"bandanna" poems
bandanna knotted in your hair,
you are
eloquently attired, and almost
always a little late; it ok.
you aren't
beholden
to standard notions of
punctuality or
Americanized dreams of
mechanistic triumph over the
virus of Nature.
you are more and less and equal to
the sum of your
constituent parts and
you are exquisite.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
This is how i remember it...
The first time that i saw her
was on the 14th day of July.
It has been exactly one year
since the day i laid my eyes
on this beautiful girl
and on that day
I knew exactly what love
looked like.
Love wore a red plaid shirt and
a red bandanna.
Love took my breath away.
I just knew that
I had to know her name.
Moments passed,
I finally gained the courage to
ask Love to join me.
Then there i was,
Staring at Love,
as if I couldn't believe
that she's finally here
after years of searching for her.
Love reached out her hand,
opened her mouth,
and said her name.
Right there and then, I knew that Love has entered my life.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
Voice resounding in my head
(timpani)
Melodyharmony
everythinginbetween
harmonymelody
In the bloom of your
sprite-like youth.
You were His first creation
Women constructed from your broken ribs
and all else from dust
as you shall be.
Bodies of cracked red earth and
Sunshine
Of absent goodnight kisses
and cigarettes.
Skin to skin
Sweat to sweat
(whose is whose)
You
made of
Brittle bones rattling through your sighs
Pulsing through the sinews of your legs
hidden beneath thin skin
pale
beating, feeble heart
Who can tell from my lying eyes
behind the blackandwhite bandanna
(peekaboo)
Of a folded
diaphanous paper moon
amid a field of stars.
Jul 25, 2011
Jul 25, 2011 at 2:25 PM UTC
behind barricades
before the red bandanna meant you were a Crip or Blood
undaunted, refusing to be
..........intimidated
nameless
.....(known only
to
..........................YOUR LOVE
as "love")
the streets are red with the ******
dreams our youth is bleeding
on these streets
but then the gangs recieved from the c.i.a.
control over the drug trade
and killed us all
-----
(behind barricades)
the liars are everywhere and those most visable
are
the greatest of the liars
speaking softly sanely
to you all................
.....................in
words-
impossible
--
love is a powerful feeling
only love
means a thing
Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 4:13 PM UTC
R.I.P. tatoo Just below the right knee
one more down in the concrete jungle.
chalk line washed fading in the night wind.
Yellow tape flutters in the breeze.like break away kites
caught up in the trees.
Rat a tat tat. brings rat a tat tat.
Young mother wailing on buckled knees.
Firing line drawn in blues and reds
claiming turf with a bandanna head.
Rat a tat tat brings rat a tat tat.
Head stones lined up. waiting for the dead
R.I P. in faded ink. Live by the sword
hey what did you think.
Rat a tat tat bring rat a pay back.
Cactus flower sprouts around thorns
Beauty nestled in blood red sun.
Live by the gun and die by the gun
Rat a tat tat. Brings rat a tat tat.
right down to the ground. the ground. The dust.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 8:19 PM UTC
Reflected onto the face of the sun is you.
You, who shine so bright
are an everlasting symbol.
A symbol of what?
Of the moon, of the stars.
Of it all.
And at the end of the day when I think about you
and I think about all of them,
The Boy With The Sunshine Face,
The Boy I Love More Than All Others,
The Boy With The Bandanna,
The Girl Not Named George Lopez,
The Girl Inconveniently Wearing Boots,
and all the others,
I think about love.
And I think about this group
and how we will undoubtedly fall apart.
And I think about how there's nothing we can do about.
Things change.
I'm the same, trust me. It's only that everybody else is different
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
Aborigines in the Australian outback
Among starving dingoes
A drug deal going on behind the bowling alley
And a butterfly knife waiting to be put into someones gut
Show some skin
Then maybe you will get somewhere at the customer service desk
Buyer beware, consumer keep cautious
Lay waste to that place and get your money back
They sold you an amphibian and told you it was a marsupial
The clerk wrote your inconvenience off as null
Off in Puerto Rico there's a cockfight
Pass the bug replant
Dos cervezas por favor
It's a steel cage grudge match
Brought to you by the courtesy of some man who's name I cannot pronounce
I got my invitation to this thing in a basket of tropical fruit
Someplace near substructure homes
I see a man in a bandanna looking at me
He turned out to be a free lance astronomer who has a thesis on starry quadrilaterals in the sky
He thought by betting on the bigger rooster he would hit pay dirt
But it was I who met pay day when I bet on the smaller, faster one
The astronomer had so much hate in his eyes I thought his corneas were going to burst
Be pulled out a blade and chased after me and all my winnings with the intent to puncture my torso and pillage my pockets
But had to go see a man about a horse named "Nunya"
Luckily I got away clean to tall the tale
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
So you pulled again.
In Essex, in London, in Leeds, in Weymouth...
The list goes on.
Why do you always tell me?
I'm not jealous. You're just ******* them.
But that photo with your arm around her.
You ****** her too, I'm sure.
Complimentary of toga night you're pretty much semi-naked.
It was the two lipstick marks on your bicep that got me.
Not one, but two! On your perfectly firm, right bicep.
The one I gladly tied a blue ribbon around, whilst
my face was turning as pink as my Girl Power bandanna.
I hope you'll change back to the changed man you said you would be,
after the Fresher's fortnight is done.
If not, as opposed to ******** me emotionally,just **** me too.
It'll never be enough, but it's better than your smug texts! x
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 7:34 PM UTC
I wouldn't normally understand
Quite how to say it
But if you listen close
This might just start to explain it
You see, it's a secret
A tiny little world
Where a boy can be a boy
And a girl can be a girl
I had a house there
that I shared with my friends
We resided there quite peacefully
Drinking, dancing on the weekends
But an earthquake shook
the whole wide world
When my third friend
took to flight
Flew back to Earth
on a pretty pink balloon
Now he's the moon
But I don't see it out
That often
Maybe if you're lucky
One day the clouds will open
But I don't think that's
gonna happen
My second friend and I
Flew back as well
But compared to our tiny world
Earth starts to look
a little like hell
There's no bandanna in the
crack between
the bed and the wall
And I can't smoke ***
when I walk down the sidewalk
But that's okay
We're here to stay
Without the moon on our side
But we still got a whole world to change
I won't tell you how
I've told far too much already
But anyway back to the story
My second friend is lost
outside somewhere in the dark
the clouds are clocking out the moon, she
can't follow her heart
And I understand her sorrow
Cause I'm just a moth
on the wall
that was attracted to the moon's glow
Where'd it go?
But I got too close to the light
And it almost burned me
Don't get too close to it
It can burn you too
But it's beautiful
Magnificent and magical
If it would just come back
I wouldn't be
scared of the glow
I'd keep my distance
She loves the moon too much
I don't know if she can resist it
Or if she even wants to
the light burned her
so much she kinda lost it
"I wouldn't blame you
If you wanted to fly
our spaceship
Back to our little planet."
I can't tell her that
Cause I'm not sure
either of us know
exactly how to get there
Our only chance is to
take a picture,
make some changes
We just have to get out
of the dark
Which way is that again?
Well I forgot where we parked
But we can find the light again.
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 4:52 PM UTC
I never wrote about it.
I don't like to remember.
And few people know.
But I want people to know the story.
---------------------------------------
I was depressed.
My dad and his sexism towards me,
My moms screams over every little thing.
Everything seemed to be turned against me.
I wanted to end it all.
Death by asphyxiation.
Tying a bandanna tightly around my neck
And going to sleep.
I was sure it would work.
I tied it pretty tightly and all I had to do
Was finish tying the knot.
Three times.
So I couldn't back out.
I almost got to the second loop,
And I heard the beep.
I never read the text.
I just responded with
What I thought was accurate.
And, without my permission,
The knots untied.
And your name was the only thing I saw.
I liked you before then,
But after that, I knew I would grow to love you.
Something told you to text me right then.
Whether it be a selfish reason, or an instinct,
You saved my life.
And now you're a big part of it.
And I hope to the God I don't believe in
That it will, stay that way.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
The debate is on
I want to perform
but first I must
humidify my guitar
Ate dinner
now there's a lump in my throat
so I'm gonna sit here
drinking tea 'till I feel
paradoxically soothed and energized
hamburger and homefries
the summer dish
perfect for outside
but here I sit in my A/C winterland
conditioning myself for hats and gloves
The water's warming and rising
the mosquito larvae have won
Itching in Yellow Fever delirium
These grassy hollows
were once a worthwhile place
The new wonders are now
grotesque animistic anomalies
Today, face-to-face with rabid rabbits
Tomorrow, the white light angels
with hyper beam cleansing
they could no longer bear to watch
from porcelain obelisks
the human media screen
of indoor inexploration
fail to hide the sins
from the scale holding counters
Justice, the lucky one
with bandanna over eyes
still heard the profit wrenching semantics
get drowned out from screaming harpies
Responsible gods stopped their foray
in fear humans will survive
Dark matter engulfs all
in fear humans will survive
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
Have you ever felt so fluttered,
That you need to dream?
I once saw an Angel,
With warm blonde hair and soft cream cheeks.
Freckles were scattered all about the face,
And his eyes were peaceful through his glasses.
Did I mention his tone?
A gentle lilac of laughs and no harm.
His bandanna holds the sweet sweat that lays on his forehead.
Hair pushed back,
And mouth full of silver goodness.
Must I remind you,
This angel wears whatever he wants to wear.
From ugly sweaters, to rugged band shirts.
Hair so blonde,
It hides within his skin.
You look around,
You won't find this type of angel.
This angel seeks peace like any other angel,
But yet differs.
This angel makes me dream soft,
Makes me flutter.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
A fist split the silence
the hard packing sound
followed by a liquid clogged choke
and Joe went under the water
limp in my arms
crimson red permeating through the cool blue salt water
of my parents’ pool
Nolan rubbing his hand - laughing
**** I didn’t mean to actually hit him
and we all laughed because it was a play fight
we were young, looking for answers which didn’t exist
so we filled the void like many of us did
with the seething, impotent aggression of youth
It went Gangsta rap
to punk rock
to heavy metal
and Joe and Nolan were in a band
and Joe and Nolan professed their love of Satan
because Satan never made them sit still and be quiet
they burned bibles and summoned demons
from an online version of the Necronomicon
and we went to shows
at fourteen and fifteen
drinking beer and whiskey in the alley out back
with all of the local rock stars
we hurled ourselves -
arms draped around each others’ shoulders -
into the swirling whirlwind of fists
and studded leather
and sweat and beer and blood
where grown men punched us in the face
and we gave back as good as we got
hugging afterwards in the warm glow of our pain
we were alive on the front lines
hanging from the edge that everybody else strayed from
domesticated wolves scared of electric fence flags
Nolan went crowd surfing at the Municipal Waste concert
only to be dropped into a stomping pile of ****** off kids
his lips split open and I gave him my bandanna to soak up the blood
I still have that ***** rag around here somewhere
He needed six stitches inside his lower lip
but we didn’t leave until after the show
even when the fire marshals came to shut us down
when ceiling fans and trash cans were being thrown around like beach *****
we were just kids
confronted with the meaninglessness of everything we had been raised to hold on to
like life rafts
we were just kids to whom
destruction seemed far more important
than creation
if we were ever going to make anything for ourselves
in this concrete clad hell scape
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
I got a little canoe
and set sail to the moon
I took my bandanna and pulled it tight.
Grand Dads bottle of Makers Mark was my good supply
some Marlboro Smooths and a old swiss army knife incase I got shipwrecked.
I cashed in my last paycheck and told my boss I wasn't comming back
I had a Full Moon to catch and the sun was already setting.
I ran into Johnny **** Eyes at Holiday Gas Station and asked if he had any of them mushrooms still and if he had a extra couple hits of acid..... "Infact he replied I just got myself a quarter and about a 10 strip of acid for myself but your going to the moon right... in that old *** canoe your Grand Dad gave you when he passed away. I replied " Yeah Johnny I got a Harvest Moon thats not gonna be waiting long mind if you just toss me a deal and give me the whole shabang." I pulled a friend card and mentioned the time I hooked him up with 4 double stack X pills back in the day and also cut him a deal on a Rothbury ticket. Needless to say he handed that **** over. So back to the river shore where I began the tale I was scared of what was to come, I was scared to just leave without anyone knowing. I put on my old converse sneakers strapped up my suspenders put a little engine oil in my hair to slick it back and rolled my sleaves up in my flannel said a little prayer to Grand Dad that his canoe would make it... I remember watching him build it with his strong hands before the parkinsons kicked in... I remember him telling me that this ****** could go to the moon and back.... so I popped 3 hits of acid took a big swig out of the Makers Mark, Lit a Cig and said to the sky well Grand Dad you better be right.... You better be right
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
It hurts...this grief, this emptiness,
this ache for what will never be...
it hurts
It hurts...the pain is unbearable.
It feels like someone has surgically removed my heart
and they forgot to sew me back up,
they forgot to put me back together.
It's this unbearable grief, this emptiness inside of me.
I miss him so much.
It's this huge longing for something that will never be...
it hurts...it hurts so much.
And I cannot stop crying from the ache.
I don't know how to get past it.
I don't know if I can.
I don't know if it's possible.
It hurts
It hurts so much to have this aching need that will never be real again.
Tonight I am surrounded by all my memories of Jimmy. Thinking that somehow it will all bring me healing energy…help put my broken heart back together. Pictures of us as kids, the sweet letters we shared as adults when we no longer lived in the same states, his high school varsity jacket, his favorite bandanna. Even after all this time, I can still smell his cologne and if I squeeze my eyes shut I can almost believe that you are here with me.
I miss Jimmy tonight.
I miss his safety, and his comfort...
He made me feel safe.
I need that tonight.
I need him.
It hurts so much.
It hurts...
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
My tired eyes and red
glow on the tip of my last
cigarette tells me it’s way
past midnight again as I
try roping a star smoking
on my porch by the light
of a big old yellow moon
and I could have sworn I
saw her riding by wearing
black boots, her tight-assed
jeans and a blue bandanna
heading west to Montana.
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 4:01 AM UTC
Up and over walls and weeds,
ever-towards the tower did we climb
wrapped about with anxiety and anger,
isolated ahead of the herd
alone, we lead,
a mob edging closer
to storm-filled skies.
A bed of rocks, debris of cans,
sky-touch achieved:
we'd been first
to reach the roof.
Lightning storm to the east,
fog to the fore
and soon, somewhere nearby,
a stereo, playing the music of my youth
framing the sound of people laughing,
people drinking
men climbing too high
but mercifully, never falling.
A green gasmask, a black bandanna,
two flashlights and two bodies, pale of skin:
we again set out apart from the mob,
lost ourselves in computer crypts,
lamp graveyards,
uniform-chair depositories,
a ghost-floor filled with superstition and cauldrons.
Varieties of folder,
both manila and hanging,
bound across your back -
you got what you came for.
So did I.
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 4:53 PM UTC
How did I get here?
I woke up in a chair on a concrete slab
That appeared to be surrounded by a field of grass as far as the eye can see
There were few trees in the distance
It was a cool summer morning with sun rays piercing through the light fog
Then I noticed women I didn't recognized sitting across from me
She had very short brown hair almost looked like she was wearing a bandanna of brown
Her hair was thin and wispy just like the features on her face
Her eyes were dark but she had loveliest smile
For some reason I was really comfortable sitting across from this stranger
We started talking and we had the greatest conversation we were just talking about life and shared a few laughs
We were both drinking some tea
I had a pink mug
She had an easter blue one
She talked with so much life in her voice although you could tell she was in so much pain but at peace with her current state it was honestly hard to watch
I don't remember how the conversation got to what she said next
She looked me dead in the eye with her tear filled eyes and said, "I don't think you realize how happy you make my daughter." I haven't seen her carry herself so lightly since she was my little girl.......
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC
There's a girl bopping her head to the music,
A boy wanderin' 'round with a guitar
Who don't know how to use it.
Traffic fills my ears and eyes,
Onions and smoke and fries.
Beat up sneakers and flip flops
Bandanna people with orange tops,
Hipsters, tricksters
Hustlers and saints
Empty, wandering, full of complaints.
Broken, discordant conversations
Elaborate, intricate exaggerations
Dusty, ugly sidewalk
Happy, ugly small talk.
Sighs and trees...
Silent pleas
From the lost
Who couldn't pay the cost
To belong:
An aria for the wrong.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
Travelling back from all the bars.
With all the men with flying cars.
Who are living on the planet Mars.
My pint was finished.
My glass was smashed.
More so than me.
Ha ha,
No driving of his flying car,
Drink driving is not good you see.
Sipping drinks from a shiny chalice, beside the Martian sea.
There before me stood in good stead a fella seeking true love,
He found me on a cosmic dating agency.
He was a striking shade of red.
And around his head
He wore a blazing blue bandanna.
I offered him much sustenance in the form of a banana.
What I never knew was that,bananas were toxic to Martian men.
Never again!
Gave him vile flatulence.
No chance of romance, with this lovely Martian chap.
His belly went off with a dreadful bang.
Poor good looking Martian fella,
Belly ruptured.
Blood bright yellow.
Not a very pleasant sight.
Home I go alone tonight.
Martians are hopeless overnight.
(c)LIVVI
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
All I had to do was lie down and close my eyes.
Listen to his voice take me deep down inside myself.
Suddenly, there is a wooden double door at the base of a mountain.
He tells me, "Open your unconscious and step inside... What do you see?"
A boy with blue saucers piercing my brain,
tied up to a chair with a bandanna over his mouth.
Those blue saucers... how menacing.
I release him from the chair and he stands up and looks at me.
His blue saucers looking at me like I'm the alien.
I hang out there for a while until the voice says...
"Come back to this reality, shut the door behind you;
at the count of ten open your eyes."
I come back.
But him... he stays behind... untied but waiting.
For me to open the door again.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 8:22 PM UTC
Emotions thinner than the tin
That my dinner came from
Ambitions gone like my mind
At the party after prom
Skin scratched and stained
A life time of regret
Worth the pain
Not wanting to get out of bed in the morning
Legs gone lame
But no ones mourning
No reason to find direction
Writing plain, without discretion
Caring little and less about forged perfection
Living on a disposable income
Hoping I find long term affection
Still waiting patiently on that one discovery
Anything to separate myself from me
My shins from my knees
There's a windy city chill
But there's no use blaming the pills
Hands left hanging
Like a bandanna
Dangling, waving
From the homeless man's head
Expression couldn't make me a dime
In todays market of drones
Still feeling fine
Without staring into my phone
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC