"bette" poems
Dear Hot Straight Actresses,
Stop playing perfect lesbian characters on TV that cause me to become wet on lonely Thursday nights.
It’s the equivalent of waving double chocolate fudge cake in front of a menstruating woman who has just been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes.
To name a few,
Jennifer Beals as Bette Porter on The L Word.
Stop it!
Naya Rivera as the sassy Santana Lopez on Glee.
Stop it!
Angie Harmon as butch goddess Detective Jane Rizzoli on Rizzoli & Isles.
You may be in the closet but you are gay and stop!
And Sara Ramirez and Jessica Capshaw as the married ****** Dr. Cali Torrez and Dr. Arizona Robbins of Grey’s Anatomy.
You…you keep going. You two give me hope.
Hope that someday my insanely high expectations will be met when my hot art collecting, sassy mouthed Doctor with handcuffs in her back pocket jumps from the screen and onto my sweatpants covered lap.
In this crazy assumption that I’ll end up falling out of an apple tree letting gravity push me into the arms of a woman who fixes my broken sense of reality with a amazing great hair and a wedding proposal.
Missing out on the
Hot barista who gives me an extra large when I ask for a small
or the
Budding **** artist who invites me to her galleries only to realize her muse has oddly the same hips as me.
or the
Best friend who is still stuck in the shadows of my closet.
Nope…didn’t see any of those.
I’m too busy watching the **** tube to see what low cut tops they can get away with before they leave the set and back to their husband and 2.5 kids.
All I’m asking is…
…when is it coming out on DVD?
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 7:17 AM UTC
let’s go back a
hundred-thousand years
to these ragged edges
torn rains
raw greens
biting seas
to the first sunrise,
now understood.
tears of calm joy –
a return.
we find ourselves
in this,
a kinship;
our brother is
our keeper,
and we
its’ guardian,
walk the edges
and the smooths;
our planet,
Earth’s children
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 8:08 AM UTC
HaHA, I've done it! I've created a device
That can tap into my subconscious
and translate it for all to hear.
I will win the Nobel Prize!
I will be rich beyond my wildest dreams!
People will LIKE me!
So let's see here....I put on the cap, set the throttobombulator to 8.
Adjust for fuzzy dialation...set the circuit threshold to .79, make
sure the lucid translation synapses are firing...and yes. The next
words you hear will surely be written in History books one day,
much like Thomas Edison's first phonograph recording, or the
first telephone call!
Neural connection is active. Transmitting
**TRANSGENDERED KANGAROOS FORNICATE IN THE
PURPLE SHADE OF BETTE MIDLER'S THIGHS. PLEASE
PERFORM ******** AT THE BEHEST OF BUDDHIST
MONKS WITH LISPS. COUNT TO TEN AND BECOME
A BUXOM BLONDE ***** WITH BOUNCY *******
WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES TWELVE, CINDARELLA IS
ON HER KNEES AND ELBOWS BECAUSE IT'S ******
HARD TO GET LOW ENOUGH TO PLEASURE A DWARF**
Oh dear. This can't be right....now where's that 'off' switch?
**JACK AND JILL WENT OFF THE PILL SO JACK COULD
BE A FATHER. JACK WENT DOWN TO LONDON TOWN
AND PUNCHED THE DALAI LAMA. EDIBLE *******
GIVE YOU INDIGESTION. DO YOU KISS YOUR MOTHER
WITH THAT MOUTH, BECAUSE YOU SHOULD. (AND USE
SOME TONGUE THIS TIME)**
Oh My...Ladies and Gentlemen, It's clear that my invention
is experiencing technical difficulties. If you would please be patient---
**SATIN BRAS DON'T CHAFE. NONE OF THE SMURFS
HAD BLUE ***** THANKS TO SMURFETTE. I WONDER
WHAT MARY MAGDELINE WAS LIKE IN THE SACK? **
STUPIDSmashPieceSmashof GARBAGESMASH
DoNT LikE iT? tucK iT bAcK!!
Connection Lost
I...erm...clearly have some more work to do before it is ready
for the pubic--er..public. I have run into some...translation
errors...and need to re lubricate--CALIBRATE a few things.
Please don't tell my mother.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 12:12 AM UTC
~~~@
**a maze of tunnels
under blacktop
a poesy of lilies dark as dusk
a bette noir drawn on
charcoal paper
an elephant's carcass
sans his tusk
the negative without a cipher
the poem written in the dark
the Good Book without a cover
the human blood that
draws the shark
as i sit here
twilight's falling
i'll sit here in the failing light
i'll sit here looking at black rainbows
til my heart bleeds its last goodnight**
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
Ladies of the Net… A warning to male adolescents everywhere…
“Hi Honey….I just got matched with your profile”… At least that’s what I think it said.
Brilliant I thought because I’m available and life round here is, well…it’s dead
“I’m looking for an experienced guy who’s good in bed… been round the block, but not the clock…
One with plenty of experience and a huge…err…appetite…
for hooking up instead of these inexperienced boys…
They’re all excitable, probably all over too quick…
need someone with poise reserve and a twelve inch errr… Libido?… ego?
Click my pics kiddo and let’s get it on… you Stud!… Well I would!
****** hell! I’m overwhelmed but let’s not peak too soon…
There’s loads of stuff coming in as Spam that would probably make us all swoon.
So check it out…without fail, “eeeh!” They’re all there - these ladies of the net - they crop up daily -
Sheila Blige… Tanya Hide… Mandy May, Bette Sheedus, Lovinia ****
I’m not sure if these are their real names... But - Phew -
with things like this going on round here we could all get *******
She says she’s just round the corner, you know like Sompting, Steyning, LA (that must be Littlehampton)… Southwick…Little Haven Halt, Portslade.
We could meet in a lay-by and we’ll get laid… just an innocent little escapade.
It won’t be my fault if you miss this chance…
Just try it - I’ll handcuff you to the bed and lap dance.
Click on my pix, big boy, they all beckon.
Take a closer look at these sonny boy - now what do you reckon?
Well, you’d have to say they do look very alluring in the taster…
so why not just click...
to the next page… see the site… don’t waste-ya time…CLICK!
****** hell! The screen’s gone blank…
now I won’t even be able to have a ____
Knock, Knock, Knock!
"Kevin!!!?"..."Mum?" "Is that you?" "Yes Mum!… Everything’s OK!… I’m just turning out the light… G’night!"
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 5:45 AM UTC
She expressed again
what others have known..
the ironing chore found
quietly calming
bringing sometimes
bliss to a day..
What is behind this
smoothing of wrinkles
which serves such
wellbeing and peace..?
Perhaps we find here
in striking resemblance
an old story..
night becomes day
martha becomes mary
as our wrinkles
are pressed..
With thanks to Bette
her example and sevice
and for this new
ironingboard parable...!
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
You may see a vacant lot
Where a building has burned down
But I see a garden spot
With flowers growing all around.
And maybe a bench to sit
A take a while to appreciate
What can be done by people
With loving energy to dedicate.
You may see an empty field
Overrun by neglect and weeds.
But, I see a garden here,
And care is really all it needs.
Maybe some cutting back
And of course, a lot of water.
But time and compassion
Is what will ultimately matter.
Realtors may calculate
The money to make from this land
But, I see a garden
That needs some helping hands.
Maybe some cows can graze
Or a pretty little babbling brook.
A place of nature’s bounty
Like out of a wonderful storybook.
Do we need one more store,
Or one more fast food restaurant?
Maybe some serenity is
What people of the world really want.
Some may see a patch of dirt
And not much more than fallow earth.
As for me, I see a garden.
A bit of paradise right here on earth.
(This was written for and about Bette Midler.)
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC
Retro Morn: Re-Reading Jenny (1.) and Her Purple Hat, (2.), Listening to Vonda Shepard
I am a beautiful woman, and reliably informed so,
by handsome. men, lustful fools, and one too many
sideward glances
in a difference place, musical needs call me out to retro smooth me
away from the waves of nausea of news repeats ingested, the lesser
qualities of human beings basic basest nature, I inhale subdued
Jenny’s defiance of life’s expectations and Vonda’s voice
smooth my discordant emotive candles that won’t stay lit,
add in a touch of melting Joni & Divine Ms. Bette,
gets me slow kickstarting
and I have not reached
the lofty plateau of
twenty five years of age
*but my mom, the Queen Regent, reminds me royalty possesses
very old souls, which Is why I’m caught out listening, dancing
awake to the music of her youth* and hear her discreetly humming the tunes, even though the phone connection broken minutes earlier
she signed off with a practised Elizabethan airy disturbance royal wave of her hand, instructing this raining (no, not reigning)
Queen to “darling go write a poem…”
don’t we all listen to our mothers?*
my name is brandychanning
music inhale subdued kickstarting a poem
Dec 13, 2023
Dec 13, 2023 at 12:35 PM UTC
At The Mall:
___________
A lot of push pull
mixed messages...
I love it says Carrie.
(The Jewish neurotic head).
In The Synagogue:
________________
Excited about D.N.A.
Developing plans to draft Goyim.
Charlotte's Predicament:
_____________________
Gave up Christ for you,
now living of the flesh.
Just what New York needs--another single Jewish girl.
Christ no longer the comforter, she wants the god of fertility to bless her
and her house: Mary the mother of child rearing bless the womb and its fruit. He's not all that perhaps she'll come back...
At The Breakfast Table:
____________________
She states she is no fair weather Jew,
as Bette Midler-esque (Carrie) plastic surgery head listens.
This new found religion she's not giving it up.
The Walk:
_________
Welfare martini,
religious mourning,
and Freudian synopsis.
Peter ******* Interruption:
_______________________
Quit job, hoping for a breakthrough;
perhaps questioning Goyim's worth.
Bed Time:
________
Money issues.
At The Bar:
__________
At a loss despite her Jewish brilliance; and
Freudian synopsis.
At Theater:
__________
Male homo-sexual companion and Charlotte's progressivism.
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 5:47 AM UTC
Feeling the duanting cry - aloof.
Like a violin with its haunting strings.
I was in a coma-like state of sleep.
The knock at the door.
The dead swan on the butcher's block.
The brilliant faces and signed will.
Borrowed cigarette in the back seat of
the black Mercedes-Benz with Bette Davis.
I stunned in my black suit and silk tie.
I noticed her blank stare from behind
those huge sunglasses. I sighed deeply -
high tailing my heels out the door.
The dead swan on the butcher's block.
I lingered in dismay (I felt paralyzed),
stroked by the rapture of the male swan.
I prayed. Bette Davis is dead.
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
My mother dearly wanted
to be Dorothy Parker.
She yearned for a taste of the power that comes
from a truly witty response.
She craved to deliver
A statement so powerful
and sardonic that it would terminate
all argument or discussion.
My proximity made me an easy target to practice on
as each of our arguments ended with a bon mot
delivered with the all the acerbic flourish of Bette Davis.
As I listened to her footsteps receding down the hallway
I had only to take one more breath
before the footsteps reversed direction
and - standing at the doorway to my room -
She would deliver another culminating witticism
turn, leave and repeat.
In the fifties and sixties an intelligent woman –
a single mother of three
with no high school diploma,
but a surfeit of imagination –
Savoured what little power she could find
even if it was a fiction, a delusion
or just a punchline sharp enough to draw blood.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 3:28 PM UTC
I know it's a mask
I know it's a game
You're a liar
We are all liars
You pretend in front of the world
I know the real you
We're bitter rivals even until the end
We laugh and smile at the world masquerading our feud as trivial matter
However, behind closed doors it's an all out war!
The two halves of you are deliberately parted
If the world knew who you truly are and what you do
All memory of you would be instantly shamed and your good name would be tarnished - forever ruined
I know you; a girl with a humble start
You came from nothing
You've clawed, lied, cheated, and schemed
You've broken hearts and did damage
It's ok; we've all done it at some point in our lives
We are all despicable and wretched souls
You are Joan
I'm Bette
Our feud is so bitter, toxic, and complicated that its intangible yet pure palpable
I don't know how it all will end, all I know is this:
Golden rule of life: never underestimate your rivals.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 12:20 PM UTC
I'm afraid of the future
I'm afraid my parents wont live long
enough to see my kids
I'm scared my girls will get pregnant
at not the exact time we want
I'm scared I'll never each my potential
I'm afraid she's still in love with that dude
I'm afraid people hate who I really am
I'm afraid I hate who I really am
I'm scared people will find out what I ********** too
I'm afraid I'm here for nothing
I'm afraid people think I hate my race
I'm afraid people think I hate women
I hate how people can say anything
I hate caring what people think
I'm afraid theres someone bette for you or me
I'm afraid this is all an accident
I'm afraid I'll regret this
I'm afraid this doesn't matter at all
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
Not being able to decide between
Audrey
and
Katharine
is not a real problem, my friend!
The hardness of life begins
when you meet
Bette
and
Grace.
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PAO8vlvPS88]
PS:
have you seen
Lauren
and
Greta?
They might have changed their phone number.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 4:46 AM UTC
They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row.
Cinderella, she seems so easy
"It takes one to know one," she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning,
"You belong to Me I Believe."
And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend
You'd better leave."
And the only sound that's left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row.
Ophelia, she's 'neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
I bathe myself in preparation
Suds of lavender & honey
lathered over my smooth summer skin
I even shave
just for you
Moroccan oil pours over my scalp
exfoliating extra well behind the ears
ah the ears
my favorite spot
Gently dry off
Making sure not to miss any spots
above the knee
where usually a stubble island lingers
make sure the *******
are like starfruit
ready for your suckling
Lather cocoa butter
on elbows and around neckline
sensual, a paradise for you
My argan oil tresses, your palm trees
drown lashes in bat black
curl them upward towards cloudy head
I pinch already flushed cheeks
nice and baby doll pink, just the way you like it
All the while staining lips vamp scarlet
so that you may think their sole purpose
on my face is for
circling around your ****
I tweeze brows into crescent moons
over a Bette Davis eye sky
And I won't dare forget to bleach each pearly tooth
picket fence white
So when I flash my counterfeit grin
a twinkle may appear
and blur the emptiness
lurking between both corners
Now for the ***** bra pairing
of course midnight lace and twin
You, my dear get to unwrap this body of mine
How will you choose what to unravel first?
******* or ****
Decisions. Decisions.
All of it for your
heartbreaking ***** machismo
I arrive,
just as those perfect hands
of your clock
strike the moment you wanted them to
You dine
licking your fingers after each dish
You breathe cigarette breathe
Your pungent odor wreaks over my body
as yours climbs aboard
Hair, greasy hamburger follicles
Skin, porous with choking chemicals
And there is nothing to unwrap
nothing for me to find
Except an empty chest
The gold had been in my pockets the whole time
I must bathe you off.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
It took every ounce of self control
not
to kiss you...
not to take you in my arms
inhaling deep
the very scent of floral meadows
from your hair
not to hold your hands
with fingers trembling
nor to speak openly
my love...
my feelings
that I have
so often
held
here ...
close to my chest
muffling the very beating
of my heart
in such pained
poetic silence
Yet
but for one moment of weakness
I could have made known
my need
my pain
my longing to be touched
but no
for I would never risk
all we are ...
nor all we have
for one moment
of
madness.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
*and I am fine..
she speaks first
this her report
each Monday noon
when our group
Soup Salad Scripture
convenes to her
weekly de-light..
Visiting her home we
met precision and grace..
a white decor reflects
her sun-lightened hair..
in her elevated space
we imagined the Peak
closer than before..
her walls portray
her art fascination
a loving life partner
all in this Moment
times in Alaska
and the wide world..
with all this
she served us wine..
we know now
she is Bette
and she is fine...*
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
(If you don’t know the song from GYPSY, "Everything's Coming Up Roses,” by Jule Styne and Stephen Sondheim, listen to Bette Midler’s version on YouTube. Then try singing this poem to the melody.)
We can all see…
The truth is so clear, people.
It's not just a smear, people.
It's what we should fear. Oh, people,
Like two peas
In a pod
Such a friendship might seem rather odd.
As for us,
We can see,
People, all roads lead clearly to Putin.
Business deals
Or *** tapes?
Microphones hidden in drapes?
So bizarre…
We can see,
People, all roads lead clearly to Putin.
They're going strong now.
What could be their desire?
Putin knows how
He'll make the president kowtow.
Will Trump lift
Sanctions soon?
Will both keep on singing in tune?
Just you wait
And you’ll see
Who is whose
Devotee.
It's strange to watch the two talk crook to crook.
People, all roads lead clearly to Putin wherever we look.
They contrive this
Situation at hand.
We'll survive this;
Maybe we'd better archive this.
Putin wants
In Ukraine
To make it part of Russia's domain.
Where this goes,
Who can tell?
Doesn't this
Ring a bell?
'Cause they know every trick that's in the book.
People, all roads will lead us to true Russian meddling;
All roads will lead to the White House’s cover-ups;
All roads lead Trump to just one place without a doubt;
ALL ROADS LEAD CLEARLY TO PUTIN WHEREVER WE LOOK!
-by Bob B (11-19-19)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cm6Vi7WdK-k
Nov 20, 2019
Nov 20, 2019 at 8:17 AM UTC
I like a classic movie
One with Bogie and Bacall
Kate Hepburn in her heyday
Or Errol Flynn in a brawl
A Cary Grant comedy
Irene Dunne at his side
Bette Davis raising hell
Or Frankenstein's scary bride
I think of Ingrid Bergman's smile
The sweetest nun appearing onscreen
And Mae West's sassy manner
As she lit up every scene
Spencer Tracy wowed us
Charlie Chaplin made us roar
Great stars, great stories, great times
The movies I adore
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
The dust of denial does finally settle,
the sound of my heartbeat is metal on metal.
The river of sorrow runs dreadfully dry
the beat of my drum is a withered old sigh.
You breathe life to my body and love to my mind,
if god is in heaven this must be a sign.
The more I take out, the more I will crumble
grab me when I fall, catch me when I stumble.
You smell just like roses, you ***** like one too,
when I look out the window all I see is you.
It’s real like the sun and it burns just as hot,
to hurt or to leave you, well, that I could not.
Love in the winter, spring, summer and fall,
your body and mind of you I want all.
There’s fish in the sea but I’m hook, line and sinker,
you get even cuter when your cheeks turn pinker.
My body’s a letter the postage is love,
Dear Bette, I love you, won’t you be my dove.
P.S. you’re so pretty and wonderful too.
P.P.S. please know what I am saying is true.
In rain I’m your cover, in snow I’m your gloves,
if you’re cold then I want to warm you up with love.
I’m here to protect you through the lonely night
‘cause you give me white wings so I can take flight.
You are so special you don’t understand,
I just want to stay here and hold on your hand.
I’m down in the shafts, for love I’m a miner,
forever I’m stuck, 'cause it only gets finer.
I am here and I am strong,
my heart beats louder than a gong.
I want to hold you in my arms
and keep you from all the harm.
Bette, oh Bette I hope you can see,
your eyes and your body do hypnotise me.
You leave me so speechless, I can’t catch a breath,
when I am in your arms, I don’t fear death.
You make me so happy, it’s quite plain to see,
your lips are my drug they intoxicate me.
My life is a canvass for you to create,
how many ways can I tell you, you’re great.
You are my Bette for the world to see
you’re my hearts protector to watch over me.
My beautiful kitten if you purr for me,
I’ll give you my heart since you have the key.
Your name is Bette and now I can see
that life starts and ends with you and with me.
I want you forever, know I am here to stay,
if ever I lost you, I would lose my way.
I love you, I love you, I love you, I do
did I say that I love? Well you know it's true.
Worries and doubts of those I have none,
you are my moon, my stars and my sun.
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 7:54 PM UTC
Howard Robard Hughes
Famously rich recluse
Dreams led him to the lap of luxury
Followed by nightmarish mysophobic OCD
Rich ******* aviator Howard Hughes
With movie starlets kept himself amused
Dated Katherine Hepburn
Bette Davis took her turn
And still more, which kept the tabloids confused
Born Howard Robard Hughes to a rich family
With English, Welsh and French Huguenot ancestry
Enjoyed a successful multi-faceted business career
But aviation and aerospace were his favorite frontier
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 11:55 AM UTC