ambiguity.
My roots are its own herbivore,
my roots are the lava that burns its own floor.
And my roots are my flesh and bone,
so I am stitched to my roots altogether, all alone.
So as I cut my own roots, my roots chop me,
hence I stick to my roots while my roots remain free.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 4:00 AM UTC
Stick to whatever,
She told me.
Get it wrong, right
Or do not.
Flee to your scarier
Shelter,
One that is easy
To spot.
Drink wines
From glasses
Of doubt,
Worship your
Local canons.
Stretch them
Within and without,
Stan the unpardoned
Of lords.
Having it all
Given to you,
Acting completely
Exposed,
Trophies in pain
Excruciate you:
None of them **** you,
Suppose.
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 4:03 AM UTC
I don't mind the way things are
I have some new friends
We're smiling again
Things are better for me
Life keeps moving
Feb 3, 2020
Feb 3, 2020 at 10:59 PM UTC
it’s my fault really
I gave you the sticks
Taught you how to throw the stones
and you broke me .
Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 10:21 PM UTC
sticks and stones
have broken my bones
but your words
Always hurt
Worse.
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 11:23 PM UTC
this sport is played
at a leisurely pace
no-one playing it ever
seems to be in a race
some are good
at the short game
whilst others are better
at the long
during the tournament
strokes will be calculated
to make sure the score
isn't deflated or overrated
what stick shall
you employ
on the course's
tricky ploy
oh the ball has just landed
in the thick vegetation
it scattered the birdies
which were sitting on its plantation
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 7:43 AM UTC
_Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words can never hurt me_
Words can't break my bones
But they sure can
_Break my heart_
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 6:46 PM UTC
hey, do ya
think ya
could break me
off a piece
of that
Kit-Kat?
real quick
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 9:51 PM UTC
There once was a man named Rick
Who carried a red blackthorn stick
He flailed it blatantly
that ancient shillelagh
The bataireacht fighter was quick!
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 1:03 PM UTC
If the world should cave in two
I don’t know what I’d do
as I’m not Doctor Who
so I guess I’d just save you.
If you’re scared at night
and
if you've have had a fright
would you let me put it right
by turning on the light?
If you graze your knee
I’d give you something on me
my last plaster for free:
all these things I say
are here to make you smile
so you won’t run a mile
and
stick around for a while.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 9:17 AM UTC