"adidas" poems
#040116
Hindi kita ginamit at pinagkaingat-ingatan
At sa minsanang pagdampi ng pawis ng langit,
Ika’y aking iniaangat --
Malihis ka lamang sa makinarya ng tubig,
Siyang may maitim na balak.
At sa lubak na daa’y, hindi ako patitisod
Minsan nga’y naiisip ko pang ako’y hibang sayo,
Pagkat di bale nang may galos,
Wag ka lang gantihan ng gasgas.
At sa tuwing iaalis kita sa aking katauha'y,
Tila ayoko nang magbagong-bihis pa
Sapat ka na't ni ayaw nang maisantabi pa.
Mahal,
Yan ang turing sayo.
Mahal,
Yan ang presyo mo.
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 10:52 AM UTC
Earlier today, painting was the activity that we had planned
I have a support teacher who would always lend a hand
She had left the class to get the paint all mixed
While I stayed behind to get the toys and props all fixed
She came back and bore bowls of red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Lunchtime I visited a store and neatly displayed on low shelves
Arranged so immaculately as if magically done by elves
Were cases upon cases stitched together with only zips
They almost instantly bent a smile to my lips
Their colours shone brilliant red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Passed by a shop selling accessories and apparel
Merchandise dangled on wall hooks and some in a jumble
On the adjacent wall something caught my eye
Carried all the neat little tote bags one could ever buy
One peeking from a corner was red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Walked by a building, so modern-looking and new
Down on one side almost obscured from view
Were these horizontal rows of dancing neon lights
Stopped for a minute just to soak in the sights
Then I realised that they flickered red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Waited for the bus to get home at my usual bus stop
Whilst waiting, I shifted and from my bag something did drop
Bent over and picked my coin pouch that had fallen out
Looked up only to see another commuter lingering about
On his pack was a sticker which boasted red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Bus was packed, found a seat in the back row
Sat myself down, I peered briefly out the window
Engine under me, I scanned around to those who were seated
Observed the floor beneath my shoes as it vibrated
My pair of Adidas, oh my, they're red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Got home, put my bag down and sank into the sofa
Switched on the telly, on was the Food Network's "Barefoot Contessa"
Surfed through the channels, caught a real estate commercial
Promoting prime land in a country not anywhere regional
Splashed on the screen, a flag - red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
End of the day, it is best that I hit the sack
Allow some rest for my poor aggravated back
But not till I complete the words you're currently reading
I'm thinking, dreaming and furiously typing
How do I end this? Hmm...red, white and blue?
I'm thinking and dreaming...and wishing I'm with you.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
*So I went to the campus today, for the first time in a long time. I smoked cigarettes outside of the the lecture hall with some kids from the eastern block whose names I could barely pronounce. They were talking about McCarthyism in a language I couldn't understand - snippets in English - an American history exam. I cut class again, for a reason I can't quite trace, just lost sight of it all I guess. Or maybe I was wishing it could have been a little easier. They never gave us a course in what it means to try, you know? It just seems as if the only thing that stops us from doing the things we love is a fear of failing at them. Thinking about this on the walk home made my head sick and my heart sad, and so sleeping through the rest of the daylight seemed like a good way to get by.
I met up with the friend, later in the evening, he was at the local venue. He had his hands in his hoodie and his Adidas were swinging over the side of the stage, head bobbing, and rhyming in time to the beat of an electric bass drum. I asked him to buy me a beer and he slid his last two dollars over the counter like he always does when he notices my lower lip quivering. I didn't ask him about the doctor's and he didn't ask me about my black eye. I told him to tell me the story again, the one about the cool kids he met in the East Village and he did, he told me about the whole encounter in the snow, with the lights, and how badly he was shivering. I smiled that type of smile, the one that ends up with your lips curved the wrong way and wished I would have went with him.
The waitress that hates me gave me a ride home again so her uncle could close the place down. I offered her one of those Ukrainian kids' cigarettes that I swiped but she said no thanks, and I was glad I had more. She knew this wasn't going to be the last time she did me a favor, the way my track record was but I like to think she doesn't mind too much. I invited her inside but she said she had to run, maybe next time. She told me to try and hurry up and finish school so I could give her the world, and then she giggled and winked at me before she sped off. Back to bed, I had a long day of bullshitting myself ahead of me when I awoke.*
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 4:11 PM UTC
There's something about that itch
that you can't itch enough.
I feel like when I put on my
Adidas or Nike ankle socks
they just don't do the trick.
My Hanes crew length
feel so comfy on my itchy legs.
They keep my legs warm
when I spend eight hours
in the cold box stocking drink.
However when I wear those
high socks with shorts people stare.
I guess it looks goofy
with my pale skin
that people have to double take.
I bet they ask questions like
"Is that his leg or is he wearing socks?"
I smile though when they stare
because it makes feel noticed
and it reassures me that I'm here.
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 10:38 PM UTC
Imagine all the things I could have been
And all the places I could have seen
I should have married that girl
From Bethnal Green
A beauty queen
So serene
Until the day alcohol ruined my life
Imagine all the books I could have read
All those words now left unsaid
I went out and got ****** instead
Fell down the stairs and broke my leg
10 pints and I’m ready for bed
The day alcohol ruined my life
Mad for it Mondays
Two for one Tuesdays
Wet your whistle Wednesdays
Thirsty Thursdays
Back on the razz on Friday
Just some of the days
Alcohol ruined my life
I could have been professional footballer
One of the greats
And the League’s top scorer
Up there with Bobby Zamora
Sponsored by Adidas and Diadora
Scored an overhead kick
From a ******* corner
Until the day alcohol ruined my life
I should have been a movie star
Champagne and caviar
Me and Arnie in the Terminator
Sunset strip and the boulevard
******* hookers and fast cars
Enough money to fly to Mars
Until the day alcohol ruined my life
The day alcohol ruined my life
I lost my kids
And lost my wife
I woke up in East Fife
On the day
Alcohol ruined my life
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC
My dad shouted up that the
Space Lab was passing overhead in
The next few minutes
I put on my adidas and a hoodie
And stood in the snow and mud
Of the front yard trying to find the
Passing station as it traveled past
Hundreds of miles up
It was more excited than I had seen
My father in a long time
And I was glad to be out there with him
We almost missed it
But I caught it in the chalky
Luminescence of the moon
It glided past easily
And my father shouted excitedly
I stared straight up and took all the air
Into my lungs between the passing station
And my body on the ground
Until it was lost
In the sanguine of the night sky
Like my father's excitement
It passed too quickly
And we ventured back inside
To watch TV in separate rooms
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 9:40 PM UTC
So, up to Liverpool,
pretty cool,
I've got family there, and I'm trying to find my bearings.
When I was a kid I went with my Auntie to the Adelphi Hotel,
I remember it well,
so that's where I'll start, move my feet,
it's a quick walk to Bold Street.
Everyone flocks to the Albert Docks,
regenerated, updated, and has created a vibrant corner of a once-thriving port city,
which is pleasing,
the only downside is it's ****** freezing!
The nights out are decent too,
this where Liverpool really pulls through.
Matthews Street, can't be beat,
or Concert Square,
where, you head to Baa Bar for some shots and a few jars.
Then onto Nation with the rest of Liverpool's student population,
going down to Wolstenholme Square,
great memories, shame it's no longer there.
Capital of Culture, lots to explore,
the council wants to restore the city centre,
Liverpool One is second to none.
New shops to buy our Fred Perry tops,
new bars to entertain us,
new places to wear our smart Adidas trainers.
A modern shopping centre to walk through,
have they really called it Everton Two?
Girls off to the supermarket with their hair up in rollers and wearing their PJ's,
funny looks on the face of people who are new to the place.
Lads in black Lacoste trackies,
in the 1980s they came back from the continent after European success,
wearing Fila and Ellesse,
it was called casual,
the style went national.
A city of myths legends,
some more tongue in cheek but still unique.
A sock robber from Kirkby,
is it the original Cavern Club? Well, to a degree.
What about Carragher's tattoo?
He's blue born and bred,
is Paul McCartney actually dead?
I know it's a clichè, but I must say,
it isn't a mere rumour,
there is undoubtedly a Scouse sense of humour,
wordplay and the inflexion on the things they say.
A witty city that's for sure, come and visit,
you'll have everything you need and more.
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 12:45 PM UTC
Lying on my bed,
Looking at the new dress which is red,
I thought of buying a new pair of shoes,
But then I thought of whose?
Of Action, of Adidas or of some other brand,
Then I looked at the pieces on demand,
Oh finally I had chosen a brand,
But I had an another dilemma,
Which color will look good,
I thought of pink, green & black,
& I found black the best,
But ****
I realised my pocket was already blank,
Then I lied down on bed & decided to take some rest,
& gave up the dream of those new shoes...
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC
My Lucifer, unwitting Muse, dog-eared Vonnegut,
afrobeatnik third eye, howls escaping
from your headphones, wailing about secrets, about infidelity,
about analyzing life until there ain’t nothin’
left. Then you shuffle by in your black and white Adidas,
hair in twists, wearing the striped sweater
of nihilistic intent, quoting the rants of Holden Caulfield
in your blog like you never didn’t know him.
I never asked to know you, to want who I can’t have
when I can’t even love myself. And every fiber
Of my being yearns for reciprocation. What is there
to return? What is there to feel, you meditate on truth,
fallen angel in the parlor of rebellion, blasphemous goodbye,
bright and morning star simpering like crickets in the palms
of daybreak. Your musicality radiates from subway chatter
and overheard profanity down El Camino Real.
I take in your ballad at my post office mailbox,
in the abandoned echoes of daydream monologues.
You’re a philosopher, exploring theory of mind, a cartographer,
mapping the labyrinth of your deepest desires.
Tell me again about desires, demonstrations of divine sadism. Tell me
about human empathy, the animated faces of wordless expression,
the metaphysics of free will, my beginning and my end,
alpha and omega, my fortress in the land of chic.
Blasphemous hustler, let your idealism simmer, your wit, your mojo,
I come to you an amateur, a neophyte, a lowly scab
in the strike against ignorance. Give me my melody, my song,
my one-hit-wonder of all that is cliché and unknown.
But I can’t be the other woman, your girlfriend, your aspiring
Playboy bunny only 10-bucks-a-throw. Your highness-who-yells-
his-ideas-into-the-ears-of-echoes, your every quirk spellbinds me.
Each day I wake to your entourage vibrato.
I am held captive by your brooding stare, empress of liberal
doves. You visit in my dreams when the sky is a force of darkness
viewing light through peepholes, your flaws an aphrodisiac, a love drug,
a fast hit in the basement from the ecstasy of words.
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 5:37 AM UTC
The sun hides behind the clouds
but I see feet beneath those curtains
on a Sunday a girl with short hair and lesbianism smiles at me
You shouldn't mix plaid with stripes
that's like fashion 101
so I walked down the street
buttoning my plaid shirt up
when I fell down a man hole
and a mole man said to me
you shouldn't buy those Adidas shoes
they treat the workers horribly
so I took them off
and cut my naked feet on rust ladder rungs
I went to the top floor
they told my I shouldn't wear my jeans so creased
they scoffed at the words denim
so I took my pants off and made them into a sail
I went to the mirror
and it told me I should fit a size bigger
and that I should probably work out some more
I tore muscular and skeleton systems from the pages of biology text books
and used it for kindling
to warm my cold shoulders
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
I want a nobody.
A faceless commuter swearing as the machine ignores his credit card. Or the guy two tables to the left who isn’t checking his watch because he isn’t waiting on someone. Any hoodie-wearing, adidas-laced, prospective english major rambling along the sidewalk.
I want a nobody.
‘Cause there’s never a somebody that won’t say “I love you” because it’s numbed by too many mouths that don’t form their lips the right way. The somebodies slide it off their careless tongues—
because little words are pennies in tip jars.
But Nobody, he’ll say
I love the way you put on a jacket
like some kind of whip-snap in the lapels and collar
tipping your chin up and
hooking your silver-ringed thumbs in the pockets
and I love how you flip through books
eager to break the spine but not fold the pages
holding your breath to hold the focus
propping open a paperback between long tapered fingers
and how the barista at the coffeeshop knows your face!
and blush rises like foam on your cheeks
because it’s so ******* incredible how
when you drum your fingers
you don’t drum you press
into a phantom piano
the treble clef of Linus and Lucy
or The Entertainer
or, if your eyes have already gotten deeper
—in a mossy well of thought—
it’ll be Augustana’s Boston
dancing C-E-C-E-G-E-C-E
in the jumping tendons of your right hand.
*
oh darling, I’m in love with
your clumsy movements when you fall into bed
wrapping a thick comforter over your bare shoulders
curling your legs as you settle on your side
hair fanned out on the bedsheet because
the pillow’s too close to the wall
but lovely, I don’t love you
because I’m not real at all
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
Just because you have a *****
Doesn’t mean you are a man
There’s a chance you worship Venus
And you just don’t give a ****
You’re a six-pack in Adidas
Or two ******* in high heels
We ignore the hate they feed us
Only counts is what you feels
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
It takes alot
Loving you in these shoes.
It isn't horrible.
The way they fit.
The way they look.
Loving you in these shoes of mine.
It doesn't take much effort.
To slide my feet in.
Tie them, before a single step is taken.
Knowing all that goes unseen.
The padding & cushioning.
The flex of each step,
The urgency of how I long.
Revealing how much I've thought of you.
The many steps and puddles these shoes have walked.
They aren't waterproof.
They aren't well protected from wear & tear.
Loving you in these shoes of mine.
They are far from dress shoes,
Not even close to casual shoes.
They aren't the type of brand shoe everyone is in line to buy.
Stacy Adams, Adidas, Jordan.
Loving you in these shoes,
No one knows where to find them.
How many times they've come loose.
How many times the cushion has been replaced.
Loving you in these shoes of mine.
Knowing you've checked the tags of the name brand shoes.
The appeal of readily available colors
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 2:18 AM UTC
He left her with two of his favorite sweaters
one t shirt ,a pair of jeans and new Adidas
Yet he had no intention on returning.
In the first week of waiting
she would fold the clothes in a corner
smiling foolishly to herself
thinking of how he would have
something to wear when he returns.
In the second week of waiting
her smile started to fade
Shed sit in the corner of her bed
with one of his favorite sweaters on and wait.
She found a little reason to smile again,
for the clothes still carried his scent.
she would crawl in her the corner of her bed
and draw the hoodie strings and
suffocate herself in soaked sweater sleeves
till she drifted off to sleep.
In the third week of waiting
she washed his clothes
for the scent was overwhelmingly repugnant.
now they belonged to no one
She laid the clothes out on the floor
placed a cigarette in her lips and lit a match
threw the flame to the floor
and watched the burning man
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
When I look at you,
I remember my last Summer.
When I spend a day in Rome,
that day was so hot,
I was wearing stripes tee and Adidas cap,
Not a cute outfit, I admit.
Under the Sun, I walked by the crowd.
it was Fontana di Trevi
throw your dimes into the fountain, they said.
one dime, then you will go back to Italy.
two dimes, then you will find your true love.
Well, I've been always a fan of this superstitious thing,
Whenever I find a wishing well, or anything that will grant you a wish,
I'm on it.
So I turned my back to the fountain, and I threw two dimes behind my shoulder.
All at once.
And this Autumn, I have you.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 11:51 AM UTC
There were four noticeable things,
maybe that's why I picked him out
of more than two hundred people he was it,
the one I though was
oh how to put it,
cute I suppose
His lip piercing screamed
I'm a rebel
His brow piercing shouted
I'm different
From the red, black, green, and yellow head phones
to his
Purple Adidas high-tops
He looks well, you could call them average
but those piercings made him
so much more
they said notice me I'm different!
His headphones said I listen to hours
and hours
of music
But most of all,
the thing that was the most amazing
were those
purple Adidas high-tops
His head moving with the beat said,
Wanna listen to?
Those chocolate brown eye whispered
I can listen
The hands constantly fidgeting spoke,
I'm never boring
His fingers flying over the keys of his phone typed,
I'm connected!
But those shoes
I'll never forget
Those purple Adidas high-tops
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
A ***** hybrid clouded his voice;
a southern drawl
and Midwestern daydream.
Mutt to himself, a fire to others,
a redundant reverie about a home
-- any home --
with pictures of bloodletting,
forgetting mothers, Adidas clad feet
belonging to hooded killers.
His hands sway in church
but his soul doesn't.
No belief in either concept:
God or soul.
Annoyed with the Christian claim
that one needs the other.
He speaks a voice that echoes,
then evolves into a rarity
too tame to flounder and fight,
too wild to sit and stare.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
last English class of the day, hoodie on, earphones on, Modest Mouse Ocean Breathes Salty, sun half-way down, subtly setting, slight breeze, hold down hoodie as I walk, half-empty parking lot. a lot of halves. many things empty, never the mind. language is strange and fascinating. there is a single brown leather boot in the center of the freeway’s entrance cross walk. I notice this, it moves me. lost soles in the city. I image myself getting run over by a passerby, a single navy Sk8-Hi left behind. everything is a story. Del Taco drive-thru, two-for-four fish tacos, I’ve given up on any other kind of meat. Pescatarian I’ll tell them from now on if they ask. It doesn’t make anything better, it doesn’t undo what’s already been done, but at least I’m not contributing to the damage. At least I have that choice. Teenage girl in red beanie, black Adidas joggers, spray can in hand. It is Thursday, this is the city I live in. The Strokes released four new songs today, I signed up for their mailing list. I might go out for dinner later on, but until then I’m not anywhere else.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 10:48 PM UTC
I ask Trevor why he carries around his passport
from when he was 14
as his only form of government I.D.
It's for cigarettes
he says with a shrug,
and takes a drag from the passenger seat
of my car.
He reminds me of someone
who shouldn't be in this era, a misplaced Kerouac,
and at any moment
would hop a freight train
or subway car
to pass through someone else's life
in the time it takes to turn breath
into carbon.
Trevor, I say,
you know you can't get out of the country with that. It's expired.
I know,
he smirks.
I just like the illusion that
I'm going somewhere.
There's a sad sweetness in the way
he keeps his heart
in a list of area codes;
that home is synonymous
with an expired ability to leave
the way a seagull takes to ocean breeze.
I don't know what he'd do if he actually had the chance.
Trevor's passport
is nearly filled with other worlds
he prefers,
and other lives he's lived,
in only a leather jacket
and a pair of scuffed up Adidas.
I keep wondering
about the day he'll turn us
into stamps to include in the rest of his collection,
squeezed into one of the few blank spaces left
in a crowded itinerary,
(cemetery),
and then
he'll renew his passport.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 11:14 AM UTC
Tethered Trademark, bequeath your Solicitor
On his Casual Space your Contract allow
That a Touch of Light, an Addict's Stalker
Twice-tight the Wrench his Trend will dis-embow
For concrete his Plans to level the Stars
And make Gold-Glittered Sailorettes his Friends
Must you Interfere with Shoe-Fingered Bars
How he must Manage and make good Amends
Pray, for your Profit's Insure, spare his Life
To the Innocent Lad his Limbs were meant
Though aware - his Monthly Duties - in strife,
Paid his Timed Dues with your Pocket's consent.
Now kindly in Respect, bid his own Break
To tie his own Shoes, for the Riper's sake.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
One of these days
There's going to be a snapback
That says
"Be different"
It will become the most popular snapback ever
In the history of date ****
Snapback sales will skyrocket
And every single boy
In Marysville, Washington
Worth his spit
Will be wearing a snapback that says
"Be different"
And no one will think twice
But the one boy
Who doesn't wear snapbacks
Or Nike
Or Adidas
Or Obey
But who dresses
Different
Than anyone else
Will get beaten
And teased and shunned
By boys wearing snapbacks that say
"Be different"
Clutching lies in their ****** fists
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
it was buzzing
near the lights
i wanted to take the life out if it
but i waited
"Patience pays"
i waited
i turned off the lights
and went on to take a shower
i came back
and saw it cringing on the floor
his wings managing to flutter but not strong enough to lift him up.
took my Adidas
and hit him hard
***I was satisfied with the ****
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
He shouted
the music booming
smoke like tendrils around her face
tiny tremors marching beneath,
the same ones that led him to this place,
the ones that pointed to Her,
Her,
always Her.
Her,
the one beside the bar
Her,
the blue eyed specter with leather boots
Her,
the final note in the euphony known as Saturday night
She shouted back
whites of eyes glowing against the black light,
his faint neon smile revealed,
tiny tremors pushing forward,
the same ones that brought her there,
the ones that brought him,
Him,
always Him.
Him,
the one muted by the music
Him,
the dark haired calamity with red adidas
Him,
the only one to hear the cacophony of night
They shouted
led by the echoes inside
into the street
tiny tremors beautified by the fresh air
the same ones that vibrate beneath
the ones that marched
and pushed
and gazed through the window
the ones that lead always to her
the ones that always brings them close
Tiny tremors engulfing them
Them,
always Them.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
Welcome to the major leagues
You've paid your dues and made the team
Followed your heart now live the dream
Welcome to the major leagues
"Batter!" up you're in the box
Swing and miss your average drops
Always tomorrow it never stops
Welcome to the major leagues
A few bad games reputation fades
Rumors start, so do the trades
Now a question when once an ace
Welcome to the major leagues
Bounce around from town to town
Look for an edge on the low down
Needles pills always around
Welcome to the major leagues
Back on track to be a winner
Pressure mounts contracts get bigger
**** test finds you, hey go figure
Welcome to the major leagues
Adidas, Nike, gatorade,
Endorsments start to drift away
Suspension doiled out 40 games
Welcome to the major leagues
Conference called speak from the heart
Media tears you apart
Promise you'll make another start
Welcome to the major leagues
Asterix on your legacy
Move back home, hang up your cleats
Embarrased, beat and in defeat
Welcome to the major leagues
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 1:06 AM UTC
by Arcassin Burnham
"Concept"
Yeah,
I heard the sirens last night,
Must be airing out,
Vivid thoughts of your emotional busted future,
I never do sir,
I go with the flow with everything I do,
Life in your hands,
Thought so,
I knew it wasn't you,
Put on my pants one leg at a time,
Then i sat,
Sneakers, hoodies and Adidas,
Trying on a bucket hat,
But yo it wasn't what I was feeling,
Somethings we can't help,
And ever black man does,
He gets killed,
Did the video go viral?
Did you see the officer that did it?
You should perish,
How the hell is this man still livin'.
If you don't get concept ,
By now you Should have it,
Its right in front of you,
All you need...........
••••
.........To do is "Grasp it"
Do you feel it yet?!!
I know a lot of y'all been sending out many threats,
Bashing the internet about interracial couples on commercials,
Do you see how mad and ****** off I got yet?
Why the world lost people without justice,
Why economy telling us to forget this,
Killed in cold blood in a mini mart,
How could we all ever forget this.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC