"bart" poems
Listen to the silence
It's louder than before
A Lion now has left us
We no longer hear his roar
A poet of the people
His voice a summer storm
The lion now is silenced
Now silence is the norm
Read the words he's written
Listen to the voice
The lion has entrapped you
You do not have a choice
We were in his story
He touched us to our core
Now, the lion...he is silenced
And Bart Wolffe will roar no more
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 11:32 PM UTC
Lymphoma
There was a fundraising run for lymphoma and other cancers
A little notice for it on top of the garbage can
at a home grown Jamba Juice right off the BART in Berkeley
It hit home: what I was up against
People don't run through the streets casually
and my cat had lymphoma
I couldn't find him last night for the first time
He had his weekly appointment and I brought in
something that didn't look at all like he was the week before
They paged the vet and she came in
saying thing like he needed an IV and tests and
wasn't there nothing else to do
didn't she say that
he needs hospitalization--his liver
we can't tell you what to do
but it would all go in a circle and come back
to a suffering being who had
come to the end of what science could do for him
what she was trying to tell me in her barrage of words
came through loud and clear
They brought him in
with a blanket and a catheter
and he struggled until he got warm and then rested
I wanted him to see me, as the last thing he saw in this world
She took the three syringes out of her white coat
Don't hurt him, just don't hurt him
my only request
There was no pain
Only relaxation, sleep and then at last no heartbeat
Her ability, her smoothness of execution was perfect
and he went limp in my arms
not suffering
The nurse took his body away
"It's the last gift we can give them" she said
and I imagined a man, a stereotypical
image of a man pacing back and forth in a white coat in front
of a lecture hall full of vet students saying that
exact thing and there was a serious air in the classroom and some wrote this down,
it was so true, sound, capable and final
but this woman said it
this veterinarian from Michigan
and through my tears and grief
there was some kind of undercurrent
of relief, that there is no more pain for him
He no longer suffers
and I did all I could do
Jul 27, 2012
Jul 27, 2012 at 8:39 PM UTC
Yes I jumped in those leaves
crunchy, fluffy, autumn leaves
Waded in the decorative fountain
Climbed on the public art
Yes I danced swing in the BART station
Hid in the grocery store among rolls of
toilet paper
Had to *** a ride after the Dicken's faire
Played in the rain
Hugged my mother
Made my dad take me to see Tangled in 3D
Yes I measured the baking soda for those
dinosaur chocolate chip cookies
Loved Steve Irwin will all my childhood admiration
Was afraid of the Deep End
Memorized Shel Silverstein
Remember my sister reading me Harry Potter
Gripping my best friend on Tower of Terror, Indiana Jones, Space Mountain
Sang Christmas Carols in October
And I'm not even sorry
I was a pirate paleontologist pop-star
pokemon master steampunk rocker renaissance girl who
time-traveled, hunting T-rex
adventuring with Christopher Robin, Calvin and Hobbes
Made two corsages for my junior prom, fed ducks,
ate at Mels, posed in the dollar store, watched
the Avengers in our glittering dresses for the second
Laughed so hard I cried about the stupidest things
I doubted, got lost in Costco, found my faith
Had my prayers answered
For the bestest, most faithful friends
I have the "simple human relief of knowing you’ve done wrong, and living through it"
And don't take this the wrong way
It's not like I'm going to jump off a bridge
Well, maybe with a bungee cord?
But if I died right now
**** Gone.
I wouldn't say I envied anybody
Not really
We've had a pretty **** great time
haven't we?
Oh sure I'd protest
Places to go, people to see, things to eat, but...
As long as You forgive me
my faults
Whose to say,
There is anything else I HAVE to do
Before I have lived a GREAT life
I have nothing to prove
besides that I am grateful
for this breath of life
which may pass at any moment
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
Never had a single
Sang to empty clubs and bars
It seemed our music came from Venus
While the crowd was all from Mars
We've been doing, well...a comeback
Though we never went away
We've been here, though no one knew it
You know this band is here to stay
No one knows our music
Now we have a different crowd
They don't care what we play them
As long as it is loud
No faces look familiar
Although the bars all look the same
I guess we should be thankful
If at the end they know our name
We knock off songs they've never heard
We play them just for us
They ask for stuff we do no know
And they rarely make a fuss
It's not the same as it once was
And neither then are we
We're doing well, a comeback tour
Though we've been here since sixty three
Some kids think we're the shadows
Hermans Hermits, or the Pips
We don't care that much though
If it gets us bigger tips
We missed out on a contract
When glam rock knocked us aside
We wouldn't wear the makeup
I would rather go and hide
We still play clubs and empty bars
Done it now for 50 years
We make a bit more money
We don't waste it all on beers
We've never gone away though
Even though folks always say
We're glad you're back together
We never ever went away
We're a band that loves it's music
Never made it big
We're out doing a comeback
Me, Ronnie, Bart and Stig
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
You didn't bring your tie,
so you're gonna die.
And so it has begun,
the times of no fun.
Pride and Joy, we feign,
hearing speeches, in disdain.
Oh such is the pain,
of Mr Bart's reign!
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 12:17 PM UTC
Before we met
How many times did we pass by
Each other on the street?
How many times did we
Stop at the same stop light
Or wave the other on in traffic?
How many times had we
Ordered coffee from the same barista
Within minutes of the other?
How often did we ride
The same BART train
Or think the same thing
About a person we walked past
On our way to work?
How many friends did we share
If any at all?
Before we met
Did you ever notice me hailing a cab
Or search my bag for loose change?
Did I ever give you a ***** look
When you laughed grotesquely
With your friends
As my own guild slinked by?
Before we met
Had you ever considered
Renting an apartment in my building?
Did you ever pet my cat on the street
Or lazily glace through my
Living room window as you
Waited for the light to turn green?
Did I ever see you
At the delicatessen
Where I eat my lunch?
Before we met
Had we ever met before?
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 11:07 PM UTC
There was this guy Bart that I met in Prague,
Told me his girlfriend lived down in a bog.
“She’s big and she’s green, with long yellow fangs,
And seaweed hangs off of her head like green bangs.
The first time I met her she bit off my hand, and spit it out next to me into the sand.
The next time I met her, this guy Bart he said,
“If she bites you again, I’ll cut off her head.”
Well this time she bit off my leg, and she even ate Bart,
That’s when I decided that I had to start,
Thinking of ways to get rid of this creature,
So I hobbled to town to talk to the preacher.
“It’s love that it need!” he beamed at me,
“Just show it some love, and then you’ll see.”
So to the bog I went with love to share,
Bart’s girlfriend came out, and greeted me with a stare.
I shouted at her, “I came to share love!”
And offered her the preacher’s precious white dove.
Well she snatched up the dove, broke it in two,
Threw it aside and said “Now onto you!”
I turned to run as fast as I could,
But was bitten in half like an old piece of wood.
My final thought before I had died,
Was that love had solved nothing, the preacher had lied.
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 6:13 PM UTC
.
Zodiac
Killer Tsuomy
Miyazaki T e d
Bundy Saeed Ha
nuel Robert Pic
ton Robert Mau
dsley Robert Ha
nsen Moses Sith
ole Mary A n n
Cotton J e f f rey
Dahmer Huang
Yong G regorio
Cardenas Herna
Dez Gary Leon Ridgway Eliza
Beth Bart hory Dean Arnold Corli
Pedro Lopez Mary Bell Louis
V a. n S c h o o r
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
Alright all you pigeon chests
Came the sound of thunder from the open door
As Big Bad Bart replaced the space
Giant mountain man of lore
Making his way into the bar
Sweeping Nancy boys out of his way
Stepping up to the the jukebox
Kicking it till some good ole country boy music played
This mountain man has made it his goal
To grab hold and unsissify
Any Wimpy Wally's
That happen to catch his manly eye
He started off his conquest
Out in the great North wood
First stop The Red Eye Back Door Saloon
Need I explain the name to you
He went in with his moral barrels a blazing
But there wasn't much he could do
Village people the only band on the jukebox
Y.M.C.A. being the only tune
He didn't let that little nitch stop him
Or slow him down by any means
Giving America back to the menly men
And not the mousey men with their girly dreams
Till the day that Bart locked eyes with Stanly
In that San Francisco flower bar
Those two haven't left each others side
Going through life now arm and arm
They spend their time skipping through fields of pansies
Giggling freely hand in hand
The way Bart now feels this was meant to be
Mia Mono, Man to Man
Bart's lumberjack buddies can't believe it
And don't know what to think of their friend
Although they all secretly admit
He does look good in those Hot Pink Hot Pants
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 7:21 AM UTC
Darling sister,
with your hair the purest shade of carrot
falling to the middle of your back,
and eyes the clearest blue,
and freckles splattered across your nose and cheeks
like the angels couldn’t stop blessing you once they started.
You look far too much like a ghost of my past.
Your sparkling curiosity,
your tendency to stay up far too late
because you just can’t put your book down,
not yet, because it’s just getting good
and you want to know what’s next.
The innocence of your smile
and the heartiness of your laugh.
You look far too much like a ghost of my past.
Forgive me, but you are scarier
than any monster in the shows I watch.
Because when I think about how you crave my approval,
how you cling to my company
like it’s the last time you’ll ever see me again,
and how you say, “Will I be like you when I grow up?
We’re just like twins! We’re sisters forever!”
It feels me with liquid fear,
like silver nitrate is being pumped through my veins.
You haven’t seen the darker side of me.
Not all of it, not the breaking down of my very psyche
as the world prepares to squeeze the live out of me
the way we squeeze Jell-O through our teeth
because we think it’s fun.
No, you don’t see the times where I don’t want to face the world.
Instead you see this quirky older sister that you probably always wanted,
I know I did.
I want to be that older sister, the one that you look up to,
the one that takes you places and teaches you things and
helps you understand how to survive in this world.
But I’m scared that I can’t.
I’m scared that one day I’m going to fall,
like Sherlock off of St. Bart’s.
But unlike Sherlock,
I don’t think I’ll be getting back up again.
I don’t want you to see me fall.
I want to be The Boy Who Lived for you,
and **** it if I’m not going to try.
Sure, I’m terrified of all this role model stuff,
it’s not easy, not by a long shot.
But you need me and I’m going to do the best I can.
Love,
Your Big Sister 4Ever
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 10:53 PM UTC
i went to see the christmas lights yeah i did it wss fun
you see we were traveling around using our good eyes
we saw a few and i took a few photos after i had bolognaise and a beautiful cake
and i talked about the great poetry slanm a place to go to read poems
ya see, mate i thought the lights were fantastic, dude
we were sitting in the car getting photos of each’
we yelled out merry christmas to all the owners, cool man eat my shorts
it was radically awesome how each house had a lot of things in their display
i was talking about the movie deck the halls with danny devito and mathew broderick
both go for the right to be the streets christmas man
i am a bit of a christmas man, i love the idea of santa coming for the kids
dropping in through the computer, delivering presents as he he goes
i played santa at vinnies in belconnen and i enjoyed making the kids very happy
one kid said why do you want to play santa, i think playing santa gives me fulfilment
and we sing we wish you a merry christmas a full boar ripper christmas
we wish you a merry christmas
i have a big dose of schizophrenia, which makes me look tired
but, dude, it doesn’t really bother me, because i am healing, ya know getting better
and as i sit down anywhere, in cars and at hone, my mind has a tired look
sometimes it’s good to fight it, with the fact that you ain’t really tired
it’s just the high dose medication i am on
and as i travelled around the christmas lights
i was saying i wanna do more and i wanna see more, without looking at the time
because it was getting close to 10,00 and the others were tired
but me, i was happy to sit in the back looking at the lights till midnight
in the future i would love someone to take me out to civic on new years eve, that’ll be cool, man
and i think of bart simpson when i say, do the bartmab do the bartman
everyone back and forward from side to side
ya see, the medication makes me calm, making me think of how i was back in the 1970s
when i was mucking with my family in wood berry, and being told to shove my nose to the wood
but i loved stopping for an ice cream at hexham oak factory
and looking at the lights tonight, reminded me of when we walked down georgetown at their lights
ya see i was thinking, tonight, in the back seat, i am a happy dude, and the lights are making me a party dude
i wanna party all night long
it was a great christmas party, duds
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 6:52 AM UTC
This red rooster is a bundle of fun bundle of fun yes it is cool and fun
This red rooster is a bundle of fun
I love life and this red rooster is having peas and gravy too
Cool man eat my shorts like bart
Would say and the red rooster said to me have a cup of coffee
Drinking it right now that sounds great, and then we eat a chicken pie and we think about this red rooster is a bundle of fun don’t forget the Sydney roosters are done
Never gonna win never gonna win I hope the red rooster has a bundle of fun with me and you
And if we think about it the rooster is cool and it is not the Sydney roosters they are not
And the red rooster wants and deserves to have fun
Every single day and night
You see the devil is going to say just one word give me some red rooster and a dollar coin
Yes that sounds great mate
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 6:36 AM UTC
the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly
I am a bus rider
That makes me unusual
For a white male
From an upper middle-class family
Our people are not bus riders
Though some are subway riders
Bus riders are other people
The poor, minorities, immigrants
People who don’t drive
Because they are blind
Or have a DUI
And in my case
I don’t drive
Because I have bad vision
And bad coordination
Just never got the hang
Of the whole driving thing
Fortunately for me
My wife does the driving
But I still take the bus
From time to time
I rode the AC buses in Berkeley
As a child
Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus
Rode them long before BART came along
And afterwards as well
As an adult seldom rode the bus
But when I did so
I was always impressed
By the sheer diversity
Of the bus riding population
Hundreds of languages
All sorts of ****** orientation
Some were white
Most were not
Most of my fellow passengers
Were nice enough
Some were friendly
And some were lost
In their own thoughts
And a few
Were scary looking dudes
With the look
Of someone who had done time
And were capable of more violence
I also rode the bus
In Seattle as a graduate student
A lot of fellow UW students
And the usual immigrants
Minorities etc
And some white people
Commuting
And in DC
Over the years
I rode a lot of buses
Mostly to and from the metro
But I got to know
And love the DC buses as well
I also took the greyhound bus
Across the country
Several times over the years
All over the U.S.
From Bay Area to Stockton
From Bay Area to Clear Lake
From Bay area to NYC
NYC to DC
All over the USA
Taking the Greyhound
Was always an adventure
Met a lot of interesting people
As people on long distant bus rides
Tend to open up and talk
To pass the time away
Overseas I took the bus
All over
In India, in Barbados
In Spain and in Korea
The Korean buses
For many years
Were difficult for foreign visitors
As the signs were all in Korean
Most have signs
Now in English, Chinese and Korean
And are much more foreigner friendly
Riding the bus
In America
Allows one access
To the underbelly of American society
The poor, the marginalized
The immigrant communities
That many middle class white people
Just never see
And for that reason
I am glad
That I am a bus rider
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 1:37 AM UTC
*Riding backwards on a train
Leaning my head into the window
Seeing my own reflection – Clackity
Clack – Clickity Clackity Clickety Clack,
Don’t talk back, Clackity Clack.
What I see in the passing frames
Bridges, houses, brown fields
And rough terrains.
Clackity Clack, Clickity Clack
Don’t talk back, Clackity Clickety Clack.
There goes an old barn beside an Azores tree
There goes an Azores tree beside an old barn
My God there goes another one – that’s three
Clackity Clack, Clackity Clack, Clickity, Clickity
Don’t talk back, Clickity Clack.
Telephone poles all passing as one
Streets and warehouses, street signs
And red lights – green and now a nun
Clackity Clack, Clackity Clack
Don’t talk back, Clackity Clickity Clack.
Into the tunnel we clamber and scramble
Concrete walls all painted with daises
So close to the glass we go into this gamble.
Clackity Clack, Clickity Clack, Clackety Clickety
Are we coming back, Clackity Clack.
Deep under the bay we travel
As loud and deep as the devil.
All held back by nothing but gravel.
Clackity Clack, Clickity Clack
Please don’t crack, Clackity Clack
When all at once into the terminal we fly
We made it – me – myself and I
Slowing to almost a crawl - good-bye!
Clackity, Clackity, Clackity Clack
Next time I’ll check my Zodiac.*
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 11:55 AM UTC
I'm not brave, never was and never will be
any scars I have are hidden in deep dungeons
somewhere in the vast open spaces of my mind
They are too deep to dig out and analyse. Even try.
There are no medals blistering my breast pocket
No name shouted from pulpit or podium
No one cheering academic prowess
scars of poverty or pain or orphan splendour
at tender twelve Christmases
all those scars buried under the skin, and swept out of sight
on the watching life. There were many watchers.
Not brave pushing boundaries
I learnt my visual language off
graffitied walls and bart simpson.
No I was not brave, when I arrived here
with a shirt on my back and a two dollar back pocket
bus ticket. Come on you got to be joking,
for switching countries, continents and communities
to earn a square meal.
See what I mean? I'm not brave, riding morning evening traffic
with ten thousand automissiles coming at me daily
I'm not brave when I scoff a whole chocolate
cake without counting the calories or checking that waistline
or watching Dr Oz rave on about nuts fruits ***** and berries.
Its on the rare occasion I get brave and take notes!
No Im not brave at all. I'm a coward that hides behind brave people
who have 9-5 jobs, wear white skins to work, white collars
and smile behind white sparkling teeth with red ties
dripping in bloody racist jibes of inequality.
No I'm not brave being 65 and hiding 65 thousand racist comments
under scars covered by moisturisers
white shirts and dark glasses
in the searing heat of society.
I am brave when it comes to using
words that hide behind lace-like feathery
curtains of verses and rhythms
that sing along to everything I write.
Author Notes
A critical look at society and how it functions between the layers of immigrants. Look under the skin to understand why we write poems, like we do. The harsher the social climate the more rugged are the desert rats it produces. History is full of such examples. This hierarchy will never change.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
They are spearheads
The trees, stewsters in the Grey
On Somber window.
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 10:19 AM UTC
1, young friends, this is not enough. Of course, if the body's soap accuracy
is the whey's stain on Jones, it's another form of salt in the acid. And what color does God's wisdom know? "This developer wants to marry a poor girl, but if you get married with beautiful young adolescent microbes, electrons, acids, cocktails, corn, amino acids & amino acids, big fish does not have the true religion. Home improvement, etc., shows that wisdom is not poverty,
1 my friend is going to go. Amino acids and amino acids are packed with the next grandmother of corn and grain, the tablet - the entire system."Soldiers and more polluted with acidic amino acids; amino acids, amino acids and color, more people are in fish, fish are spread out, more likely to be true religion. "It is a pity because it was weak if the young man sees young amino acids, amino acids in amino acids and amino acids, if small fish are too small for true service, BART or board, 1 patient if the child is married to his poor friend For the sake of his life, the true religion lives because it is all good, because it is not a fish from the war, and amino acids, however, are the most beautiful places. The acidity of amino acids and amino acids, the restoration of God's worship all the days not just on earth, color wedded 1 young enough and loyal friend. Jones and the Egyptian and everything connected with the oxygen supply to the body that will create a great deal of e-mail if the salt of amino acids and what color God's wisdom is. "This developer wants to marry a poor girl, but if you get your teenager married to a beautiful younger micro-climber, electronic acids, acids, cocktails, corn, amino acids, and amino acids
are not so good, so true religion. Better home in "Benin"
and so on showed wisdom," and the poor does not exist.
"1, my friend is going to go with the next grandmother
of the corn and garnet packed with amino acids and amino
acids, the tablet and, therefore, the entire system and wisdom."
soldiers and more infected crab amino acids, acidic amino
acids, amino acids and color, more popular fish, fish spread,
the more likely it is a true religion. "The girl wanted to get married,
poor and weak ... If the baby is enough to look for a fresh potion
of amino acids, amino acids turn into amino acids, amino acids,
if small fish are very true to the religion, BART or board members - 1 patient, but if the child is married, it is a true voice of religion
with a poor friend. They cannot live in disco's idiom with Ringer Acids,
gaseous Hasidim fish acids, amino acids and the ground of marriage,
but not just behind the wisdom of the poor.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC
Story Teller IV (Billy and Bart )
he walks in the saloon spurs jingling loud
faces turn frightened everyone in the crowd
except for Bart he keeps his cold stare
bodies are dashing but he stays right there
he knows it's Billy without turning his head
no place to hide now time to face him instead
the fear and loathe has made his nostrils flare
his hand to his side now waiting for the dare
Billy was simply the one that no one could face
bushy eyebrows and unruly hair every place
when he spoke you took at least one step back
waiting anxiously for the fierce attack
he spoke in riddles and never made sense
his mouth sputtered spray his eyes so intense
if you were lucky you could give him the shake
point over there I think there is some cake
when he turned with desire for tastes so sweet
you quickly turned and quietly shuffled your feet
head for the exit from his attempted control
drool running down his chin this disgusting soul
Billy was this proverbial pain in everyone's side
but Bart had this way of coolness down deep inside
he would reach out his hand in gesture so kind
that Billy would just smile a smile that shined
Billy wasn't really the beast that everyone thought
he just wanted a friend it was kindness he sought
take away from these words a higher ground
look inside your heart to see what you found
Gomer LePoet....
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 9:02 AM UTC
W (west), gas, construction, culture, and 500 white and 500 years, is a new threat to India the United States, PP & Coca-Cola = the United States. Canada and the United States, China, North and South America. United States of America, Canada, Australia, Italy, Germany, Italy and Southern Germany Eric's Canada, Australia and Northern Patrick Atlas "American Holmes Black Across" Integrated Network 100, Germany, South Africa, National Defense Patrizio "Cultural Test, 100-100, Brazil, Canada, insects and "cost" 100 in Belgium, e-mail, cutting, drawing, Italy, and Coca-Cola Wall - China, Canada, Germany, Australia, Canada, Brazil, 100,100 people per person. "Toner subject of South Africa, Sierra Leone, Brazil, Canada, Hermitage, Norway, Patrick John, Paris, Italy, Asia, Chinese agency instead of 100, the first ethnic drunk area in the last decade, less than News Network covering less than 100, 100 Bart Joint 40 minute flight combined 500, India, United States, Crack Eatamin B, USA, salt, Canada, Italy, Australia and United States. Erika's vacation to the United States, health, wheat, corn, Germany, Italy, Canada NRA in Brazil, argued in Canada and other countries;
Men and women have lived in the United Kingdom, the United States, Germany, Belgium, China, India and Tom Thompson (YS-USA) for many years. Water, Primary Education, Germany, Italy and the United States, Canada, Austria, Italy
But in India, the United States, Coca-Cola, the United States, Canada and the United States it's 500 years ago, India News, Meat, honey, Ionian Council (former), White Gas, Cultural and Depressed Pains, China, North America, South and North America, Coca-Cola Nation, United States, Canada, Canada, Australia, Italy, Germany, Italy and the German nations of South America; Canada, Austria Taken, and North America Ails Patrick. "American Home Black Phil" network, Germany, South Africa, Patrick Public Safety "Test culture, 100-100, 100, Brazil, Canada, Germany and "costume" Paris, Belgium, e-mail, cutting, painting, Coca-Italia. China, Ethiopia, United Flight 500 to 100 years Bartzynsk 40 hours, India, United States, Crankamin B, United States, salt, Canada, Italy, France, Australia and the United States. Rica United has thousands of men, corn and corn,
Men and women have lived in the United Kingdom, the United States, Germany, Belgium, China, India and Tom Thompson (YS-USA) for many years. Canada, Canada, Australia, Italy, Germany, Italy and Germany, Italy and Coca-Cola, United States, Canada and the United States, China, North and South America, Canada, Australia and North America, Eric "Network American Home BlackAP 100 Germany, South Africa, National Security Council Patrick" Patrick Atlas' Cultural Test, 100-100, Brazil, Canada, Germany, Nia and "Dress", Belgium 100, e-mail, Cutting, painting, music
in America grew up on Barney, Red, Green, last week, Germany, Italy
and South America, Canada, United States, Canada, Italy, Germany, Italy, Canada, Germany, Italy and France. China, Africa and the United States, Great Britain, Germany and Great Britain, Canada, Brazil.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 11:22 PM UTC
Since I was a girl
I imagine great feats
of daring and cleverness to save
the village, city or world
The City inspires me
Streets of San Francisco sun
Bart rides blurring as I listen
to Swedish techno and imagine
the trailer to my film
Running to, running away
Catching in the act, driving
Getting hurt, getting up
Of course there's computer hacking
which I do with finesse
Something explodes
It's not me
I'm the first to realize what is really going on
and the first to enter the belly of the beast
everything depends on me as I move
quickly and my dialogue is clever
at the most dangerous moments
We end up
In a deserted warehouse with one gun
each and I outwit you and save the day
alone as everyone else shows up
I am an action hero
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 8:14 PM UTC
here is another one
mostly for fun
like a little cap gun, son
I
Hop on one foot
Like a muthafukkin bunny
I’m lucky, its sunny
But allergies got my nose all runny
The drum beat
Keeps my feet sweet
Light and neat
Homemade Halloween treat
Back to the street
See I’m rollin
In nothing stolen
Knee swollen
**** takes it’s toll , man
But I still jam
Like I am on a muthafukkin roll
I stroll
Into any place of business
Like I witnessed
Jehovah’s ******
Simply put, I’m the best
****** rapper in the
Pacific northwest
But that’s just a guess
I don’t get out a bunch –
Well I
Seem to play this game
Where I try to pick the brains
Of these criminally insane
Muthafukkas on my job plane
Don’t drink Champaign
But if I do its out a mason jar
Check out my appendix scar
I lied, still got mine
It’s like a shinning star
Brown dwarf, cant see it from afar
But it will destroy the par
Leave golfers in their little cart
At the speedie mart
Riding on the BART
Did you just ****
I get silly still
Its these badass pills
Cause all kinds of thrills
Homeboy, can we just chill? –
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 11:44 AM UTC
Shady streets of Shattuck
and Telegraph, home to ever-present
drifters and hep, and ever-present woe
won't you sing beneath the stars and traffic lights?
for whether or not dawn is breeching, the moon
like a jealous sibling in cosmic conflict.
We need another glass
I fill mine with the good stuff
with a splash and to ignite a crutch
so that we might have pillows like
clouds of smoke to rest our restless, gaping,
restless, wicked, pinned pupils, we make
our own boundaries, our own expectations, which,
in and of themselves are beautiful articulations of
day by day. This moment we wave goodbye.
Spitting out ill-gotten thoughts, unfiltered
with hope and prayer that in the morning
we will be back at the old familiar station
dripping with contentment and familiar
that home is right under our feet. The Bart,
more like a vessel than I have ever known
who makes voyages feel like calmly strolls
through parks which lead us to San Leandro
to Oakland, to Daly City, to Ashby and Fremont
tasting and smelling home when we reach old San Jose
upon another transit that sways all the way
to Santa Cruz to home and relief, and the load lessens
to a stop, although I truly feel we've started over
to begin, although the bright, bright lights blink
off and on for me as we stray homeward, as if to say
"We will see."
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 9:51 AM UTC
I got the flu in mid January and it's nearly Spring and still I cough
but I decided to force myself to go out
and get on Bart and go to Berkeley
and I saw things
stared at an ad for "American Idol" on the platform
for an unseemly amount of time trying to figure out which
human representation had been more photo-shopped
Fascinated, coming out into another land other than work home bed
Standing on the Bart platform, with no evil smells like the New York City subway and a breeze
and a polite voice telling me when the train would come
And at the next station an ad for the Jewish Museum and a young Ethiopian Jewish man
has an exhibit there and I felt good, that yes, there is such awfulness in Israel
but even there, like here, some can rise
And then Berkeley and my favorite cafe,
and it so reminds me of Columbia University, only cleaner
but it doesn't hurt about my X anymore
but it reminded me of my cat who was dieing in July and
he didn't want me near him too much because
dieing things like small spaces and not too much attention
so I left him in the closet curled up as cancer worked it's inevitable devastation
And I was coughing and tired, an invalid at the end of the day
but I made it to the Shattuck Cinemas to watch "Lincoln" and they have
a bar, and couches in the theater and you can take drink in if you're over 21
and that was our idea, in my days as a theater manager, we'd
talk about ways to bring more people in and we suggested couches and alcohol
and our manager laughed and thought we were crazy
but here is crazy and people walk in and love it
I sat in the back and took up a whole two seat couch selfishly and
listened to people come in and say how nice it was
Today I was an invalid again and could hardly get up
but the memory, it was worth it
I am slightly more alive again
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
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Said Cornelius, that is, the paradise of? Thank West. 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, Cornelius King and I do not like English and Russian. Finnish my husband and 1 have a brand. Brother, John Cornelius, English today in Western Europe. Close violence as another sign of the Finnish women's car. William is a civil servant and Western Europe. But 500 Demons enjoy gay love and love Saddam Hussein? Men and women are working in Europe. Australian new authors, publishers and journalists and writers gathered. Once the West. Thus there is a need Cornellio. Despite the two gates, and my judgments, but the brand has a Finnish Cornellio. Huntersville What is paradise? Thanks to my brother Points law law and not quite a year at work but a wonderful biography English Esukan schools. More, English and Latin Tournament Huntersville compared to boys. "Western Europe, my husband is in the church for six years, despite the good of the Finnish brand goals well, my brother during a fight. St. Cornelius English brothers, today in Western Europe. Women enjoy violence. Finland is another sign of a car. Cameroon. Bart was a civil servant and sent to Western Europe. the devil and the girl enjoy it. Gay, William Robert Saddam Hussein's love and love? Men and women are working in Europe. Writers hidden in Australia, publishers are collecting writers and journalists. one day from the West. Women enjoy this is not necessary. Cornellio has two doors. Despite the Finnish brand, my wi-fi What is Cornelius Paradise? Thanks to my brother, 1 need the Lex Cornelia law and year rather it is not working for the biography was a wonderful collection of Eskimo English schools. English and Latin than English compared to no Huntersville, "manna." Western Europe my husband at the church six years, despite the Finland brand, a good goal, my brother's contribute 2. No one is reacting to ion sources; bution butions Esukaneo-Konerio The monastery seems to be used for brides from Eastern Europe's Children's emperors and good stuff. 1 have six parts | demons and Galatians' letters.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 11:58 PM UTC
When I was a little kid
I compared my self to Bart
Simpsons as well as Albert Einstein
What a fine thing to say
But this was the driving force of
My actions
And reactions
To things that went on with this world
A gifted but misunderstood human
I have become
Now I find out
What I had was not a curse
But the gift
Mar 6, 2025
Mar 6, 2025 at 8:44 PM UTC