"attachable" poems
I lived my half dictionary life before I could
comprehend compulsory compromises.
Collectors arise, disguises and devices beeping,
chastising my blindness.
Gather geography from Afghanistan and Myanmar
graciously growing gold gilded gift horses,
gleefully gloating about floating far away.
My hoof beats above concrete match my heart’s defeat
across borders and mountains
embroidering cardboard cut-outs
calling deserts, decorating front covers.
Exhaling handcrafted letters for my missing half,
half demanding highest caliber commanders and half commanding completion.
Jade jays joyfully lay arrays of bouquets
fragile flowers decay faraway
in jawbones and jail cells.
Begging farewells in a hotel’s lobby
began my hobby,
early morning coffee and carbon copies
concurringly cocky around his dead body.
Gang ciphers for cartels are
Christmas bells hissing at collars,
half dollars embellishing bar crawlers
godfathers hollering at car haulers.
Atrocities across cities attack,
attachable atrophies audibly ambush arthritic anthologies.
Anomalies begin apologies between apostrophes,
advancing autonomy arousing ancient animosities.
All eluding Antarctica,
giant frozen crests, multi-coloured ice
hidden in my illustrations
anxious for my distant half.
Friday cassettes and cigarettes
deliberately making bets following “M”.
Breaking bindings and finding “beta” in alphabet,
may feasibly end in debt.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
This body was birthed without an
attachable heart
Love won't even try to cling
To a machine
Already falling
apart.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
My cat is black with bright green eyes
How I wish I knew her cries
That comes once every night
When I'm in the kitchen
She is such a great pain
When I try and clean
My broom, it did not come
With an attachable chum
Who thinks it's mighty great
To attack my chores and feet
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
Humans aren't machines we don't have attachable weapons. What kind sick coperations turn people into deadly shape shooters.
No one knows what we really are.
Every day is different not the same.
We aren't made to **** our own.
We only **** to provide food for our young so they can grow and send another wave of generations.
Humans aren't made to ****
But only one thing that can unleash ****** he'll is when we see one person take or kills someone.
We only **** to take the target that you saw KI'll.
Me
I'm not a Droid
I'm not a machine
I'm not a cold blooded slasher
I'm not aggressive to get payback
I can only set in motion a wave of thoughts that will stop and freeze the ****** battle field.
I'm not a Millitary machin.
But I am a 007 agent with tricks with a mind that is a steel trap.
I'm not a pure aggressive killer.
I am my own 007 that has a mind of ideas that can change society from the cold industrial bleAK fear.
I am my own supper soldier. Not a aggressive scared cornered animal.
Humans only **** when some one kills a person who is your friend.
We have our road we set in motion.
We set innovative ideas making the world functional.
We could be brained washed into a cold blooded weapon. Or we could set in motion wave that will end all the ****** pure agression death that blood covers our hands
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 8:26 AM UTC