"bantering" poems
( i )
I lucked out
on table 4 last night
window seat
baseboard heat
with intimate passages
from Ginsberg
in his purest
and most evident form
Cover-all Carl was draped
in his usual garb
(turning pages
of yesterday's news)
animating, culturing, bantering
on the fate of the
Greek barber
(in an accent of which
I'm not so sure)
His cronies
looked on
(with a twisted conviction)
countering
with their own tales
of ingovernance and woe
*did you know that Panasonic
lost 5 billion last quarter?*
The evening moved
in time lapse...
with painted winds,
streaming lights
and a host of
high school girls
running cold
Maleah passed
on her late shift
(checking the pile and trough),
patronized the boys
and called it a night
( ii )
The bald man
is back at it again
bickering at the till
(something about
a cold free coffee
or 99 cents
or the coloured guy
behind him who got it hot)
a kind Filipino
is trying to get it done
(at 8 bucks per)
losing her cool
and shedding a quiet tear
Wonder what the Purewals
or Haitians or Cossacks
would have to say
about this grim public reminder,
wonder what
this sad f*ck
will do tonight...
without his
bus pass
or sling sack
or broken Turkish stems
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
A dart of a glance
Felt across a crowded room.
A playful bantering
turned to something darker, deeper.
A smoldering gaze
lasting just a second too long.
A hesitant hand
pushing a stray curl into place.
Coherent thoughts
turned into an unlikely jumble.
And that one question
is answered,
using no words,
except the ones in the language
that has withstood millenia of human existence,
the language of seduction.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC
Save My Soul, (But First), Rub My Feet
thus a poem auditorialy conceived,
but!
the sexuality of the deceiving dualities,
irritates erogenous, exogenous perceptiveties,
plethora of intensifying variables, a not-serious,
harmless remark yet bring us to myriad of
marauding reversals, add-venturing into harm’s way…
much to discuss, but this
topic bettered by much
trading of traditional bantering
brevity bettering our wordless battering
insinuating, sensational signals bring
us backwards & forwards
to an exploratorium of wide boulevards
back to new unfamiliar venues,
narrowing alleyways & places we were before,
places before we were before where,
no unnecessary commas to separate,
distingué, distinct
tween the instinct of old and new,
an uncommon commonality experiential revisionism
now I understand what you said to me,
a tenderizing of
the sole synapses directing
the brain, the old ooh ‘s, aah’s
reigniting what what lay dormant,
at long last,
by opening doors to alternations,
ven diagram of digressing yet intersecting
old & new pathways,
from the souls of her feet,
to, too, two,
we become diamond
on souls of our heat
May 30, 2023
May 30, 2023 at 4:50 PM UTC
Your thoughts are far from the ground,
Like cumulonimbus clouds thundering by
And pouring rain.
Life seems to pass by, scattered and wispy
with the sound of the wind like a whistling train playing
as you stare at the elusive silver lining.
The pit patter of Peter Pan being lost
dwells heavy in your heart,
As you revise the sequence of the cumulus memories.
Life paces
As you ignore the malice and bantering of the crowds
Sticking your head above up into the clouds
half-deaf to reality in the room.
You have a foot in a fairy tale,
And one in the abyss.
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 9:00 AM UTC
In my younger
and more vulnerable years
I
walked
on
I was lonely
no longer
I was a guide
a pathfinder
I had that familiar
conviction
that life
was beginning over
promising to unfold
that shining secret
that only
Midas
and Morgan
and Maecenas knew,
that the wingless
had been overlooked
in a fashion
that rather
took
your
breath
away.
I was fragilely bound into
a murmured apology
of moths
among
the whispers
and the champagne
and the stars
Bantering inconsequence
that was made of
infinitesimal
hesitation
I repeated blankly
a surprising
shill metallic urgency
Bloomed with light
it sort of crept in on us
that I
had truly
heard nothing at all
In the unquiet darkness
continually smoldering
with disappointment
in the solemn echoing
green light.
a dim hazy cast
lay upon my love
your love
belongs
to me
She insisted
its too late now
he scowled
I could only stare
as
she cried
A terrible
terrible
Mistake!
you ask too much
she told me
I love you now.
you cant repeat the past
he said
why,
of
course
you can!
I paid a
high price
for living too long
with a
single
dream.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
There's a Mexican saying,
(I'm Chinese American and yet i know this;
don't ask me how or why,
because if you knew how much
i talk about you, i think i'd die.)
There's a Mexican saying,
"It's a small step from hate to love."
I hated that you pulled me up
in front of a full room
and pointed out my ****
granted you weren't saying
anything about my ****
but more the fact that we were wearing
the same style of checkered shorts.
i hated that you didn't make sense
when you told our friends
about your grand scheme
to start a library with two books.
who starts a library with two books?!?
YOU CAN'T!
i hate that at dinner that night,
i actually enjoyed talking to you,
bantering and bickering
laughing and smiling.
and then "you two are like an old married couple".
i hate that you started calling me
when your granddad passed away
because you couldn't talk to anyone else.
and we'd talk for hours and hours
because we actually had that much to say.
i hate that you wanted to spend time with me.
i hate that you wanted to see me.
i hate that you wanted to help me.
i hate that you wanted to get to know me.
i hate it because i wasn't expecting it.
and the hardest thing is that we're just friends.
i don't know when it happened and i don't know how.
but i can't just be friends with you.
i don't want to be just friends with you.
because i took that small step…
from hate to love.
ok, so i don't love that you pointed out
to a room full of friends and other people
that my **** was in a pair of shorts
much like yours.
but i love that you noticed me.
i don't love that you think a library is two books.
but i love that you like what i like.
i don't love that people think
we're an old married couple.
but i love that i want to be
an old married couple with you.
i don't love that you used up
a lot of my cell phone minutes,
but i love that you didn't want to talk to anyone else.
i love that you want to spend time with me.
i love that you want to see me.
i love that you want to help me.
i love that you want to get to know me.
and i love that i'm in love with you.
i wish i could tell you.
i wish i could say it out loud.
I'm wishing my whispers at night
on the first star in the night sky
come true because i'm wishing for you.
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 4:40 PM UTC
My way will be found...
To these "warm waters"
and abundant agave among
a lingering, gentle devil
more potent than that austere burn.
It's the gaze you give me,
though gated by hissing apertures, screens, & skype,
that deters my sensibility. For this unconventionality is certanly fathomed.
Believe me
But it's the glittering glances, shot offscreen in blushful bantering
that
shocks my compass not due south
but to wherever you are.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 6:00 AM UTC
the bantering of rain
the insinuation it might snow
the mirage of moonglade
the mountain drink
the desert thirst
everything
resolves with flowers
a withered realm
a crestfallen kingdom
their copper queen withdrawing
from the bitter harvest
in the spirit of Persephone
everything
dissolves into flowers
Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 7:16 PM UTC
The light from a Nordic sun
Casts soft shadows around your haloed skull
Blessed with the voice of God
Speaking through every crack you have let come loose
Your laughter ricochets off of glass screen
Thor's thunder in mortal form
LED back lights highlighting your face in joyful relief
I am in awe
Across many landscapes our revelry roams
Making bold statements through electric edges
Slinging axe and sword for sport
Yet you gentle at a warm touch
Curling possessively around those you love
A protector unknown but always on watch
Your rough hands glide over plastic satin buttons
ahhh... such sweet music they make
Lulling me into a lassitude of comfort
Of good humor
Of lust
We are like children in our recess
Bantering from one side to the other with gauntlets thrown
Pick it up!
Gladly...then up the bar and throw it back down
Will it always be like this?
"I don't know"
I plan on sticking around to find out
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
beautiful blackbirds
ebony adorned from head to foot
camouflaged for stealth
in shadows and night time sky
sleek sateenic sheen
iridescence of well oiled machine
efficient avian predators
ruthless in their call
attacking nested eggs and fledglings
with never ending caw
boldly bantering by day
foraging in parks, parking lots, streets and alleys
searching for food with eerie, ethereal, slow motion hops
seemingly phasing, at will, out of sync with time
ancient spirit travelers to another plane
they watch the world with weary eyes
spying and recording the day’s events
atop skies, trees and telephone lines
then whispering into the ears
of gods and poets and cornfields
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 1:23 PM UTC
Birthdays are times for festivities, for being with family and friends. For me, it's a lonely time. Again, I'm spending it at the hospital. You tend to get this feeling that you are surrounded by so many people, colleagues, nurses, patients... yet you feel so alone... Still, the impromptu party we had more than made up for the loneliness. SOOO many food, the colorful wrappers and the gifts inside, the bantering and bickering, as well as funny stories and reminiscing... It's amazing how people cope, and end up feeling celebratory.
...Then a woman comes, just about to give birth, and in 30 seconds, party's over and we deliver a baby girl...
I stare at the baby I hold in my arms. It's a blessing to be given the honor, the opportunity to see new life unfold, to see the first gulp of air, hear the first ***** cry, have this moment when she looks in my eyes and I have this feeling that she can SEE me... For a second, it's just me and my baby, before the cooing from the parents, before the cord is clamped, and I give her to the pediatrician.
Thay say that we doctors save lives. Sometimes, the patients save ours...
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
Ok. So there are like about ten guys right. And they all are in love or falling in love with my sister. **Let me just tell you, if one of you ******** hurts her or harasses her I will find you and leave you broken. I don't even give two damns if your in another state or country. I will fly to your *** and knock you the **** out.** My sister is too good for ya'll. You'se need to lower the testosterone levels and find a girl where you live. My sister is sixteen and half you guys hitting on her are like in your mid-twenties. There is only one guy for her. Just one, and you know who you are. We message sometimes. **But for the rest of ya'll, ******* mess with my sister and I will personally send you into hell. God help me!**
Thank you for reading and listening to my bantering.
Questions and comments can be posted her or messaged to me. Have a nice night or day, wherever you live.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 9:29 PM UTC
*We fight delicately, sniping, taking and giving verbal punches.
Our skin doesn't bruise, maybe our egos our minds,
but our bodies no.
Our velvet arguing is seamless, flawless.
Anyone listening would hear witty repartee.
A couple playfully bantering, no more.
Polite meritorious armament of words.
Primed to fire a salvo of cruelty.
Cruelty, covered and handled with crushed velvet gloves.
Textured, cultured, arguing.
Polite parrying, pleasant resentment.
A bottle of wine, remnants of a meal, wounds needing to heal.
Less or more cruel than a punch? This seamless linguistic pain.
Bruises fade, pain subsides, mental cruelty resides.*
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
Scientists say that the average person,
Falls in love seven times before marriage,
But if this is true, I should officially declare myself
As a member of the spinsterhood because,
On average, I fall in love seven times a day.
Subway strangers
Witty waitresses
Bantering baristas
These temporary lovers,
Make me fall head over heels,
With just a glance,
An accidental brush,
A sly smile.
Maybe I’m not the marrying type –
After all, there are 7 billion 46 million people,
Bumping into each other on this planet,
And perhaps I don’t bump into “the one,”
Since I don’t believe in just “the one.”
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 6:25 PM UTC
Imagine
what the world would be like
if those fighting to ban two men wedding
were committed to ending global hunger.
What would it be like if
the time we spent bantering about what
firearms we can and can't own
was spent ending child abuse?
If the energy spent denying the truth
about our deteriorating planet
was used to fuel green technology,
wouldn't the world be different?
I guess we can only
Imagine.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
I don't care to see
The moral stances
From overly sensitive types
With their soft hands
And wisdom-less insight
I don't care to associate
With low impulse cut throats
Who only think of themselves
And shelve their selfish hope
With their greed
I don't do anything
That has me
Relying on a single thing
So i can flee
On the drop of a team
To my door
I'm always going to be
Solo
Leaning on the beam
Of a door
Listening
To whats in store for me
And I don't need to breathe
The ashes of fascists
To know they passed us
For the masses
To caste us
Into flames
As they walk away
And i don't want or need
Anything
Nor anybody
After grumbling it all through
As the truths
Will have me
Setting somebody free
In the violent liberties
Of my profanity
I'm nothing fancy
Just a little bit antsy
And an *******
Frantically feeding his dreams
From the ditches and drains
Of a technological stain
On the land
I pray every morning
With closed eyes
And clasped hands
Without a single god in the sky
But if i can convince
Myself of the lie
Just to get me by
I will be alright
And the guilt wont rewrite
Until tonight
Where i will write it out
Under a single light
From a dreary house
I'm all about
Letting the dogs out to play
And when I'm all out of thirst
I let out the slurs
Of a babbling idiot
Bantering with the fidget
Of ridiculousness
Under the fractal prisms
In which I'm imprisoned
Wishing
I would shut my mouth
Change the channel
Or just close you out
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Honey, I’d bandage your heart however you threw away the insight I was offering.
Pushed away my arms which were wide open letting you collide into my love.
You ran your mouth and said some hurtful things.
Making me feel useless, keeping me at my feet so you may rely on my love to uplift your soulful spirit.
I will stand in and in, listening to you bantering on and on about whatever went wrong.
Causing this pain that runs its fingers upon your happiness.
My dear I tell you open your pretty eyes wide to look around you to only see the rainbows left in the sky.
Don't stop paving your ways to a brand new day, keep on striding.
Remember there will be better days offering you the best of which life bountifully grants among you.
Apr 22, 2010
Apr 22, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
words to ether,
rhyme set on the winds.
what is needed now..
to break the rapid fires flow..
words come to nothing,
weary heart hears naught.
but the brachycardic
thump-thumping of
banal poetic bantering.
synapses, slipping, sideways,
into creative slumber.
ten and ten again,
ringing zen gongs, abide,
within,without,withall,
drowning the charismatic
chaotic, tidelike cleverness
of a thinking brain.
time is bought and sold,
in streetmarket stalls.
by spending precious pennies,
and bartering intelligence,
for slow, mudane,urban thoughts.
words to ether,
to mist, to fog,
blown to the ends,
of the earth.
to twist and turn,
and begin again,
as.... a sigh,
a whisper,
a stutter,
a keening in a soul,
a stroke upon a parchment,
a daub slashed on a canvas,
love etched into a heartstring,
a proclaimation allowed an utterance,
a life made a little more whole,
by kindness spent in letters.
written on a sigh of mercy
and sent forth, from the mouth of peace.
these are simply,
the motes of poetic grace
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
What is this?
What arrogance
to be dissatisfied with bliss
What am I?
That I find myself like a Danish price
contemplating molecular physics
If there could be but one thing through which I could reach
from the tips of my toes to the ends of my ariels
let it speak to me now or remain forever ephemeral
Tempt me not with silence nor sentient reflection
let me sit idle
while a host of doubts with carousing inflections
rend peace from the oath used to praise your perfection
the redoubt of certainty a false satisfaction
but I will seek it no less, lest my own moral code
on the floor lie here prone
Be still
Who are you to challenge me?
My own self?
HA! You are nothing
less than a vaporous belch,
repudiation of the shelf
from which this retched book of life was wrenched
No the end for you can come not too soon
unless it be for that which you are
A cankerous man ***** feeding on the life that was not given
but taken from others AND from yourself
I know not you
Unless I do
Unless I do
For all that was, is and was, was mirage
Smoke to the mirrors, dust in the sunshine
caught by the exhaled breath of nothingness
Cancer in the heart or lung make no difference to the boatman
BEGONE
Waste not my time with salutations
nor grave maunderings on that which could have been
nor with pleasantries and optimism
I have no use for these baubles of ego
BEGONE I SAID
What would you be without meat to shrine that temple of mind?
A magician?
A sorcerer?
Some glorified seamstress of witty offal
set to ram fill mouths of the bantering rabble
NO! I shall not cowtow to the nicetities of your excess, nor of mine
Our colours are grey NOT black and white
we shall drown beneath stone until resurrection day
and even then we shall rot in our graves for there IS NO GOAD
not to man, beast or rock NO GOAD that science shall not uncover, no lack
that in wondrous doubt we shall **** to deny the self-evident fact
that we are nothing and everything combined in one shell
decomposing rapidly, a death knell for the self
is the salutary cry for the immobile stone laid on my brow
for the rustling tree
for the wild fox and the mutated accessories to our loneliness
they shall be freed and they shall feast upon our corpses
and not a day too soon
and not a day too soon
so sayeth the bard from his everlasting gloom.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 3:16 AM UTC
Today the Sunday special brief
iCloud online worship session, I did attend
(via remote support)
found me feeling pampered,
when adept technical support
didst figuratively bend
over backwards, thus aye defend
glorious, righteous,
and zealous Gurus who did expend
their religious fervor, without proselytizing
and sanctified dedication they proffered
as if this secular chap hapt tubby
a long time Facebook friend
diligently persevered amidst
my woeful yelping alarm
where bot sized wetbacks, setbacks,
and drawbacks,
required a secret char
which this netizen vaguely understood
as unfair be-tidings disallowing
thyself to purchase additional farm
ming out iCloud storage
in the deleterious harm
akin to buggy ah mush swarm
comprised documents
(painstakingly slaved over with zest)
plus sundry data necessitating mooch ***
legal tender (probably every
last red cent of mine) to in vest
concerted efforts of
at least one expert to test
her/his mettle in an attempt
(dim prospect) performing an in quest
to retrieve valuable data lost amidst a nest
of inaccessible "lost" information
(bantering with computer
jargon more so jest
with no intention to "FAKE"
trumpeting minimal knowledge
judiciously impressed
upon thine fifty plus
shades of gray matter, at my be hest
expressing scant cumulative
disc cussing duff frag
minted understanding lest,
a personal goal
to incapsulate in poetic best
not abandoning frustration
with this Macbook Pro
cuz, positive experience
wrought with Apostles eye attest,
so rather then vent
my spleen in vein
hie desisted
to rage against the machine,
and tack toward being urbane
thus, rejoicing with a cherry,
hearty, and mighty byte hooray,
asper driving,
exercising, and foisting
gentle circuitry vis a vis
neurotransmitters and neuromodulators
nudging pull-ups
within cerebral terrain.
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 7:17 PM UTC
Bantering, something about organs
Panting the leaves does the breeze
At ease , soldier
**** for your country and well pay you
5000 dollars for every head you collect, join us you ******* reject
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 11:27 AM UTC
Sitting on the dining table
resting my head on my cold hands
listening to the bantering voices and the soap opera on the screen
how ironic it seems
to look at something ordinary being glamorized
by lights , costumes, scripts and actors
the reflection of the scene
taking over my vision of what is in front of me
is this really reality?
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
THE DEVIL IN MY LIFE
Dark cloud who casts a shadow on my soul
You make days overcast and gray
You flatten my senses until I feel nothing
You follow me like a faithful dog and never want to leave me
But now I see your leash is but a chain
Dragging me through life like a ****** prisoner
Reminding me I'm old when I'm not
Telling me my life is dull but it's not
Suggesting my accomplishments are few when they're not
Making me wonder if I'm depressed when I'm not
Keeping me from smiling and laughing
From deep gratitude
Hiding from me that I can have it all
Well, my faithful devil, I am done with you
I am angry and will no longer honor this marriage
Which you contrived – I never agreed to it
This is a divorce and it is final
When I feel you breathing down my neck
I will exhale with all my might and blast you out
You can descend into hell where you belong
And I will smile and I will feel my soul
And yes, I will connect with it
I will not, I refuse to let that connection with self die
I will not heed your persistent murmur
That nothing and void and emptiness is all we've got
I have connected with self and it is good
There is magic – I have tasted it
Stop it with your constant bantering that none of it is real
I am going to surrender to the magic
And I will not let you stop me
I'm done with you
And if you haunt me, I will raise my arms
And I will close my eyes and see beauty
I will peer into a flower and lose myself
I will remember all the gifts I have received
I will look at my husband with love
And I will give thanks. No thanks to you.
I'm tired of the devil in my life
I'm ready to give the angels a try
Julia Burnier
January 30, 2016
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 10:57 PM UTC
I’ve known many people
well and with love,
It's difficult to suggest what I’m thinking of;
I knew them time over time
again, we’d laugh to stay sane
smiling politely to strangers
who’s faces were all the same.
I’ve known many people
well and with love,
They couldn’t always know what it was I thought of;
We’d serve drinks, food, fold clothes
only reveal what we chose
when calculating in corners
or bantering loudly over bar.
I’ve known many people
well and with love,
I know what I’m saying isn’t unheard of;
Public and repetitive and social
I'd say, is the bond that we'd share
before we all moved away,
Where we’d discover a new few who'd undoubtedly say,
I’ve known many people
well and with love,
You yourself are one of the friends I speak of.
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 7:04 PM UTC
Badinage and Persiflage
Make such a merry pair,
Chatting and bantering all day.
No spiteful gossip there.
Each goes without acquaintances.
Each has one single friend.
As solitary sprites, they speak
Of words, without an end.
Jul 1, 2021
Jul 1, 2021 at 10:47 PM UTC