"bentley" poems
K-popper Psy
Buzzing like a pesky fly
To out do his "Gangnam Style" hit
But you can't polish cat ****
*Clerihew
A Clerihew is a comic verse consisting of two couplets and a specific rhyming scheme, aabb invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956) at the age of 16. The poem is about/deals with a person/character within the first rhyme. In most cases, the first line names a person, and the second line ends with something that rhymes with the name of the person.*
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
His words stitched like rail road ties
through sentiment and simile.
His fingers like slaves to emotions in his brain.
The hum of his instrument,
so rich and so right.
Constructing soundtracks to stories
about what it means to be alive.
Tapping beats from the back of his thigh,
bop-bop, doo-woop.
Turning feeling into vibrations
that shake the walls of the bus station.
What change he got shaking like a tambourine
inside his cardigan pocket.
The gold trim on his six string
shines like a locket under bright orange lights.
I called him the Musician.
his mother called him Bentley.
his father never called,
the streets called him crazy.
His audience passing cars.
Cigarette butts and trashed plastics.
The Musician waxed and waned
as the world kept on passing.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
I must admit that I am bored.
Utterly bored, actually, with the overly romanticized construct of dominance.
How easily one can claim to be dominant.
Shocking? No.
We as human beings aspire to attain the intangible.
Exponential wealth. Immortality. Fame. Power.
We live in a world of illusion and fallacy.
We drive cars that we can’t afford,
often to jobs that we despise.
We attain validation through the media,
from blasé people that require it in return.
What I have found- and take this for what you will,
is that my longing for external dominance is simply a translation for
“By god please take control, and ground me to something real.”
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
Let's dance in style, let's dance for a while
Heaven can wait, we're only watching the skies
Hoping for the best, but expecting the worst
Are you gonna drop the bomb or not?
Let us die young or let us live forever
We don't have the power, but we never say never
Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip
The music's for the sad man
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever and ever?
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever, forever?
So we livin' life like a video where the sun is always out
And you never get old and the champagne's always cold
And the music's always good
And the pretty girls just happen to stop by in the hood
And they hop their pretty *** up on the hood of that pretty *** car
Without a wrinkle in today 'cause there's no tomorr'
Just a picture perfect day that lasts a whole lifetime
And it never ends 'cause all we have to do is hit rewind
So let's just stay in the moment, smoke some **** drink some wine
Reminisce, talk some **** forever young is in your mind
Leave a mark that can't erase neither space nor time
So when the director yells "cut," I'll be fine, I'm forever young
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever and ever?
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever, forever?
Fear not when, fear not why, fear not much while we're alive
Life is for living, not living uptight, see ya somewhere up in the sky
Fear not die, I'll be alive for a million years
Bye-byes are not for legends, I'm forever young, my name shall survive
Through the darkest blocks, over kitchen stoves, over Pyrex pots
My name shall be passed down to generations
While debating up in barber shops
Young Slung hung here, Shorty, the ***** from here
With a little ambition, just what we can become here
And as the father passed his story down to his son's ears
Younger kid, younger every year, yeah
So if you love me, baby, this is how you let me know
Don't ever let me go, that's how you let me know, baby
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever and ever?
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever, forever?
Slamming Bentley doors, hopping out of Porsches
Popping up on Forbes lists, gorgeous
Hold up, ****** thought I lost it, they be talking ********
I be talking more **** they nauseous
Hold up, I'll be here forever you know I'm on my fall ****
And I ain't waiting for closure, I will never forfeit less than four bars
Guru bring the chorus in, did you get the picture yet?
I'm painting you a portrait of young
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever and ever?
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever, forever, forever young?
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 11:43 PM UTC
I'll put a brick in my hood
I'll throw a brick to ya dome
I'll shove about anything
To get me through up my nose
And I still flatter them hoes
And get their ******* all wet
Until they drip, drip outta the dryer
I'm washed up they said
Yeah, I'm sauced up too bad
Sick as **** in the head
Don't give a **** about bread
I'm busy countin' my lead
I'm about as sick as they get
So I break up some nugs
Have a *** count my stacks
Line my crib with straight thugs
One, two, three, six, click
Clappin' these sixes while she's suckin' my ****
Leavin' my Deagle 'cause I'm wantin' to live
Givin' heaven the finger 'cause I'm lovin' to sin
No one gonna stop me
Yeah, nothin' that can top me
I'd wreck a fuckin' Bentley
Then suit up on a Harley
Take a trip to Muncie
And load up on some chronic
And smoke until I'm smellin'
Like a farm of hydroponic
**** I gotta get my mind right
But I can't 'cause I'm livin' in the high life
Not a cent gets spent on a dime, right?
Wrong, I spend it all the time
And time keeps tickin'
My watch looks broke 'cause I can't stop spinnin'
Run outta smoke so I tryna hit some resin
My lungs stuck up, but I just keep rippin'
Them souls apart, them hoes apart
Nothin' but the best for my bros so far
I am the number one in this
God-forsaken little blip
Midwestern farmer ****
No one here allowed to spit
But I do everyday
While all my fuckin' neighbors be balin' that hay
Hooray, we got another couple mouths fed
'Til I force-feed 'em an entree of straight lead
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 11:55 PM UTC
yesterday's afternoon tea party was a hit
there were some rather tasty tid bits
cream cakes chocolate slice and ginger biscuits
they were well received in my stomach's pit
my tea was served in a large crockery mug
in which a little sugar cube did sit so snug
I sipped on it slowly with a grin rather smug
twas such a delight partaking of an Earl Gray slug
afternoon tea parties are my cup of tea
and I so enjoy their wonderful spree
I'm planning another one with much glee
for my cousin Fay and her friend Mrs Bentley
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 9:08 PM UTC
I dedicate this poem to all my Friends here, as I narrate the interesting facts about Snowflakes,which is seen in abundance during this time of the year, as I wish them all A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR 2021. A Snowflake is a single ice crystal hardly visible to our naked eyes. During 1805, an American Wilson Bentley for the first time captured in his camera by magnifying them several time for us to see! Best Wishes from – Raj, New Delhi, on the New Year’s Eve of 31st December2020.
*VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR 2021 TO MY FRIENDS
WITH MY TRIBUTE TO SNOWFLAKES*
Composed By Raj Nandy
Deep within the snow covered landscape,
Lies a Symphony of Nature’s microscopic
beauty unseen!
Lying crystallized in a multitude of Snowflakes,
Like a vast hidden world of dreams!
Till young Wilson Bentley became the first,
To photograph the Snowflake’s hidden work
of Art!
These flakes are minute crystals of hexagonal
shapes,
Where no two flakes ever look the same!
Some are shaped like needles and dendrites,
While others like star crystals look bright.
Perhaps those Heavenly Stars from eons past,
Watching mankind that turns to dust,
With their petty quarrels and strife,
And with all their arrogance and pride,
Vainly trying to challenge God’s might;
So they shed their starry tears all through the
night!
Their tears float down as they waltz through
space,
Falling gently like some gossamer lace,
To get congealed into Snowflakes white,
Presenting in the morning a dazzling sight,
Like a drapery over Nature of dazzling white!
While all our impurities they cover and hide,
Those little Snowflakes of little pearly ice, -
Makes the Earth appear like Paradise!
Snowflakes are God’s unique work of art my
friends,
We humans cannot achieve His artistic level of
excellence!
- Raj Nandy, New Delhi,
NOTES :-
It was young Wilson Bentley , who in 1805 , fitted a microscope
to his camera to take the first photographs of Snowflakes ! He
thereby exposed this hidden world of Art to our World ! Hexagonal in shape each snow crystal is made up of about 200 separate crystals with the bonding of hydrogen & oxygen atoms, – forming an infinite variety of patterns, where no two snowflakes look the same! Snow crystals grow faster near 5 degrees Fahrenheit , - falling on ground with temperature below freezing ! The 6 basic shapes of Snowflakes are; - Plate or Flat, Stars , Needles , Dendrite, and Capped column shape.
*ALL COPYRIGHTS RESERVED BY RAJ NANDY*
Dec 31, 2020
Dec 31, 2020 at 10:51 PM UTC
Flecks of color amid the gray wash
Rivers once formidable now only bothersome
Steel and concrete
Voices shouting
WAKE UP! an advertising sign screams silently
Still unheard a man jangles for change on a street corner
While church doors hang wide begging charity
Hockey games and unspoken rivalries
Except on national T.V
Bike shops, bus stops
Messengers and a mail box
Highways to by ways
But no one knows the right way
Got Junk?
Emotional maybe
Bentley's, all the baggage you'll never need
Oh please, words flow in chorus
Dramatic gestures following fluid as trained actors
Therapy is the way for me
Why not with M.D degrees being handed out like fortune cookies
No real complaints until you find yourself on Dr. Fill in the blank
Listening with glazed eyes as they doles out advice like Opera
Glass half full until its pushed off the metaphorical table
But how does that make you feel?
It's all become to much now
As directed on the back packaging
Please recycle your brain matter
They may need the ad space
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 8:47 PM UTC
In the schisms of light changes,
Between the honking horns of crying babies
And angry mothers,
The cars hunched in anticipation
Like the smoker’s tongue rolling
Against the teeth for that nicotine speed.
A starry-eyed woman blinked with no destination
In her husband’s Bentley.
The rumbling is the crunching grind of helmets
In a pigskin scrimmage.
I can barely stand the
Stop-Go
Inch-Worming
Of brake-lights.
Car’s trembling is the twitching squirrel
Panic-caught in a lightsocket.
Even if the slim traffic-conductor
That burns like plastic on the fire
Yields us through like a coaxing father,
Hollow eyes don’t yield the lethargic feet.
Remnants of the second millenium’s gas-scorn,
Our can-do attitudes goad our chariots to
Hack
And
Spit
Dust-Sludge in gridlocked gossip.
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 11:45 PM UTC
The American dream
Is a Bentley
With some shiny thing
Selfish arrogant human beings
Wanting more and more
While some places could use a doctor
Plumbing of any kind
Would be mighty fine
And something to eat
Well that’s like a treat
The American style
Has us throwing good clothes away
No need to save
Or share
No need to care
For someone else
Only numero uno matters
In other places races just wish
That the police would cut their ****
Stop pointing guns at them
And shooting their children
Or that local warlords
Would leave their children be
Democracy is just a pipe dream
The American way
Strives to separate us
In competitive groups
Desensitize us
And dehumanize the other
In other places people share
Out of love
What little they have
They are glad
To give to another
So who is civilized?
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 8:20 AM UTC
Deal or No Deal A tribute to Florence Bentley
Deal or No Deal her favourite host would say
Noel Edmonds to her just a mere youngster
Fun and the thrill of it all is what she liked
A gift she had and many more amongst her.
In her youth she looked like a film star
Stunningly beautiful like Marilyn Monroe
Laughter was important to her
Met with a smile and a “mind how you go”
She would giggle and had a twinkle in her eye
That twinkle staying to the bitter end
Our mum has lost a supportive sister
And a lifelong best friend.
Now that we are met with sorrow in our hearts
But then she would not want that – not our flo
So with a brave smile on all of our faces
We say farewell aunty flo and mind how you go
My Auntie Flo passed away a couple of years ago but most days I still think about her.
She was cheerful always and an absolute star. I read my poem out at her funeral and as her final curtains closed I read the last line out, with a brave smile for her then crumbled.
She was 97 when she passed away and worked all of her life. Once again Auntie Flo this is for you.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 1:19 AM UTC
#24 | 31 Poems for August 2016
This is not my life, it’s just a temporary façade, if you listen to my voice you’ll discover that it’s my disguise.
I fully acknowledge the fact that I am not perfect but I’d love to believe that I’m worth it.
The hardest part of saying goodbye is seeing me cry and knowing that I’ll no longer get the chance to see you smile.
I wrote this on a Tuesday morning while listening to Siegfried by Frank Ocean while reading the pages of a Dan Brown novel.
I’d build Rome for you in a day and make you forget about all the negative things that critics always say.
Heartbreak comes in the morning when the sun is shining and the wind is blowing.
My heart breaks as I try to piece this piece together and hopefully find peace by the end of this masterpiece.
I’m tired like the Michelin Man but I still have great drive like a brand new Bentley or Benz.
Some days I’m more Bukowski than Dickens, flipping through the pages of my life as the plot thickens.
They say perception is flawed and distorted, perception is key and I need to find a locksmith.
Contemplating about unexpected goodbyes while living off a temporary high.
A part of me had already anticipated the heartbreak so this time around the effects were less detrimental.
My eyes and mind are blinded by the love that my heart obstinately believes in.
I’m thankful for your love, you gave me something to believe in but the time has come for me to be leaving.
This is not my life, it’s just a temporary façade, if you analyse my poetry you’ll discover that it’s my disguise.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
you dislike the kisses I give you
you say no to the rubs on your back
pushing my hand away
pushing me away
pushing my love away
woe to you, I see you now
jumping to the beats of my new Bentley
gnashing your teeth to the screech of my thick rubber
waiting on my love like Godot
I see you man
I see you wanting to be the center
the center that you were
the center that you want to always be
the center that YOU WILL BE NO MORE
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
Stick shift, seatbelt quick, 120k
Cool grin, bites lip, worry starts to fade
He tucks my hair behind my ear, oh so ever gently
Halted finally, stepping out of the 2014 Bentley
Swagger of his hips, lead mine to the door
His million dollar home, everything in store
Opens it, easy- then 1,2,3
Closes the door, and puts me on my knees
"You've been a very bad girl" he smirks down at me
Pushes my face into the bulge I see
I back up for a moment, weakness under his disguise
I bite my lip, and look up at him
With my lustful baby blue eyes
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
I don't miss you
The way most people miss things.
It's not like I can get in my car and drive to you.
I can't say "draw me a map that leads me back to you"
Because honestly Dierks Bentley is right "I don't know where to go or what I'm suppose to do".
I want to see you, not your headstone.
I want to hold your hand.
But the closest I'll get to holding your hand
Is holding my own.
As I cry on my pillow
Wishing I wasn't alone.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 2:16 AM UTC
Late Sunday mornings beside 'Rabbit rock' on the walk home from Scott Lake , across the highway down Hemphill Road toward beautiful Camp Creek ... Blackberry stained hands , prying waters in search of crawdads and mud puppies , jumping 'Bobwhite's' along the Pine forest edge .. Whitetail tracks in every direction , homeward bound through fields of corn and sorghum , summer sky filled with the glorious music of the Bentley Hill UMC choir , reverberating through the wisteria scented countryside ...
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
Benedict came in
from the pumps
at the gas station
having served
the Indian guy
with the Rolls Royce
who gave him a tip.
He put the money in the till
and closed it
and pocketed
the coins of tip.
Miss Billings stood
at the doorway
of the small front office,
hand on her hip,
head to one side.
Benny Boy,
do you think
the men who come in here
fancy me?
I don't know,
Benedict said.
Do you think they'd
like to shaft me?
He looked non-plus,
shrugged his shoulders,
don't know,
he said.
She smiled.
Would you like
to shaft me, Benny Boy?
She did a turn,
hands on hips,
eyes bright open.
Shaft?
He repeated.
What do you mean?
She smiled more,
white teeth showing,
hips swaying.
Well, when that Riley
comes in, he often says,
I could give you
a good rogering.
Do you know
what he means,
Benny Boy?
No,
Benedict said.
It means having ***
with someone, Kid,
having it off.
She laughed.
Would you like that?
I can see it now
in the headlines,
and she made movements
with her finger to suggest
newspaper headlines
in the air.
Boy of 15 shafts
22 year old woman
in back of Bentley
in gas station.
Benedict watched her
as she stood,
hands on hips,
smiling at him.
Well, not to worry, Kid,
because you won't get
the chance,
and she walked off
swaying her hips
in Monroe fashion,
her blonde hair
flowing free,
her white clothed backside
moving side to side
and disappeared
in the back office
to do the accounts.
He stood watching
the door swing shut,
the image of her
still stuck in his mind,
the swaying backside and hips,
the hair flowing blonde and free.
He smiled.
In his bed at night,
between the sheets,
lights out,
moonlight glowing,
he had *** with her,
freely, slowly,
without her knowing.
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 3:00 AM UTC
I woke up this morning: feeling so hot and sticky
therefore, I decided to wash my car,
In addition, I was having so much fun: under the sun
The soapsuds, became uncontrollable
I struggled: to keep my short, above my knee.
Up came Officer Bentley and busted me
for indecent exposure on private property
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
Dragun lord warrior of dark blooded soils.
You lead the men to there transcended.
Eager to disslove there reasons.
Despite the bridge was being rased.
Silver tail horses were sent from under volcanos defending.
Musk rats and rabbits stealing corn and wiskey from the moon shiners tavern.
Drink quick, as the door pushed open promptly, who is the of anger and none manners.
It's is me Leo, from cave highs near bentley town.
The grim reaper and his souls repeat there old habits creating Hellish disasters.
Let's prepare the spell of bindment.
Recite with me fellows and say grim reaper hells refuge you have no version here.
Be gone with souls you stealthed and stole for they only where not death and void.
Your promise to give them your powers and fighting abblites.
From whence, the trees where harvested for there hides to make a new script and spell book for ivory tablets and shelves.
Men dressed of red suits medal belts and center a infusion coil sparks of purple source energy where emitting power.
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 9:23 AM UTC
My mother told me to leave my mark
wherever I went.
When I asked her what did she mean,
She told me,
How she wanted me to leave
my name and my brand
as a symbol and signature
of my 'identity'.
'Identity', how would it look like...
Will it be tall so that it can
reach success even without climbing up.
Will it be hour-glass with curves
large enough to be liked.
Will it be fair so that it can be lonely too.
Will it be rich so that it can purchase Bugatti and Bentley.
Will it be smart so that it can create its success if it is not provided with any.
Will it be beautiful so that it can make people stop and stare.
Will it be kind so that it heals and saves what has been killed.
Or will it be soft so that it weighs every word before it speaks?
But then my mother told me your identity is 'you'.
But I cannot become my identity because I am not a signature to be looked at or a mark to be left.
So when I looked up in the dictionary
I found how mark is synonymous for
1.Stain
that I got on my sweatpant this morning.
2.Bruise
that has covered my neck like a mosaic painting.
3.Scratch
that has been carved on my legs by my own hands.
4.Blemish
that I have thrown on my parent's name and 'identity'.
5.Blot
that has covered my pages and hands because my pen is broken.
6.Scar
that stays on my heart.
7.Label
that I have put on myself and let others call me by it.
8.Identity
that I do not have.
My mother told me to leave my mark wherever I went.
But, wherever I went,
I gained one.
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 2:16 AM UTC
When I win the lottery,
Gonna buy a new wardrobe,
Go shopping in my new Bentley
For a diamond necklace of my name
so big it touches my navel on one side,
and the crack in my *** on the other,
A watch so big, gonna have to hire
Somebody to carry my arm,
And a mansion just for my stuff
And another to live in.
Nah.
Gotta car, born in 2 double O three,
Runs fine and plentygoodenough.
My watch maybe runs fast or slow,
By a coupe of minutes,
Course never can't be sure,
But tells me the hour around and that's
plentygoodenough.
Got me plenty T- shirts and shorts,
All in readiness for the summer a coming,
Pants and jeans in every waist size I ever been (Don't Ask)'
Over the last ten years, no needy for more,
plentygoodenough.
The house I live in well, the closets,
Scream when opened, empty me out,
But that's not (mostly) my stuff,
As you may have guessed,
So I when it comes to dresses n' shoes
We shouldn't be singing the blues but maybe
plentygoodenough.
Got a better idea for when I win,
Gonna get in my car,
Gonna take my watch off permanently
Gonna clean and box all this extra stuff,
Take it down to Goodwill,
No need to wait, till I win,
Gonna be doing it this morning,
Right after I give you this poem,
plentygoodenough.
6:43 AM
June too, 2 and 0 and thirteen
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 6:52 AM UTC
twenty three twenty three twenty three
sin the leaves spent the free when in tea
sent to seem bentley ream really keen
forty six forty six forty six
torture brick court see lick forced he rips
more the ships for lean mix bore me sticks
twenty and two twenty and six
forty and three, keep kept that this
poetry poetry poetry
Jan 11, 2023
Jan 11, 2023 at 3:21 AM UTC