"alvin" poems
WOODSTOCK
They came from The South, The North and The West Coast
450,000 together for peace and music, half a million at most
Richie Havens inspired all while singing his "Freedom" song
Country Joe McDonald dropped "F" bombs his whole set long
Carlos Santana amazed us, as he gave all and sacrificed his soul
Arlo Guthrie with Woody's **** packed his pipe and smoked a bowl
Canned Heat and The Bear asked us to work together united stand
Levon Helm pounded skins and sang "The Weight" with The Band
Joe Cocker warned us more than once that he might sing out of tune
One after the other, CSNY, Alvin Lee, Sha Na Na midnight 'til noon
Janis gave a piece of her heart along with a "Ball and Chain"
Jefferson Airplane sang about Alice out in the pouring rain
The Fogerty's sang about where they were born and two girls one proud
And for the life of me I can't figure out why The Who played to this crowd
Jimi capped it off with The National Anthem and "Purple Haze"
the perfect ending to four long daze of rock and roll blaze
So if your travels take you to New York Up State
Stop at Bethel Wood, the place where Rock History was written in Slate
"1969, when music was grooved in vinyl and carved in Rock"
inspired by the song "Woodstock"
written by Joni Mitchell
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
I'm not in my comfort zone
trying to think of something special
mix emotions and i almost feel alone
what am i doing, i'm dying while i'm laughing
i'm smiling while i'm crying
the left root is telling me to stop
the right artery is not doing its job right
i'm down, am i happy? going up!
those lovely eyes should not see this. look at the light
force myself to think of something bright. . .
paranoid on their own perspective
I'm not doing this right, I'm not quite effective
ecstasy is what i want! i demand! imperative!
you can judge me now and say defective!
almost dizzy, it's still beating, long live!
as long as she is away i will miss her
as long as she is in love with me i will kiss her
nothing can stop me from loving her
i am my own worst enemy, my ***** mind
but this day wont pass without saying I LOVE YOU because your one of a kind!
Oct 23, 2010
Oct 23, 2010 at 8:37 AM UTC
wildfires in Cali, nukes threaten LA
dreamers dead in DC and Irmas on her way....
****** Hairs in the White House, Houston's flooded still...
Afghan be bleedin...I feelin the big chill...
GOP be crazy...Dems dead as a rock...
Amerika be reeling...Doomsday clock tick tock...
Music Selection:
Alvin Lee,
I'd Love to Change the World
Orlando
9/5/17
jbm
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC
by Alvin Guanlao (Bold verses) - Joseph Juatco (Normal Fonts)
Digest
**Do you want me to say oblivious?
I didn't even know what it means.
let's try the word conspicuous,
Its meaning is more obvious than it seemed.
I'm a word carnivorous,
meticulous on what i eat.
I'm poetically omnivorous,
Digesting what i see.**
Now don't be suspicious,
I'm good in playing words,
You know I can be as righteous,
just as you looking like a ****
Or am I just too ambitious,
I think I am trying hard,
I wanted this write to be sumptuous,
Oh please don't disregard!
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 7:38 AM UTC
Alvin waits for Shakila,
She is so slow sometimes,
Doesn't she know I have to be there on time?
I've spun around the house and combed my hair,
I'm ready to go.
She has to have her coffee and curly-fries,
She's so fat now, can she drive?
I will be late coz its expected of her,
Everyone knows she is behind.
Excuses no longer matter,
She is still my best friend,
Even though she is slow.
I sometimes think,
She needs rest.
She acts crazy.
Crazy, crazy, crazy,
But she takes me places,
But never on-time.
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 6:45 AM UTC
an intersecting pattern
has shown up
on the radar screen
there are many familiar characters
to be seen
entities from a far
constellations
has appeared in this location
it has be most astounding
to find those floaters
in this surrounding
I bet if I check the radar screen
in the next while
there will be more familiar entities
landing on its dial
they are ever popping
into this sphere
and one finds this
all to be exceptionally queer
at any minute Alvin Asteroid and Melba Meteorite
may make an appearance
on the site
they'll be traveling
incognito
but the intersecting pattern
shall bear their info
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
.
I remember that old electric guitar,
no name brand, a Fender knockoff,
stripped and painted
to look like an American flag
because Peter Fonda made it cool
That Silvertone amp, volume cranked
reverb, two inputs, tubes, bass, treble,
when Sears was the place where
music dreams came alive
because Dad had a credit card
Out in my parent’s garage,
Skippy on drums and John on bass
Wearing shades in the dark like John Kay
A tape recorder mike hanging from the ceiling
Playing “The Pusher” at all hours
Until the neighbors called my mom
and we had to shut the door
or turn it down, we shut the door
Black light posters, an old couch,
power saws and Christmas decorations
We were gonna be stars, rock stars
Chicks would dig us and guys would envy us
Our hair down to our shoulders
Incense to hide certain smells
Bad *** wasn’t even a term yet, but we were
Patch covered jeans, zig zag
and faded denim jackets,
peace signs and headbands,
Santana and Arlo, “Alice’s Restaurant”
Nothing could stop us
I remember that old electric guitar,
the guys are gone now, not dead, just gone
I can still hear Alvin Lee rocking “I’m coming home”
But somewhere along the line I got old (grew up)
when I wasn’t paying attention I guess
I still wear my hair a little long, a little
and I have nice collection of guitars
But that “Rock Star” dream faded long ago
Now I carry a different instrument,
I carry a pen...
and it’s a name brand pen
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC
by Alvin Guanlao (Bold verses) - Joseph Juatco (Normal Fonts)
Digest
**Do you want me to say oblivious?
I didn't even know what it means.
let's try the word conspicuous,
Its meaning is more obvious than it seemed.**
**I'm a word carnivorous,
meticulous on what i eat.
I'm poetically omnivorous,
Digesting what i see.**
Now don't be suspicious,
I'm good in playing words,
You know I can be as righteous,
just as you looking like a ****
Or am I just too ambitious,
I think I am trying hard,
I wanted this write to be sumptuous,
Oh please don't disregard!
Oct 3, 2010
Oct 3, 2010 at 10:42 PM UTC
They stand in their uniforms straight and tall,
They are family members one and all.
They put on the uniforms, not for money, fame, or glory
But for the untold story.
The story of wanting to be free to raise their families.
A story of love, emotion, and religious devotion.
They are willing to take the stand, and become the sacrificial lamb.
They are the AMERICAN soldiers who believe in liberty
To be able to express yourself no matter what it may be.
They come from the farmlands, the mountains, the big cities
And the small towns, where every soldier imaginable can be found.
Just read the story of Sergeant ALVIN YORK who in the
First World War he had fought.
He was a conscientious objector who came from the upper
Farmlands of TENNESSEE – didn’t believe in war but wanted to be free.
They told him about the founding of AMERICA and what they had gone thru
And to make a decision of what he wanted to do.
He sat on the mountaintop staring across the land
Knowing he had to make a decision – he had to take a stand.
With the thought of the bible s verse “thou shall not **** “
And the other thought saying “freedom is not free”
This has been going on throughout history.
He and nine others captured more prisoners than they dared to count
This is what AMERICA is all about.
louis rams
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
The bullet grazed my leg
Just a flesh wound
Was it my fault
Did I instigate inflammatory vitriol
Should I apologize for my free associations
The way my pen glides across the page
To the core of dissension
Perhaps it was my skirt
Was it too tight, too short
Hugging the curves of my body
Making you hot and thirsty
The freedom of Alvin Alley dancers
With their legs spread
Opening the flow of free expression
Dancing to the voice of Maya Angelou
The seekers, the marchers, the painters,
The writers
All refugees like me
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
you told me once that i am
a dead body on a puppet string
and i'm still not sure
what you meant by it
but i kept those words
stuck them in between
each of my ribs and i
will be embalmed with them
long before you realize
they were ever missing
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
Funny if I leave today I wonder if you will let me go!
I wanna stay and hold you like we use to but it's hard you know,
Cause once upon a time you was my everything
Far away from home I'm thinking should I stay..?
You left me now I question what did I do so wrong"!
If there's a way God if there's a way
If there a place God where me and him can talk fr can you take my soul ?
This is killing me
Suffocating
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
Let me share to you a story
One night, a child of 6 maybe 7 years of age
went to his father side. The child asks the father to go with him to the store nearby.
Dad, can you go with me to the store at the corner please.
Son, you can manage to go to the store alone already.
then the child replied,
But, I'm scared..
Of what? his Father asked.
It's dark, there are dogs, and there are men drinking by the store.
As the father and son walks to the store..
the child is smiling and also singing as if the fear he felt earlier had vanished.
The child is not afraid anymore because he is with his father.
The child felt safe with his Dad at his side.
.....
When the child's father went with his son to the store, did the darkness of the night became brighter? No, it's still dark.
the scary dogs, did they become friendly? No, the dogs are still barking.
and what about those people drinking by the store, did they went running when they see the child's father coming? Definitely not.
but why did this child seems to feel a sense safety and confidence?
It's because he is with his dad.
Just like us, no matter what kind of ordeal we are facing right now..
No matter how scary the road we are in...
as long as we know our father (God) is with us, we will not be afraid. we will feel safe and confident throughout the journey.
-Alvin Barcelona
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 10:34 AM UTC
"Les femmes jouissent d'abord par l'oreille"
Dit Marguerite Duras
Toi, mon HYDRE-MUSE, tu jouis
Par l'oreille absolue et frivole
Magnifiée
Par la danse à contre-temps
De la poésie pénétrante
Du saxo et de la tumba
Du coupé décalé et de l'azonto
Entre violons et accordéons
Qui fait voltiger sur tes hanches
Toute la copelia complicada de ta libido.
Je rentre sans hâte dans la mue de la couleuvre
Et je te ceins la taille.
Réinventons les croisés en cinquième position
Du ballet classique de Noureev, Petipa et Balanchine
Et à quatre pattes virevoltons dans le Bolchoi.
Setenta y ocho :
Je te tatoue le bas des reins
D'un tatou boule qui exécute
Des renversés arrière multicolores
Dans les plus intimes sillons de ta peau.
Cero :
Verbum Sapientiae Principium Est !
De mon pinceau chatoyant je dessine Des pas de bourrée étourdissants
Aux confins de tes cambrures
Setenta y siete :
Tu miaules des entrechats charnels
Et tu tournoies comme un ventilateur
Et tu me dis : viens, mon prince,
Montre-moi tes ronds de jambes doubles
Ochenta y quatro :
je te prends par les orteils tout en te caressant l'oreille
Et je te dis vas-y
Cuarenta y cinco :
Dombolo baroque dès que tu bouges tes fesses pour m'inviter à tes
Messes de sabbat
Très y media :
Demi-pointe sur les tétons qui frémissent et qui clignent des yeux
La peau de ton aréole gauche danse la biguine
Ton sein droit fait voltiger du jus de grenade
Sesenta :
Un deux trois cinq six sept
Un seul fouetté
Tu enchaînes les figures libres et académiques
Passe après passe
Tu plantes dans le taureau farceur tes aromates
Et je crie Banco et tu me mordilles la paume de la main.
Setenta complicada :
J'aime notre gourmandise choreographee clitoridienne, anale, phallique et vaginale
Cet appétit colossal de ballet épicé à la Merce Cunningham, Alvin Ailey et Martha Graham
Qui nous prend entre deux morts de tous nos lacs des cygnes primaux
Nous en sommes les danseurs étoiles les solistes les premiers danseurs les petits rats les chorégraphes et les maîtres de ballet
À nous deux nous formons une troupe
Réincarnée
Et nous signons de nos plumes de chair notre martingale lubrique :
Un deux trois... Cinq six sept
Un deux trois... Cinq six sept
Un deux trois... Cinq six sept
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 3:31 AM UTC