"antics" poems
The river winds in from distant lands
With mercyless power it turns stone to sand
Through its mysterious life, the very earth it commands
And Yet the fearful river still runs through our hands.
In torrents of furry where the deepest currents flow
The rivers wild waters surge with woe. For
Onward, forever, its destined to go
A permenant home it won't ever know.
The river runs from each of us
As a refugee of fear,
It knows in a blink it will be somewhere else
Its waves are really its tears.
It runs from the audacity
Of the selfish human mind
As Its massive life capacity,
Of flora and fauna combined,
Are threatened by our antics and helpless to our crime
So the river runs on their behalf, from everyone, in time-
even within its whitecap foam
Water's yearning for a home
So roam does the water- endlessly,
till its long gone out of sight
The essential droplets of the river-
Nomads day and night.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
And I told you to don't waste your time with me…
trying to pull you apart from me
trying to “stay safe”
Just because I was too afraid of loving again
I'm glad you stayed…
I'm glad you never gave up
I´m maravelloused with your amazing way to love me
you took me out from that cave I was hidden
Sometimes we're admiring those love stories at the movies
But is just our desision become the protagonist
of our own love story.
Ours is being writting with so much love,
with admiration and friendship
with comprehension
with intelligence and antics
with laughs and healing tears
with support
with a vibrant passion
Ours is being writting with the best of us!
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
why do you act like hamlet,
all depressed and grieved,
for your own heart shuts me out,
and it's you who's deceived?
when did you think like othello,
murderous and violent,
irrational with decisions,
making me suffer with guilty silence?
how did you turn into macbeth,
from the silky words that grace your lips,
to the venomous fangs you bit back at me,
stinging like burning, sharp whips?
because i thought you were romeo,
with your adventurous soul and romantic antics.
now you've faded away,
with all your heroic tactics.
wherefore art thou, romeo?
don't call me juliet,
if i'm just another rosaline.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
The Red Ants At His Picnic
Her pillow eyes gleamed
at his advances,
inching along slowly.
His anteater likeness,
rising,
coming to an anthem,
frolicking on her picnic,
on her mound,
hoarse and hungrily.
Rendevous antics to form.
Wave after wave,
the red ants at his picnic,
dancing,
dancing like there's no tomorrow,
seducing him in further.
He,
so antsy,
anticipating.
In his genre,
happily along,
on her trail,
like a hunter,
taking her welcoming little red colony,
to kingdom
come.
To ******* come,
where her castle and moats succumb,
relenting,
saluting to his anthem.
Where soon white clouds a bursting,
blue skies emerging.
The sublimity and antidote holding on,
holding on to her picnic.
And the rocket's did red glare,
the bombs bursting in air-
together,
to gather.
And there they were ... chaos, abuzz,
lyrical
then calm.
Sustenance drawn on their faces.
A slight breeze runs through the grass
the red ants at bay.
Logan Robertson
4/17/2018
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
i am a hopeless romantic
with suicidal antics
that cant seem to love herself
she cant seem to nudge herself
out of depressive episodes
but she has expressive goals
to fall in love
to call on love
for several favors
and she has several wagers
that "this one will be 'the one'"
that what ever is done
can be undone
and that she will be okay
because one day love will fix it all
she is a pathetic romantic
with an optimistic aesthetic
and a manic
personality
Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 10:17 PM UTC
Bunga Bunga everywhere,
a powerful man with silly hair
seduced a girl too young and scared,
was married too but didn’t care.
Corrupt and feared!
Bunga Bunga sounds like fun,
a swimming pool and saucy sun,
an Egyptian that was on the run
Or, under-aged Morocun
Who ****** the boss!
Bunga Bunga ***** and *****
coffles of women to choose
and buy and grab and ride and use,
with confidence
and so much to lose,
but why didn’t he lose?
Why didn’t he lose when it was on the news
and hundreds of thousands of people accused
him of scandal and incompetence?
He never revealed his conscience
or any remorse for play boy antics
so far removed from his pedantic
stereotype as a political leader,
more like a ****** wheeler dealer,
pervy old ***** geezer,
over cologned,
greasy,
heavy breather;
machinating falsifier;
misogynistic **********
He prized a Ruby above the rest.
Bunga bunga, what a pest...
she leaked his private fetish fest;
poor Silvio, he tried his best
to hide the bribes and bets
and ****** and drugs and threats
but never could care
what was right and
what was fair.
Could only care
about the colour of his
**** hair.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 11:45 AM UTC
Floating in the Sky
Without a care tonight
Unaware the storm
All consuming, the end is nigh
Lost
My friend disappeared in the smoke
Fast
We are going to have to move
Fast
I left you behind
Oblivion
You fell
Far
Down to the ever shrinking world
Fast
Your body broke
Lost
I lost all of the pieces
I am alone
Facing the storm
Goodbye
World
I watched its antics
Down
The rain pelted
Hard
The lightning struck
As I fell
Low
Down to the ground
Lost
I appear broken
Oblivion
I scream
Pain
For the rest of my days
Till I am gone
I will die a useless death
One in a million
Ways
That no one cares
OBLIVION!
DESECRATION!
DESERTION!
SALVATION!
DENIAL!
BURNING!
OBLIVION!
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
I will have you know that you are in the mine-ority
If you don’t look at my pic and insta-click “like” on me
I thrive in this weblight, you subsist in ambig-you-ity
Mine is the looking glass of Aphrod-I-te
The un-My-ghty look on my aesthetic perfection and despair
I am the reason there is an earth
All was designed to usher in my triumphant birth
You are just hateful ab-you-sers and mis-you-sers
YOU are YOUVENILE YOULINQUENTS!
I am the oh-so-fleeting truth
Present in a world obsessed with youth
I am only worth what others see in me
I embody the my-jority
My onscreen attention antics
Are the me-ssential components
Required to build a thriving Me-ocracy.
~
NM
10/17/14
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
Angry apes arguing
Odd owls ogling
Extravagant emus eloping
Slimy slugs slithering
Wandering worms wriggling
Jaunty jays jumping
Testy tigers thundering
Grumpy giraffes grazing
All animals amazing
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 7:54 AM UTC
I search for some decor
to pretty up my house
A headboard, some dead boards
or maybe a couch?
The said so to do it
on public TV
my kitchens not pretty
as pretty as can be
But what will the neighbors
think of my design?
they'll report to the magazine
that it's beautiful and sublime!
Some ship lap, some sconces
all wrapped in a bow
i will trend till tomorrow
then die all alone
Rip it all down
Says Chip and Joanna
They are more popular
Than Hanna Montanna
They live on a ranch
an take millions to make
a spectacular suprise
for a couple to take
We all laugh an cheer
at Chip's child like antics
Which makes great TV
as Joanna gets Frantic!
Do Chip and Joanna really
care about you?
As long as the station
gets ten million views
They tell us to fix it
even though it's not broken
go shop till you drop
and spend every token
Buy that cool sign
made from cheap yellow plastic
The richer get richer
but, our wall looks fantastic!
Do not give in
to the big corporate greed
there are sick, hungry people
and starving mouths to feed
so every cent spent
on the corporate wealth
helps the richer get richer
and we go to stealth
Wake up and see vanity
is causing distress
don't give in to pressure
of this corporate mess!
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 10:44 PM UTC
From the outside he is unfinished and grotesque
A figure conjured up by a devilish intelligence
Out to shock the world with his ghoulish antics
For who could find such glee in such contortion
But as always poor **** sapiens is off the mark
For inside this morbid cask of human digression
Lies a trove of bountiful beauty in aesthetic abandon
The beauty inside the man is the work of a maetsro
Poetry that seizes the imagination is his speciality
And music that arrests even the gods is his forte
So be not hasty to judge what you see before you
Let the scales that blind your inner vision drop off
And there before your newly-tutored eyes
Will lie an essence of such beauty as you can never imagine
Loudly proclaiming the worth of the person inside the shell
And how disability is only a layer that when peeled off
Unveils the inimitable jewel inside in its range and depth
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 3:24 AM UTC
And Then I Met Her
It was our first meet
When i saw her
My heart skipped a beat
I was on one side of the road
And She on the other
Everything was in my favor
and yes that weather.
As, i got close to her She got blushed.
Her cheeks turned red as Petals of a flower.
Her relishing antics, her blushing cheeks
And her cute expression.
I couldn't take my eyes off for the session.
She drove me crazy
She was looking beautiful like daisy.
Starring at each other's eyes was making a beautiful sound.
And made me feel as if there was no one around.
The way she put her hand on the chin.
I'm falling fa you, i said with a grin.
I noticed that smile on her face.
And i was thinking her to embrace.
She's an Ocean, her eyes deep sea-blue
I failed reading those as she left no clue.
Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 1:16 AM UTC
Venti, I admire,
I wish I was like you who soars through the sky.
Free like the bird you are,
Unburdened by worries,
just like stars dancing at night.
venti sits.
Up in his statue,
He admires the city,
that he built.
Venti, my sweet,
How lovely is it for us to meet,
Your green hair, your glowing locks,
Please comfort my soul, so my heart will be unlocked.
Your voice, your longing stare,
I love that you're always waiting there.
Your dreams, your goals,
I love that you'd rather be free,
like the god of wind! You fly happily.
Venti, my sweet,
stop drinking wine,
you're higher than a grape vine.
Venti, my sweet,
You prevent me from getting enough sleep.
my thoughts wander,
to your fantasy world I wish to discover.
Your calming presence speaks,
volumes of comfort,
You never fail to bring me relief.
May you sleep well.
I'll be back for tomorrow before you say farewell.
I love your antics, I love your voice.
I love that you play with me, I love that you bring me joy.
Venti, my sweet,
Come have a picnic with me!
At Windrise, for an afternoon tea.
There's cake, there's biscuits,
a lovely day, for you and me.
A picnic, with me!
I'm sorry, I didn't get you alcohol,
I worry about your alcohol capacity.
It rains.
You once asked me to come out and play,
over puddles, in patches of green grass, mist and hay,
What a lovely way to spend the day.
venti,
your beauty is like no other,
as pretty as the stars under glistening skies, its no wonder.
I fell for your grace, I fell for your personality,
how your smile brightens up my day entirely.
slander your name, they do,
but I shall savor my time spent with you.
right or wrong, they dictate,
but I shall pay them no mind, as always, my playmate.
you live in my mind,
however you like.
as long as you're happy,
I feel peace, basking in the moonlight.
Dec 15, 2020
Dec 15, 2020 at 2:07 AM UTC
Nightmares. I hate them.
They keep me awake,
They torture me.
They won’t let me wake up.
“Sleep! Sleep!” they say.
“Stay awake! Watch out!” they taunt.
So tired….
I’m falling…it’s so dark.
I grasp air, scramble for a hold.
I find it!
I scrape my hands and hit my leg
The jolt and the pain wakes me again.
I can’t sleep.
It’s not safe in the dark
Ah! I can’t stand the light
Nightmares…Dammit! I hate them!
My dearest, yes, that’s it.
My darling!
My love, he keeps me safe.
He’ll talk to me; comfort!
No, he’s sleeping.
I cannot bother him.
Sleep.
Nightmares.
Falling….
No!
My love…yes, there it is.
He’s so warm, I can feel it now.
Mmm, my darling;
he will not let me fall.
He will always hold on
Despite myself, despite my temper
Despite my rants, despite my antics.
Through all the…the…
Anger!
Frustration!
Overexcitement and
Fear!
Distress and worry!
Paranoia!
**** those nightmares!
I can’t help it.
I’m sorry.
I just….
So much feeling.
I get…
Jumbled.
I get…
Mixed up?
I don’t know
He helps me.
Holds me.
Loves me, even.
How?
I cry and scream,
I back away,
He follows.
I’m sorry.
I just get so jumbled.
He holds me.
I’m so tired…
Sleep, oh sleep….
I close my eyes
And I’m falling.
It’s so dark, hands are grabbing for me.
The light, I want to find it
But I can’t! I’m being
Chased.
******
Nightmares, I hate them!
Why can’t they be quiet, go away…
SHUT UP!
LEAVE ME ALONE!
I’m so tired
I just
I Get so
Jumbled.
Up and Up and Up
And I can’t stop
I’ll fall.
The light, why is it so bright?
Nightmares, voices, people, monsters
Get away all of you!
No,
Not you.
I need you, don’t go
Please.
I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean it.
It’s the nightmares
I feel like I’m falling,
Like I’m being chased
These things, they’re everywhere,
And the light, it’s too bright
And I get so jumbled
I can’t help it.
I’m so tired.
“Sleep! Sleep!”
“Stay awake! Watch out!”
Will the taunting ever end?
Darling…wake up….
I can’t wake up.
I’m being chased
I can’t stop, or else
I’ll fall.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
Dancing freely between shades-of-gray thoughts,
they are not me.
I am the stage on which they act their role.
Laugh at their voice,
serene bliss-filled peace lay amid mindsets.
Childish antics
play their someday-one day game all in vain,
and would rather suffer than lose themselves.
*Cavatina:
The Italian form consists of a ten (10) syllable non rhyming line alternating with a four (4) syllable rhyming line, at least three (3) times and completed with a ten syllable line couplet.
I had some help with this one, I borrowed some phrases from E. Tolle*
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
What is home without our daughter?
What then of all those folk we meet?
When her dimpled smile no longer
Brightens the coming of our feet?
Days drag onward, long nights grow drear
As time so coldly marches on;
And how we miss her golden cheer!
When now those carefree days are gone.
Things we prize are quick to vanish,
Fond hearts we love to pass away;—
And how soon, e'en in life's sorrow
Yearn we for noisy hours to stay.
Eyes grow sad, fades life's brief glow,
For golden days longtime have passed,
And it breaks mother's heart to know—
Gay childhood's day is o'er at last.
Many folk bemoan their trifles,
Trivial things to pass away,
But a daughter lost to childhood
Breaks the heart from day to day.
Laid away tired broken toys;
Her babyish prattle, antics past;
Upon these times we miss her noise.
She has turned a woman at last.
~Hilda~
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 4:38 PM UTC
You take me out,
and pull my strings,
and for you, I do a bunch of things,
when you get bored you lock me up,
with the rest of your things, like your old firetruck.
I'm all alone
in this box
my home
and I want to be free
I want someone with me.
I want to be taken out
my happiest time, no doubt,
playing,
laughing at my antics,
it sure beats that box, and all its Lego bricks
take me with you wherever you go
and know
through it all
I'll be there when you fall
because
your my owner
and I'm your doll.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
**We are a funny lot
As in, seriously… we delve into ‘funny’ a lot
Very rarely does a day go by
That I don’t come across something that cracks my funny bone…
Or as a Kenyan would put it ‘makes me just die!’
Body bag
The Kenyan
This specimen of human is always quick and capable of ridiculing anyone’s apparent "swag"
Everyone gets a turn here… so do not huff when you’re ‘it’
There must be a reason you joined this dissing game… this unique Kenyan version of ‘tag’
Just remember
The rules are simple, really
Keep it above the belt, unless upon exception...
They also clearly allow one to feign concession
Yes, these rules highly encourage strategic deception
Kind of like what our politicians do before the main election
But also if you paint a target on your back… you will get shot at...
By everyone… and I mean everyone
I haven’t seen anyone do that and elude the social media firing squad yet
Computers and phones in this case, acting as the internet's version of the bayonet
And watch closely if you’re ‘it’… for the inevitable, the friends that will stab you in the back
It’s bound to happen, as much as this may ****
The memes will come by the truck load… in what may seem like a self driven truck…
With a life of its own
Just ask Susan Mirfat
The most recently owned!
We’re a funny lot I tell you
Loose cannons almost
Our leaders’ shenanigans, our parents’ semantics and our own clownish antics…
Prove that despite…
How mature as a country we've become…
We’re still all just a bunch of children, inside.**
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
i failed to mention
the frail dimensions
of my pale existence
no details specific
just the vaguest senses
of a plagued decision
that locks my life in prison
for an extended sentence
but when you inch in to visit
i get intricate visions
with our limbs all twisted
in romantic antics
& the only thing between
you, true love, & me
besides bedspreads & sheets
is my dead self esteem
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 6:50 PM UTC
you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak,
well, attire me in slavic myths and
i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too
for a helium bubble to become a comedian,
i know a jittery ******* addiction
when i see one...
if one thing the catholic schooling system
taught me was how to avoid
sniffing glue and how to recognise
a Freudian apostle - still, with all
the hippy **** you'd think
sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism
prescribed with paracetamol,
catholic education just said: no no.
**** me it's the late 90s and we're talking
post-Chernobyl antics...
but that's how i see the left, leftist politics,
the right
utilises prefixes and suffixes in the
old stance of simple pre- pro-
anti-
qua-
-so so...
the left? oh they're right in there...
their prefixes are
Marxist-
liberal-
Hegelian-
whatnot...
they don't
use abstract prefixes,
their prefixes
are concrete,
they want the porridge in their mouth
to ensure a slur that never comes,
among a range of onomatopoeias they argue
from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd,
via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech
to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother,
****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method;
i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo
experimenting, it's called experimenting with
thought rather than practising with will,
former no chance of footstep evaluation for
cult status imitable -
the left intellectual
has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro -
it has to be concrete layered and a shut off
perfect architecture without fault -
it can't be what it is -
con-
has to be conservative
pro-
has to be socialist
you once said legitimate
transparency - but you didn't say legislation -
well, the left understood it as legislation,
the right too wanted legitimate transparency -
the green party said we could have neither
but could have the replanting of a thousand
oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first
oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest...
b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye -
hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity
too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's
fingernail toothpick!
at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of
place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes!
ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding!
*** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
You get the know it alls
Their noses stuck rigidly in books like bookmarks
You get the geeks
Gamers with eyes shrunk; shiny braces flashing
You get the quiet ones
Assessing everything going on; owlish blinks
You get the cheeky ones
Hilarious antics all around; always surprising
You get the nosy ones
With obnoxious questions and averting eyes
You get the prissy neat freaks
Panicking religiously over messes; loud moaner
You get the bossy buck tooth's
Spit spraying whilst barking out orders; drone-like
You get the wannabes
*Prepping up as the popular chicks; total **** ups*
And you get me
With total judgement and disdain evident
Making me a **classic ***** ; plastic
With her typical high school stereotypes
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 5:35 AM UTC
You call me a fire,
I call you air.
You say I'm always the light in the darkness,
I say you're the one who keeps me burning.
You told me how fast I stole your heart,
I told you you always had mine.
You hug me when your cold,
I hug you when I needed you.
You carry me when I fell,
I watched you fly.
You taught me how to love,
I held you to the ground.
You tell me I burn all I touch,
I asked if you were burned.
You laugh at my antics,
I cry at all your wounds.
You tell me you love me,
I tell you, we'll always be the best of friends.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 2:54 AM UTC
No one is perfect
Or expected to be
Unless you happen to share a gene or two with this sort
And as if their generation was completely right
(the pattern of perceived perfection is a long lineage)
They pass their judgment
One generation to the next
The gossip makes its way across state lines
The tale of manipulation and corruption
Bred within our borders
Finds its place with mythical tales
Of mobsters and cat burglars
On cops
You work your magic
Sweet-talking people out of money
Not even Satan’s speech was so smooth
Talent for memorizing numbers
Credit card
Pin
But not your grandmother’s
Stuns all
If she knew of your antics
Pallbearers would have a heavy load
But fear not
Keeping secrets from the old and feeble
Is our talent
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
Crowded lakeside,
more than expected
on a normal day.
Hoping for a quiet
rendezvous in private
she looked aghast,
at such a turn of events,
nevertheless started
to make eyes at him;
patience wasn't her best friend.
Shutting up like a clam
he was a picture of contrast.
Every desire she expressed turned
to a love sick wood duck
soon a flock was billing and cooing
preening and polishing in haste,
making amorous advances
with an aggressiveness suggesting
intolerance to his reticence.
They chased his silence with
irresistible mating calls,
raising hell as if in heat,
making him regret.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 2:30 PM UTC
makeup smudged, mascara runs
down the face of that stupid *****
Canceled plans, teenage antics are now ******* up and forgotten
fooling everyone but her self, she wears her heart upon her sleeve
wrapped up in others concerns, forgotten who she use to be
only comfortable when not her self, what a depressing life to lead
She is on a leash being tugged and pulled, she knows she has a master
behind the painted nails and the perfect scented perfume lies a ***** at deaths door
Jan 1, 2010
Jan 1, 2010 at 1:43 PM UTC