"ahem" poems
Okay I'm a guy
and thinking something positively about
my body is something I've never even tried!
Deep breath... Deep breath....
alright, maybe This'll be for the best
ahem
Okay now to think about my body in a positive manner
I'm not the best looking guy but I can clean up and look dapper
I have curly hair and some ******* up teeth
but embracing my flaws is the only way to get over my raging insecurity
I may get inked up soon
ideally on my birthday at high noon
yes I'm a guy and I'm not Charles atlas
but I'm taking my body off of my mental blacklist
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 3:21 AM UTC
I cut an avocado in half
and give one half to the visitor;
and I carefully scoop
the avocado
gently, gently
with a teaspoon
(the Aztec records show
this is, ahem! the fertility fruit)
and I savor each scoop
and eat like a pig
(ah well, like a graceful pig);
and at last
I have the skin left
in the palm of my hand
and it’s tough
and shaped like a boat;
and it has rained
and there’s a puddle of water
on the lawn
and an ant that’s been irritating me
wandering about on my naked foot
and I put the ant
in the avocado boat
and I set the boat in the puddle
and I give it a gentle push
and I say:
“Bon voyage, Monsieur!”
And then I look at my visitor,
and that silly guy is still staring at his half
and I ask, ever gently,
“Do you need help
with your fertility fruit there?”
The visitor replies, “No" –
and I wonder if I should get him brain food
or perhaps set him off on another avocado boat…
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 12:37 AM UTC
To all it may concern: straight people
Dear straight parents,
Thank you,
For making us gays,
And then making us feel like **** for being created,
But hey, you created us.
Dear straight people,
Shut your **** mouth.
We don't care.
Your words aren't going to change us,
No protest signs are gonna change us,
Only God can,
And that isn't an excuse to try and pray the gay away.
Dear straight men,
If a girl likes another girl,
They are not your ****** play toy.
Remove those perverted thoughts from your head,
And learn to control your *****
Dear straight men,
If a boy likes another boy,
And they don't like you,
Then keep your mouth shut.
If you don't like it,
Then don't be gay.
It doesn't concern you,
And it's none of your ******* business.
Dear straight women,
Just because a girl likes another girl,
Does not make her a ****
Or a *****
Or a *****
But who knows she may be.
But since you're making assumptions like that,
You're probably one of the before mentioned.
Dear straight women,
Ahem "straight",
Go away.
Quit flirting with us,
Because it's annoying and confusing.
Figure out what you want
And try again later.
Dear straight ally's,
Thank you.
You need to procreate,
And make more of you,
Because the world seems to be full of
********
And biggots.
Dear straight people,
You don't have to like us,
But hating us,
And bashing us,
Isn't gonna make us suddenly go away,
Or quit being gay.
Go back to your prayers that the gays will come to realize if you want,
But I think there are bigger problems in the world
That you need to be concerned with
More than a girl liking *****
Sincerely,
One who is both a straight and a gay.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 8:12 AM UTC
Of all the ****** that i like,
The best would be of lace and white,
But then again, there's so so much,
There's even knickers with no crotch!?,
Those little bras for beginner *****
Or leather gear, for naughty moods,
And not forgetting Bridget Jones,
Come on girls, we've all got those ones.
Those yummy corsets **** us in,
We'll shake our hips and bear a grin,
To tantalise and tease men so,
Our ***** with tassels on, so guys can, ahem, grow.
Those fishnet stockings cost a bomb,
But ladies, that's why we put them on,
We feel so **** and so do they,
So that's why we get them to pay.
Silk and satin, black or red,
Or going commando instead,
What then girls, do we love these things for,
Because they'll only be scattered on our bedroom floor?...
Apr 9, 2010
Apr 9, 2010 at 6:51 AM UTC
Werewolf stood in front of a puddle.
Four inches deep. Maybe.
Werewolf looked away.
Stickers. Graffiti.
Flem’s Revenge Live Tonight!
The Nifty Nymphos April 24th.
Ballz Deep featuring **** Matikz and Tremaine The Truest.
I’m a long way from Cologne, he thought.
Werewolf knelt towards the puddle.
The wet filth smelled of hot blood.
Exceptionally hot blood, rather.
He spat in the puddle and turned.
One thousand drunk humans.
Ten thousand more, asleep, above.
Not misunderstood.
Cursed.
It’s a very different sadness.
Alexander’s Feast ended.
Rounding out his latest playlist -
Bashfully Baroque.
Werewolf checked the time.
Less than an hour.
He buzzed a buzzer.
I’m here for the Devil’s Cherries.
The What?
The, ahem, Devil’s Cherries.
He’s cool. Let him in.
And just like that, he was let out.
A line was forming for Flem’s Revenge.
While a bright moon reflected in Werewolf’s puddle.
Werewolf shouldered through.
Cursed.
Clutching his score.
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 1:19 PM UTC
I know where to find you
drunk in the garden
having another existential crisis
conversing with the plastic pink flamingos
they think you're 'hollow'
and that your exterior is too polished
he sees his own reflection when he looks at you
Your youth was made up of
cringe-worthy hair styles and room temperature beer
with the taste of **** and vinegar
and the prospect of milk and honey
alas, you're 24 now
perfecting the art of escapism
disenchanted, delusional
You're just clearing your throat
to say nothing at all
ahem
and continuing to romanticize recycled lifestyles
in the name of authenticity
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
the zombie has opinions about nutrition
but lives off of tasty urban debris
the zombie is standing on the beach
whipped by grey
watching the waves roll in high
the zombie is on the computer again--
where nobody knows he's a zombie
the zombie seems to be listening but is looking at his phone
the zombie is not a joiner, so don't be uncool and ask
though he might join and then drop out, which just proves
joining was pointless in the first place
oh definitely the zombie likes to go down
the zombie bites the hand that feeds him
the zombie does not mind poison if it means saving money
the zombie is against bad things.
the zombie is not a sheep.
the zombie is dying of loneliness but can't ever seem to connect.
the zombie is spreading deserts
and drowning deltas.
the zombie is standing up for what's right, on facebook.
the zombie knows that *** is safer than alcohol
and it makes him safer
the zombie feels guilty sometimes but ultimately
not personally responsible.
the zombie is tired--not enough sleep, not enough brains.
the zombie doesn't need you,
he just wants you,
when he sees you.
ahem: the zombie wants you for your mind.
the zombie is free.
the zombie embodies Csikszentmihalyi's state of "Flow."
the zombie may have made you one of his kind,
you will never know because
zombies don't know they're
zombies.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 8:29 AM UTC
To all it may concern: straight people
Dear straight parents,
Thank you,
For making us gays,
And then making us feel like **** for being created,
But hey, you created us.
Dear straight people,
Shut your **** mouth.
We don't care.
Your words aren't going to change us,
No protest signs are gonna change us,
Only God can,
And that isn't an excuse to try and pray the gay away.
Dear straight men,
If a girl likes another girl,
They are not your ****** play toy.
Remove those perverted thoughts from your head,
And learn to control your *****
Dear straight men,
If a boy likes another boy,
And they don't like you,
Then keep your mouth shut.
If you don't like it,
Then don't be gay.
It doesn't concern you,
And it's none of your ******* business.
Dear straight women,
Just because a girl likes another girl,
Does not make her a ****
Or a *****
Or a *****
But who knows she may be.
But since you're making assumptions like that,
You're probably one of the before mentioned.
Dear straight women,
Ahem "straight",
Go away.
Quit flirting with us,
Because it's annoying and confusing.
Figure out what you want
And try again later.
Dear straight ally's,
Thank you.
You need to procreate,
And make more of you,
Because the world seems to be full of
********
And biggots.
Dear straight people,
You don't have to like us,
But hating us,
And bashing us,
Isn't gonna make us suddenly go away,
Or quit being gay.
Go back to your prayers that the gays will come to realize if you want,
But I think there are bigger problems in the world
That you need to be concerned with
More than a girl liking *****
Sincerely,
One who is both a straight and a gay.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 7:17 PM UTC
God is spoken
From a potent Thing
we smoking Trees
Gaia birthed the bloom
breathed the boom
in the canopies,
In the wind flew the bees
and grew the pleasantries
Prana pushing
thunder through
sQuishing lemon trees
like a hundred new
Whisps of mists
and heavy deeds
Sit with honeydew
The gist of this
the lemon breeze
(We) Going tunnel view
Fits and Shakes,
seeking remedies
digging under you
Might be
dicking under you
Might be
Torn asunder true
Pirate borne to plunder you....
Sweat means gold,
what's been found
with lemon -ease?
I've been told
What in our eyes
is what we ever see's
7 seas,
more like 7 deeds,
filled with deadly feeds
Demons like to pleade
with ready rease,
Virus, the life that
spread disease
(it alters our sense
and what we please)
~Ahem,
***no te comas
la verdad
del diablo,***
today to trust
Might feel bad, but
none brought low
There's an easy in
WE Strong Standin',
N0ne brought low
and now we win
amen, a man
none start south
Its begun...
Light as
Potent as my prayers
**** the make-believe
***I can't wear it, ah
Dark is
Ever reaching
What do you receive?
***What you carrying hah?
Balance
(Is) an even preaching :
What we choose to be
***I can bear it ; hah
Come and help me unweave
those who have been so deceived
Those stuck in in the mud of ...
sputtering " how can it be ?"
**** the you or me, mentality
When Neurons Fire free
and Serotonins drained in me
You Might find Saraswati
sweetly swathing me
In glowing rivers,
poured off the moon
With Omens looming soon
With Omens looming soon
I been choking on my doom.
Dreaming
with Both eyes open
and a heart awoken ,
poorly stoking gloom
Too blind to see hope
but stoked, still
mocking roving
Vroom : im off to tokin soon.
Sh!t this blunt be totaled soon
I Might be total loon
an inverted magic man
who most often enwomb
those caught on the moon
Those stuck in the tune
For those who hear
this earworm, this tea room sloom.
This is for Those muted in zoom:
I've found traction in heaps
Breaking as hard and often
As the risen yeast
When you pass on the least
My Passion is to find
the passion of peace
its Stuck In the grasp
Fashioned with the sap
of my last energies...
May 3, 2022
May 3, 2022 at 12:27 AM UTC
.*in the end days?! you charge against the snowflakes... and make a ******* snowman! he... he! i still can't comprehend how these personalities made money from lifestyle choice... they were basically internet bums, internet "lazy people"... bums... become supporters... engrossed in the internet homeless people... bums... i ate a custard pie, and devised a poncy-scheme to become paid for an opinion without a dialectic.... homeless people, bums... seem like philosophers by comparison... and now the bewildering quest... of how / why the internet died.*
**** it, the gloves are off...
about time to punch this *****
silly-dead...
**** it... all the internet content
creators, that are women:
are giving off nervous voices...
shoe on head... whoever...
here's where said people...
start looking for, ahem....
"real" jobs... jobs plagued by
the study of psychology....
oh they're scared...
because whatever the internet
was...
from 2007 through to
2016... in the time of the zenith...
hello new t.v.,
hello internet banking...
hello internet online shopping...
what?!
you want edgy?!
come down to the forest,
or the shady back alleyway
with the new teens...
come come...
you wanted edgy...
such a shame though...
to think of your comments
becoming as redundant
as the plight of sending
off your C.V. application...
sorry....
what?
you have finally arrived
at what you wanted...
why are you looking at me for
with that dumb-"found"
look?!
do i look stupid?
or are you pretending
to not be?!
******* internet bums...
you know it was coming...
it was coming...
i never asked for money...
i'll never ask for money...
but you did...
you begged...
you dog begged...
you...
begged...
you're still going
to beg,
when the internet is reduced
to nothing more than
a 2nd t.v., internet banking,
and internet shopping...
and... that's about it;
you're joking, you think there's
more?!
ha ha... good luck.
p.s.
because, believe it or not,
look at what you gave me?
i didn't ask for money,
i didn't ask for time...
but what you gave me
is best expressed cryptically,
as both time, and money.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
You are my sun, the planets and the asteroids in between,
actually, make that the energy that embraces the sun,
the elements and trace elements that make up each planet...
(Oh, my stars!)
You are each perfect petal that unfurls ever so slowly in the morning light,
actually, make that the light that kisses each dew drop which
awakes each petal with that sweet kiss...
(Oh, blush, my buzzing bee!)
You are that raindrop that refreshes my parched soul that's stranded in a desert,
actually, make that the mirage that proves to be an oasis
as my eyes widen in wonderment with the reality of You.
(Oh, shucks, my sweet breath!)
You are my golden compass whenever I get lost in the wilderness,
actually, I wouldn't mind getting lost, if it means
that I get lost in your soulful, beautiful eyes Forever
(Oh, you cheeseball, you!!)
You are the chocolate ganache frosting on that chocolate cake,
actually, you are the powdered sugar on my honey-dipped doughnut
that brushes my lips, the perfect complement for hot, hot coffee
(Oh, honey bun!!)
You are the--
Sweetcakes??
You are the freshly ground pepper that dusts softly on my carbonara, I'm just
Ahem!!!!
You are the freshly ground pepper that dusts softly on my carbonara,
actually it would be bland and incomplete without you and---
Hey, babe!
huh?!
*I'm on dense mode right now, what are you really trying to say?
Come on, spill it, I NEVER hear it from you...*
Ummm, ummm...I...I...
I mean, I--
Out with it, come on!! You can do it---"I...."
Hoo! Ok, I...
I can do this---
I...
(Note to self: This is IT!!!!!)
I--
Yesss...?!!
I
am
the empty, wanting glass and you are the refreshing drink that fills me up,
actually,--
***~BOINKKKKKkkK~ !! I'm walking away now!!
Geez, if you can't say IT without all the Fluffy, duffy, Fluff,
see me walking away for now...I need the Skinny, the skeleton!
Sometimes one just needs to Hear it, you know?!
Oh, and I love you,in case you didn't know...but see me walk!***
Hey, honey bunny, smoochie sweetie pie?
...still walking away~~~~
I...
huff, huff, huff~~
I am walking towards you...
Huff, puff, puff and hufff~! (note to self: Walk on, walk on...)
I said I'm walking towards you...
~bump~!
and
I...
Love
You.
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 1:09 PM UTC
It's the pose that will set all the boys from the men,
When they shed all their clothes and you see them, and then,
One of two things will happen upon seeing this pose,
You could run like the devil, or shed all your clothes,
Now ladies, you will know what i mean when i say,
If you dont know him well, then you must run away,
As such a bold move can only be tried,
By a man that you love, and a will to be tied, ahem,
But if ,luckily,like me your man is **** Welsh and keen,
Then you must mount that great band wagon, if you know what i mean,
This bold pose known as "The Naked Man" is centuries old,
So lets keep it alive ladies, dare to be bold,
Let's encourage our men to ditch all their clothes,
So that we can enjoy the lovely naked man pose,
Standing tall, chest out and hands on his hips,
Telling you to come over without moving his lips,
You can feel that you're blushing, and your hearts beating fast,
Bravo, naked man pose, bashfullness is dead, AT LAST!!!!
(c) eileen mcgreevy 2010
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 7:08 AM UTC
This is going to be painful for me. These folks think they're so heavy, evil, dark, and mysterious. (Ahem) Next to the crab, you are one of the biggest wimps the Universe ever farted out. Don't even ask for backup in a fight with these people, their excuse is, "I wasn't really sure what was going on!" With your low energy, you can barely fly unless you have been a constant train wreck, I may throw you scrap of respect. You just barely have the *** department down and I have kicked many a stinger out of bed. Emotional inside like a bag of **** lit on fire! You can't escape from the bag of your own **** show. No wonder you're so angry, all you do is repeatedly sting yourself to death. What a stupid species you are, indeed!
Advice: Stop with the whole tough guy/girl front. Everyone knows that when someone throws their hands back at you, you run away and cry in the corner like the little **** you are. So quit with the heavy and join Cancer.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
got so drunk at their little, ahem, initiation ceremony: drank a bottle of whiskey when i heard we were going clubbing wearing lycra shorts... the man with the biggest bulge and the biggest stick... never understood male group psychology... or any group psychology for that matter... it isn't exactly a throng of noblemen following Henry VIII.
i joined the lacrosse university team
for a bit,
left it when the time came to buy the
equipment - i didn't think getting
smacked by the defenders' longer sticks
was worth it, to be a striker with the shortest
stick - too physical - i thought i'd seek
some other physicality,
got stuck-up on rock climbing, and mountaineering
for a while, nothing serious,
a bit of easy bouldering on the edinbrugh crag,
the one lining the skyline at holyrood park,
the salisbury crag, just west of arthur's seat -
i'm not going to lie about clinging off the
matterhorn or something -
but i did an expedition with the mountaineering
club near Ben Nevis once...
Glen Coe / Coire nan Lochan...
and i figured, with all this talk of light pollution,
well, "pollution", to think that a bunch of
street lamps can blind away the stars of what
former poets spoke of: about the illumination
of the heavens for the blind eye to see...
we camped outside one bothy (basic shelter)
set off fireworks, drank whiskey, played music,
burnt a fire in the bothy...
but to be honest... i was not amused by this whole
theory of light pollution...
i looked up at the sky, and the number of stars
was no greater than the number seen in a bright
lit city... i know they say all those telescopes
amplify the chance of peering into the heavens
at night and see more stars...
but why cite light pollution, when, in a remote
highland hideout the number of stars didn't
increase in number... i've heard a girl from
australia cite that, in the outback she said
more stars could be seen... even without a telescope...
so the scottish highlands are unlike the australian
outback? is it just me... or is it simply ********
this whole light pollution argument?
it was dark out there like in an **** after black coffee
and charcoal tablets.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
Ahh-he-che'em ack-ahem. Sorry, let me clear my throat.
One day I set out galavanting, looking for a high.
I meandered to the ocean shore and set a lively stride.
My eyes were wet, my heart was light as I looked out at the splendor,
About that time I heard a rumble, a sudden yearning for a chicken tender.
I galloped to an eatery in hopes of a hearty meal,
But had a measly handful of coins, so I opted for a deal.
The only place I found tat would accept my sum of coins
For anything sufficient enough to satisfy my *****
Was a gritty place called Taco Bell, but it was my only choice.
The cashier was a voluptuous dame and my trousers became quite moist.
She said to me, "what will you have?", in a shockingly low-pitched voice.
I was taken aback for a moment, but stuttered, "a number six, I think".
"Comin' right up honey", he or she said with a wink.
I just smiled shyly and went to go fill up my drink.
My food was finally ready, but I was a bit wary,
I could't tell what was in my taco - squirrel, beef or canary.
My hunger pushed me through my fear and I finally took a bite,
Although skeptical at first, my taste buds did delight!
I had finally finished with my meal and was satisfied and full,
But down below my abdomen I felt a mighty pull.
I had no time I knew at once and dashed to find relief.
The single men's room was in sight, but who should be a thief?!
The cashier with the arousing bosoms had stolen my salvation...
As I stood there in that Taco Bell I felt a curious sensation.
When normally I could have held it, a complete bowel prostration.
While the **** was pouring out like a broken sink,
My mind started to wander and I couldn't help but think,
*If the women's room is out of order, I wonder which she/he has,
A set of both, a meat-locker or a **** and nads?*
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
Esta boca es mía
nací con ella, me crié con ella
aprendí a hablar y a conjugar adjetivos
palabras, sujetos y predicados
escupiendo cosas que nunca debí decir
masticando en ella la vida como menta
saboreando cada momento, cada prosa
con mi boca la que no procesa
lo que de la mente llega
mas aun sale al desnudo
como un bebe al recién nacer.
De mi boca
la que muerde siente y se arrepiente
la que delira a cada rato
la que conoce un vocabulario sin sentido
rima frases sin diccionario
porque si no existen se las inventa
hasta que lleguen a existir
casi así como el Latín
un idioma al extinguir
una lengua sin domesticar
diciendo cosas sin sugerir
sin ninguna delicadeza
que interrumpe sin excusar
sea mentira o sea ******
es una boca sin conciencia
que deja de ser boca
en el momento que empieza hablar.
[Mi boca tiene sed, un receso.]
[Ahem]
[Como decía...]
Talvez tengo una fijación oral
sea por angustia o ansiedad
mi boca no conoce nicotina
ni mariscos ni invertebrados
que se sacuden en el piso
pero si una buena botella de vino
y un trago de whisky,
mejor ni hablar...
Sabes que mi boca se fue de gira
y de paso conoció a otras
enternecidas, endurecidas por los años
secuestradas por amores baratos
sin ningún tipo de amnistía
mas para mi boca fue un contrabando
ladrona de besos prestados
que suben de precio en el mercado
en los burdeles de los gitanos
y de mis fantasías cuando ya no estas.
Y es así que me quede sin boca
cuando paso hacer tuya
porque no hay boca con mas levadura
no hay boca con mas fortuna
tan pesimista y tan conformista
y al final de cuenta tan habladora
que se resbala en mi camisa
bajando de botón a botón
subiendo denuevo
se esconde y la encuentro
visitando a la mía,
la mía misma
que después de tantos años
dejo de ser boca
porque ya no se conforma
ni se entiende ni se toca
si no te besa a ti.
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 4:09 PM UTC
Mom would say, “Your dad has friends,
Black friends on the police force, of course
We don’t set down to eat with them.
It wasn’t safe to say to her, “Ahem.
Did you hear what you just said?”
She’d swing one upside my head
And it would be like a garden gate
But with the weight of her stout arm
And the harm she could do with that
Sat me back down on my bony ****
I wrote “black friends” but that is because
That was not the word she used, applause,
Applause. Clean it up for the publishment,
Don’t cause a resentment for the wrong reason.
It is never the season because I am white
And it’s never right for me to say the N word,
Haven’t you heard? They can, and I can’t
Even in a rant that describes the horror
Of living in a half right, all white world.
My fingers permanently curled into fists
So hard to resist saying to my parents
“You daren’t speak like that to the preacher
Or half of my teachers because they’d see
Just how deeply grained racism can be."
And both sides would take it out on me,
Just a kid, so I agree to hide what you did.
I agree to pretend you aren’t part of the problem;
Another prejudiced person, training me
Explaining to me how life really is right now.
You saying to me “Don’t put your lips there
On that fountain. Some N person might have, too!
And that made sense to you. Perfect sense.
You were that dense, that unquestioning, too.
Ready to do what your white society dictates
And making me into a swinging garden gate
If I don’t toe the line, and hold my confusion
While I pray for no contusion from the slap.
I hold hands in my lap and act submissive.
And I act like I accept all this as right
Because I am white. But, even though I won’t
Say a word at ten years of age, I don’t.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 10:32 AM UTC
So many eyes lay upon cursing skin
crevices grit, pockmarked with each thrashing intrusion
budding enthusiasm, awash, boiled...
suffer, oh suffer, green potato.
Crinkle cut? Jib of glut!
manipulate form and function
stain of starch satisfaction...
coffer, oh coffer, oh cough, ahem, cough!
It ain't about money.
That's right, mustn't disturb the soil,
So many eyes lay upon cursing skin
crevices grit, pockmarked with each thrashing intrusion
budding enthusiasm, awash, boiled...
suffer, oh suffer, green potato.
A memory, distant, the taste of that green potato
rots in the kitchen... eat it, enjoy the flavour,
dine on discourse...
digest it,
bury it deep inside,
release it,
let it grow again.
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC
I didn't mean to bother you.
I know you're busy.
And as it turns out,
I'm bad at apologies.
So here's a poem:
Rose are red,
Violets are blue,
I'm also bad at rhyming,
So here's a Haiku:
Haiku's aren't easy.
So I'm having some trouble.
How about a song:
This is a song without music
So it's not very good
But you should know
That I'm sorry
Hey, Hey,
I'm sorry for bothering you
Hey, Hey,
Maybe I should try a Limerick instead:
There once was a guy named Dan
He had just eaten some ham
He tried to write stories
To say he was sorry
But everything he wrote was bland
Alright, so maybe the Limerick thing didn't work out either
.
.
.
Hmmmmmmm
.
.
.
Oh! Oh! How about an epic story!?
(But you just said you were bad at those)
It was a dark and stormy night.
(Come on, that's lame)
SHUT UP, BRAIN. I'M TRYING TO MAKE THIS APOLOGY CUTE.
.
.
.
Ahem
.
.
.
So there we were, alone out on the battlefield. A single hawk circled above.
"I don't know how much more of this heat I can take," you told me.
We continued walking when suddenly, a giant tiger with teeth as sharp as a knives jumped out in front of us!
"Why is there a tiger in this desert!" you screamed in horror.
"Don't question the plotline!" I yelled raising my sword.
The tiger leaped at me with all its might.
"I'll protect you, my dear!"
I dodged left; sword still at the ready. The tiger turned around slowly, his dark eyes burning into my soul. What could I possibly do to defeat this huge beast? The tiger jumped again, but this time I was ready. I ran at him and slid onto my knees. As the tiger lept over me I thrusted my sword upwards into its stomach, killing it instantly.
We had survived the attack, went to find shelter, and lived happily ever after. The End
Long story short: I'm bad at saying sorry, I don't know what that story had to do with saying sorry, and I hope this made you laugh a little. It certainly made me feel better writing it.
This Thanksgiving, I'm happy you're back in my life. :)
Peace.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
It seems the only things that don't change
are music and the words written on the page
but the media changes minds and defines
what beauty is even though that trait is only skin deep
And Now to get brutal like ice cube on No Vaseline.
ahem
Okay first off **** "reality" Shows because all they do is objectify humanity and encourage men and women to become hoes because then you'll get A Tv show
**** Fox news because all they do is try to criminalize my skin tone or the way I express myself even though I may be trying to go ahead and spread wealth to the wealthless so ***** them for blindly supporting the wealthiest
**** Congress up the *** with no Vaseline or oil why did we vote those morons in if they weren't even thinking about anything but oil
**** Society and all the double standards because of one thing goes one way it should go another I know this anger is random but I had to get my feelings onto the page because I had to vent this bottled up rage
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 3:47 AM UTC
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barometric tendrils
psuedo-random and hybrid sets
growing like ivy in the clutches of time
such a
chocking
but actualising
grasp
..huh? what?
oh yes! sorry, sorry
come in, come in,
..you know,
I too, once, like how you are now,
was here too
so
very
very
present.
Aha! Oh yes!
Permit me a mock stifled cry of ostentatious self derision,
'hee hee hee'
aaaaaahhh..
I really was pitiful back then.
seeing you there now, I feel oh so whimsical and overcome
with
ahem
sorry.
..dank and musty cellars,
hashish and a can of beans.
(baked, not fried, -we were really naive enough to believe that?- )
had it all back then though, didn't we?
By which I mean we had nothing,
but the conviction
that obligation was something that actually meant something
rather than a Cryptocurrency in a Ponzi scheme,
(with a slice of lemon)
confidence intervals stockpiled in the stocks of confidence men.
Derivative markets
oh, so very much so
so very
derivative
idiomatic
and *******
asinine.
..Still, it does harken to its era, doesn't it?
'detached and disposable.'
toothpicks
limbs
ideals
all that
goodness!
I was supposed to be offering advice, wasn't I?
Interpolate up some mediated conjecture.
But the kids can look after themselves just fine, can't they?
So our fiscal policy seems to think;
'I wager we shear up the youth
to buy shares in implementing youth wages.'
sorry, I guess it's an antiquated complaint,
“think of the children!” , they say?
Can't they see,
the whole **** market's aimed at the proto-teens??
we do it all for them the little snots.
laissez faire welfare
hedge or double down?
A shrubbery?
Or a bacon butty with bread as ****** chicken and cheese?
(I just vomited in my mouth a little,
(how pastiche))
See, and people ask why I’m trapped in the past;
the future's got me car sick.
and honestly
we're just brimming with history
(the scourge of post-modernity)
like a black moss spewed on the walls
Poisoning visions and Rheumatic fever
tearing up our lovely
lovely
pacified
pay and display
psuedo
proto
posterity
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Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
Pool's Prince Charming
by Michael R. Burch
this is my tribute poem, written on the behalf of his fellow pool sharks, for the legendary Saint Louie Louie Roberts
Louie, Louie, Prince of Pool,
making all the ladies drool ...
Take the “nuts”? I'd be a fool!
Louie, Louie, Prince of Pool.
Louie, Louie, pretty as Elvis,
owner of (ahem) a similar pelvis ...
Compared to you, the books will shelve us.
Louie, Louie, pretty as Elvis.
Louie, Louie, fearless gambler,
ladies' man and constant rambler,
but such a sweet, loquacious ambler!
Louie, Louie, fearless gambler.
Louie, Louie, angelic, chthonic,
pool's charming hero, but tragic, Byronic,
winning the Open drinking gin and tonic?
Louie, Louie, angelic, chthonic.
NOTE: If you like my tribute you are welcome to share it, but please credit me as the author, which you can do by copying the title and subheading. I used poetic license about what Louie Roberts was or wasn't drinking at the 1981 U. S. Open Nine-Ball Championship. Was Louie drinking hard liquor as he came charging back through the losers' bracket to win the whole shebang? Or was he just pretending to drink for gamesmanship or some other reason? I honestly don't know. As for the word “chthonic,” it’s pronounced “thonic” and means “subterranean” or “of the underworld.” And the pool world at its worst can be very dark indeed, as Louie’s tragic demise suggests. But everyone who knew Louie seemed to like him, if not love him dearly, and many sharks have spoken of Louie in glowing terms, as a bringer of light to that underworld. Keywords/Tags: pool, shark, billiards, nine ball, Saint Louie Roberts, gambler, hustler
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 4:48 AM UTC
Christ Rules Everything Around Me
C.R.E.A.M
Keep the Faith
Grace upon Grace falls
Let them fuccbois come
Ahem,
We call'em chicken where I'm from
Home of tha guerrillas because they the reallus
Goin harda than the Cannibal Holocaust thrilla
I'm a Jigga from the Van Isle Villa
Of Nanaimo, I give props to Hova, tho
When I say Jigga I mean a Jewish *****
Though you may say I'm whack
Because my skin ain't black
I ain't racist when His love be my basis
Life's quaint outside of time, hyperboelic stasis
See this wordplay is my forté go figure
These Psychedelic flows are my signature
I am Holy at One with the Inner Nature
Skin young drapping over a soul more mature
I hope that you're taping
This flow so yo' can be sho'
Of the Good Lo' Jesus' divinity
Drink of His waters and He might make a saint of thee
Gettin drunk off His waters and you might just see three of me
You know I pray to the Father you don't greet me as deity G
Do not mistake what you see as me for purity
Only the Christ is sinless amen that is my only surety
Lord forgive any vanity
Christ Rules Everything Around Me
C.R.E.A.M
Keep the Faith
Grace upon Grace falls
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
cough
cough
ahem
she's we, you see
creep. liquor. creep. sack of **** that's what that is. creep.
liquor.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
Once upon a time, there lived a lady Gem
When she cleared her throat, she went ahem, ahem!
not to take anything cold, so was she advised
but she didn't care as much her doctor did; so I surmised
The aroma ran sweet when she started to cook
Her tasty muffins' recipes could easily fill a book
Her friends who ate them wouldn't just stop with one
And in the end, she would normally be left with none
When it came to work, she was conscientious
And in all that she did, she was fastidious
Though sometimes one could say, her mood was capricious
In all that she did and said, she was simply courageous
She had a large heart, and it was not just with food
In every one's life that she crossed paths, she blessed them with good!
Anyone who asked for help, would never be told no
She was one of the kindest souls one could ever get to know!
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 1:10 PM UTC