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Amanda Powell Jan 2018
My friend and I have names for each other when we need to channel our inner divas.  Mine is Beyonce Pad Thai.

Beyonce Pad Thai doesn’t care what you think because she’s too busy caring about what she thinks!

Beyonce Pad Thai doesn’t put up with your **** because **** is literally digested waste and she demands undigested life.  The life you use to the fullest without any waste!

Beyonce Pad Thai has goals you didn’t even know were possible.  She knows they’re possible because she writes them down every. single. day.  She works towards them every. single. day. and the universe gives her exactly what she asks for.

Beyonce Pad Thai doesn’t take offense to your words because she knows words come out of us and therefore they live in us and when we exhale them they’re more about us than the person they hit on the way out.

Beyonce Pad Thai is so awesome and fun she knows time spent with her is a gift.  When she gives you that gift and your lack of appreciation is apparent she has no problem taking it away and giving that gift to others.

Beyonce Pad Thai is done talking about you now.  She wants to find herself, in the crack of a newly opened book, in the b flat of a new flute song, in the sizzling sounds of a new recipe, in the times new roman of a dream job offer, in the middle of a twirl during her new favorite song, in the new comfort outside her comfort zone.  


10/22/2016 Amanda Powell
{acofoc

    Pacific

so distant so
cold

            tuna
flesh
cold

start with the weird: then work your way to the profound...
alright?

now i have to work backwards
from the artist
Beyonce
and Rihanna are too close
too black
too vinyl
too leather
and choc big choc O choke on this choc
diddy ***
i wonder where is my rhythm in thoughts
and in books and death
and this woman keeps me grounded
while Katy Perry
goes to Mars
white girl energy
i mean she goes to space
and the white *******
are making fun of her
going into male lavatories
i think that's an ask to answer
for the thai and white transgender realism
and the african homosexuality
i did wonder
what i felt at a Beyonce t-shirt
gig
working her gig not
actually going to her gig
i think that's enough of an excuse
to buy a t-shirt
i worked the gig
maybe a work t-shirt
or a Hawaiian shirt
gig shirts
the guy with the gig shirts
was he a rodie
or what was he security
body close body on body
i wonder
i'm not listening to Beyonce's Rain Dance
Rain Dance Renaissance... pt 1
with Cowboy Carter
like the interlude
or rather Enlightenment no part II
dance advent
so that's why the gay crowd
italian and spanish
i am such an easy pick
outside the club scene
and there is a club scene like
there's history
of people painting animals in caves
while having ******
come on come
on when
nature was absolving and without
sins and thoughts
oh my god
it was so weird
so weird

       dance Beyonce
and today i wanted to buy Cowboy Carter
at my local HMV
and then nothing in vinyl or CD
when mercury is solid
as sound vibrating
how mercury the metal was
report to chase against charcaol
in vinyl
how we wrote sometime ago on paper
and now in Belzeebub's pixel eyes
i cctv and no other man
working a Beynce gig
working a Beyonce gig
      i mean working for my wife
like i might be working for Beyonce
i am night and giggles
i think i am night and giggles
all white pale moon
i couldn't buy the ******* album
on AMAZON
but i could buy plenty of cowboy hats!
i could buy plenty of those!
but i didn't
there were only 7 CDs
of Renaissance
left online and some stashed
in the physical reality
in a shop
in a storage space
i mean there is so much *** vibration
that she has homosexual men worshiping
woman somehow
the music itself
she can be elevated for breaking Bach's polyphony
Beyonce is the anti-polyphony
and this is a real venture into philosophy
and thinking about music as a res per se
for the food of the mouths
res cogitans and res extensa
music as a res per se
the fire of packages and all
like burning postage stamps
buying and then Anarchist all the postoffices
burn stamps
keep the money
let us need closer to us
let us need closer to us...

          sometimes music brought around
psychopathic propagandist overtones
of ego-crushing solipsism: not the positive
solipsism of the freedom
among the schools of Ancient Greece:
i just want to hug a poodle and a pillow
and so much sub-culture
that i'm only hearing now

i worked inside and now i'm working
outside
and i'm reigning in the cowboys
and cowgirls and i'm the bull
reining in the cattle
of imaginary hats and horses
i said to the Horse:
let me work this one Shift of being Human
and being one of the few Bulls
i don't know if
but i know there are Four of You
so there must be Two of Me
because a One of Me
invokes the Tree and Alien Insects...
so no...
i don't believe even Serpents are that stupid
but from Bull to Horse
i am telling you... about Trees and Insects
and the Apes are a Democracy
where we can shoot off our ***** bank...
you get the races
and cars
i get fine tasting burgers
my flesh not the lamb
but who the Jews celebrated the bulls...
but there i go off the tangent=     =+     /+=?
and all those vibes and vying for enough
colours
because i wanted to experience
the artist after the pop youth
i mean herself
make my own music
and little Eminem i mean a dancing
monkey
i do have a background in Reggae and Jazz
they shaped the most crucial moments
in my life
i inherited that after like
a Trig
a Cosine grapy:  Jazz     Reggae
                            Jazz Reggae
a Sine graph:
                       Classical
                                            Rock
      ­                 Classical  Rock

Tan:                  Time
  Impersonal                         Space Personal
Space             and              Time
when i was walking through the crowd
i asked for their umbrellas
and i just started to pluck those mushrooms
from the fairies of women
lining up
and it was like the best club
i ever worked
it was like the microcosm of the night life
i am still working the only venue in London
where no pubs and small clubs exist
away from us alone at the Coliseum
and let's return to the quiet life
the good life
and i need to move away from London

BREAK MY SOUL:
sorry... i had to REWIND...
unlike i had to sKI{P
on the first album i got into
Cow cow: i mean that duet with
Mreyl Streep: Mylee Circus...
i can't spell her name
******* on some sweets
but the dynamic of
M People hyped on
and Gabrielle pirate
songs from the 1990s...
she's 41... an older woman:
i think i understand older women
i don't think anymore than
seeing many daughters
and i have a fat cow for a wife
and i like plenty of thigh milk
my thigh-milk and cream...

REWIND x2
found my Bodyguard song early
on the album
the album dynamic is
overtly wow!
cerebral it's like mozart yes
a learning tool
translating language
works best to be bilingual
two albums apart
Alexis Apr 2014
Society is so focused on being flawless.  Perfect.  No one is flawless, not even Beyonce.  We will forget who we are on the inside, and soon that won’t even matter because the physical appearance is the main priority.  Women these days are spending so much effort trying to look perfect, which hurts.  Pretty hurts.  Society is expecting women to look perfect, otherwise people will judge.  ‘Perfection is a disease of a nation’. The showbiz industry is giving a negative message to the world.  Photoshop is one of them.  Making a celebrity look flawless is fooling the world into thinking we must look like that.  Spending so much money on clothes, hair etc. but we don’t need to focus on that because all that matters is on the inside, which most people don’t seem to see anymore.  We are constantly getting the messages in our mind that we must be flawless, and sooner or later, this is a disease.  Some of us can’t take it anymore, which leads to anorexia, bulimia, insecurities, and issues with body image.  Pain also takes over our minds, which is ridiculous.  Even celebrities have gone through this because in our naïve little minds, we are thinking we have to be pretty.  There is so much pressure it takes over our minds, and that’s the only thing we think about.  We look into the mirror despising ourselves, because we are who we are.  Society has created us into thinking there’s a certain way we must look, which there is not.  Our flaws make us who we are, makes us positively different.  Unique.  But we aren’t allowed to think that way because the media isn’t allowing us to.  When people change, they are only cheating on themselves because media displays images of what we should and shouldn’t look like.  It’s not their fault though.  They can’t help it.  Changing, like getting botox or body implant is only giving us a masquerade.  It’s a mask to hide our real, inner beauty, which the media has taken the idea away from us, to become people who we actually aren’t.
And in the end, we know that pretty hurts.
a.a.
this probably ******
Irate Watcher Sep 2014
The router's a strobe light;
I can't connect.
The microwave fritzed,
I can't heat.
The circuit shut;
guess no electricity.
Ayo no technology.
Let's talk ancient
philosophy,
NOT whether
Beyonce is a feminist.
Let's have a bonfire
and roast meat
cause none of us
were vegan
before this.
Let's light candles
in the streets.
Pray batteries die
on LCD screens.
Cause we were alchemists
before technology,
the versed probing
the multiverse,
thrilled,
lighting our golden
embroidery on life.
Now were just bored.
Coy toys to tied strings,
webs that touch
everything,
but the space between.
Declaring Sunday a sabbatical from LCD screens.
Fly Vida Sep 2011
Dear Beyonce, I love you, but I loved your thighs more. They gave me a reason to believe my thighs were just fine. I believed that they were worth the time it took to get my jeans on or trouble when I found a dress that fit the rest of me perfectly, but finding another because my thighs were making it too short. I was under the impression that the pressure on his lap from my thighs was just fine and that if he couldn't handle them, he couldn't handle me.
My thighs were supported by calves that were the pillars that support my *** that is almost too much for the eyes to handle.  It was okay that my thighs jigged cause my muscles were chiseled from my *** to my heels when I walked in a pair of heels, revealing marble stone that Greek statues envied.
Where did they go?
Now I'm told that I have to cover them from the summer sun and they can't wade in waves the crash on them when I stand in water that's just below my waist. They can't be mimicked by a pair of jeans or matched exactly by a pair of leggings. They have to be lonely and never be reminded of one another's presence because they can get lost with increased degrees of separation.
But I will not eat the lies that media, airbrush, needles, and people feed me. My legs have walked a thousand miles and have carried others along the way. I will not doubt them because they have never failed me.
I think I've made my decision. Thank you.
Ivan Brooks Sr Aug 2018
African woman
Mother of civilization.
Oh beautiful woman,
Thou are beyond description.

African woman
Queen of the people of Mamba.
Jambo to all those in heaven
Bless you too my dear mama.

African woman
Royal Nubian Queen.
The backbone of her man
You'll do anything to help him win.

Single Black woman
Made of broken pieces
You're the breadwinner,Superwoman.
You're the symbol of strength in all places.

African woman
Daughter of Eve's.
Thou are God's true specimen,
And the apple of his eyes.

Black woman
Daughter of Africa.
Blueprint of a **** woman,
Dark hue of coffee arabica.

African woman
Mother of humanity
Chieftess of ancient Nyngoman,
Mama Africa's bounty.

African woman
My Mandingo bride.
First woman of Africa's Eden
Center of God's black tribe.

Nigerian woman
My Yoruba Queen.
Envied by the women of Oman,
Cafe ou lair, cream of Africa's cream!

Warrior woman,
Queen of Wakanda.
Come and flip your wand,
Find the soul of Sarafina.

Curvy woman
In your womb lies Africa's future.
My Lormah woman
Oyobuays marvels at your structure.

Beautiful woman,
Perpetual envy of the silicon woman.
Pride of the Black man,
The essence of a real woman.

Indigo Woman
Lillies of the African plains.
Thou are Eve of the African Eden,
Best of the portraits that nature paints.

Voluptous woman,
Full, thick natural lips.
Real assert of the Black woman,
Nature gets aroused by your hips.

Ellen Sirleaf, today's woman,
Africa's first female president.
A Liberian woman,
Loved and revered wherever she went.

Smile ,Gambian woman,
You're daughter of Sarakunda.
Roots of the Black American woman,
Captives of the kanda Bolinga.

South African woman
Mariam Makeba
Sang for freedom and fought like a man
You were truly Soweto's finest Deva.

Dark ebony woman,
You are red, yellow and green.
Hanmatan wind stops at your command,
Born to slay and be seen.

African woman
Thou are the only reason
God put Adam in a coma.
Your perpetual beauty transcends time and Season.

African woman,
Under your cleavage, the Nile flows
And between your fingers, golden threads are woven,
You are the reason Beyonce glows.

Harriet Tubman, brave woman
Smuggled slaves underground.
She was a freed Black slave woman,
Who avowed to leave no soul behind.

Creative woman
Maya Angelou, gifted poetess.
Famous writer and a Black woman
Will be remembered for her poetic prowess.

Native African woman,
Africa's limestone and cement.
A mother, a wife, virtuous woman,
Lioness and the spine of the continent.

Liberian woman
Roots of my poetry, you gave me life
You are every woman.
Your edges are sharper than the Sumarais knife.



#IvanBrookspoetry©
13/8/2018
For mama and all the black Queens.
if i was a pearl i’d feel itchy scratchy stuck inside an oyster shell if i was a tree i’d  be a big fat redwood fantasizing about Julia Butterfly Hill living and peeing around me if i was a dog i’d be a Catahoula hound if i was Italian i’d be Sicilian if i was pasta i’d be spaghetti if i was Icelandic i’d be Bjork if i was a rock star i’d be Elvis Presley Bob Dylan Jimi Hendrix Jim Morrison John Lennon Bruce Spingsteen Maynard James Keenan if i was i writer i’d be Herman Melville Mark Twain James Joyce William Faulkner Thomas Bernhard Yukio Mishima Naguib Mahfouz Phillip K. **** Gabriel Garcia Marquez Annie Proulx Lydia Davis if i was a poet i’d be Walt Whitman Sylvia Plath Ted Hughes Gwendolyn Brooks Pablo Neruda  Heather McHugh Carl Sandburg Robert Frost Arthur Rimbaud Dante Alighieri Homer if i was a painter i’d be Leonardo Da Vinci Michelangelo da Caravaggio Johan Vermeer Rembrandt van Rijn Paul Cezanne Marcel Duchamp Jackson ******* Mark Rothko Ad Reinhardt Anselm Kiefer Susan Rothenberg if i was a photographer i’d be Man Ray Ansel Adams Edward Weston Diane Arbus Robert Mapplethorpe Sally Mann Helmut Newton Richard Avedon Annie Leibovitz if i was a philosopher i’d be Socrates Plato Aristotle Jean Jacques Rousseau Sören Kierkegaard Immanuel Kant Karl Marx Georg Hegel Friedrich Nietzsche Henry David Thoreau Ralph Waldo Emerson  Jean-Paul Sartre Jean Baudrillard Michel Foucault if i was a singer i’d be Woody Guthrie Otis Redding Grace Slick Bob Marley Joni Mitchell Marvin Gaye Johnny Cash Patsy Cline June Carter Patti Smith Chrissie Hinde Nick Cave P J Harvey Beyonce if i wa a band i’d be Velvet Underground Ramones *** Pistols Clash Cure Smiths Joy Division Uncle Tupelo Pixies Nirvana Nine Inch Nails Madrugada Sigur Ros White Stripes Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra Justice of the Unicorns if i was a boot i’d be Chippewa Frye Ariat Red Wing Tony Lama Wellington if i was a shoe i’d be Christian Louboutin Jimmy Choo Kedds Chaco Chuck Taylor p f flyer if i was a dress i’d be Channel Dolce & Gabbanna Giorgio Armani Marc Jacobs Comme des Garçons if i was a cowboy shirt i’d be H bar C Rockmount Temp Tex Karman Wrangler Levis Strauss Lee if i was a hat i’d be a Stetson Borsalino Stephen Jones if i was a fruit i’d be a mango apple banana blackberry if i was an scent i’d smell like fresh perspiration jasmine sandalwood ylang ylang the ocean if i was a doctor i’d be a gynecologist neurosurgeon if i was a flower i’d be a hibiscus rose orchard if i was a stone i’d be a sparkling ruby diamond opal if i was a knife i’d be a k-bar switch-blade machete if i was a gun i’d be a Remington Winchester Beretta Glock AK-47 if i was a car i’d be a Lamborghini Ferrari BMW Saab Volkswagen GTO Ford Mustang Dodge Challenger if i was a  TV show i’d be Law and Order if i was actor i’d be Charlie Chaplin Humphrey Bogart Steve McQueen Robert De Niro Ed Norton Shawn Penn if i was an actress i’d be Marlene Dietrich Ingrid Bergman Natalie Wood Audrey Hepburn Marilyn Monroe Helen Mirren  Meryil Streep Brigette Fonda Robin Wright Julianne Moore Angie Harmon if i was a female comedian i’d be Gilda Radner Lily Tomlin Nora Dunn Joan Cusack Sarah Silverman Tina Fey if i was a  football player i’d be Sid Luckman George Blanda Walter Payton **** Butkus Mike Singletary Joe Montana Jerry Rice Payton Manning LaDanian Tomlinson  Drew Breeze if i was a celebrity i’d be Charlotte Gainsbourg if i was a rapper i’d be Tupac Shakur if i was a movie director i’d be Sam Peckinpah Robert Altman Stanley Kubrick Roman Polanski Werner Herzog Rainer Fassbinder Louis Bunuel Alfred Hitchcock Jean-Luc Godard François Truffaut if i was a bird i’d be a eagle hawk sparrow bluebird if i was a fish i’d be a dolphin shark narwhal Charlie the tuna if i was breakfast i’d be a French toast pancake folded in half with 2 strips of bacon in between if i was a cold cereal i’d be snap crackle popping rice crispies shredded wheat cheerios oatmeal if i was tea i’d be Japanese green matcha Irish breakfast Tulsi Thai holy basil Lapsang souchong Luzianne Lipton if i was a soap i’d be French hand milled ayurvedic Avon Ivory Dove Pears Aveda  if i was a man i’d be a football basketball baseball tennis swimmer athlete if i was a woman i’d be a track star runner writer painter gardener doctor nurse yoga mom i'm just scratching the surface and the beat goes on lahdy dah dah
he makes me feel like beyonce,
volumptous and wanted,
like he'd wanna be the blanket to hold all my curves.
and he takes control when im too nervous to even breathe,
and my backs to him but i dont feel the need to look behind me to see if he'll catch up because he... he's already there
he holds me tender,
and sometimes he grasps like his afraid id leave him, almost like i could slip through his arms.
i poke fun at the gentle men tendicies he attributes to his mum,

sometimes though i wonder if i can trust him
i wonder if he s real
and maybe im just used to the more rough around the edges, fake it till you can take it,  and when you got it drop it -love con artists that steal away moments of your life like bites
off your aorta
But you're smooth babe and rounded fitting into all my weird niches
Aaron LaLux Aug 2016
(written backstage after Beyoncé final Formation Tour EU Show)

Gold Bottles

Flew into Barcelona,
en route to Portugal,
after two weeks in Budapest,
and one week in Milan,

Milan was for a lover,
Budapest was to relax,
Portugal is business,
and Barcelona was for fate,

had no idea Beyonce was performing,
her last show of the Formation tour,
so I went to her show after the Picasso museum,
walked right in no need for a pass,

went on stage,
watched the show,
got off the stage,
and said hi to Jay,

Jay Z was popping’ gold bottles,
yeah you know Ace of Spades,
and yeah I know,
that might sound a little cliche,

but hey,

it is what it is,
and I am what I am,
Jay had his classic Yankee Blue colors on,
I was wearing my tattoos,

the music had been so loud,
everything seemed so loud,
inside    and    out,
please pass me the champagne,

grasp,
the glass,
and,
sip…

Life’s such a trip,
I’m not even sure it’s real,
it’s like I went to sleep when I was a teenager,
and I woke up in my dreams,

I swear,
I could wake up tomorrow,
this could all be gone,
and I wouldn’t even be surprised,

in fact,
one day I will wake up tomorrow,
and this will all be gone,
and I will not at be at all surprised,

for now though,
I’m wide awake in this American dream,
and I can feel everything except for myself,
I eat but I’m not hungry I drink but I’m not thirsty,

sure I’ll drink that champagne,
Ace of Spades what a name,
maybe then I’ll be able to feel something,
maybe then I’ll be able to feel like this is real,

right,
now,
I,
slip…

Away from myself,
away from Jay Z,
away from all the eyes and attention,
away    from    this….

This silence,
seems so loud,
it screams so loud,
I’m tearing at the seams I bow,

trying to bow out gracefully,
exit stage left exit stage left,
where is my family where are my friends,
why is this silence all I have left,

left,
on a flight,
from Budapest,
to Barcelona,

Budapest was thermal paths,
and Eastern European women,

Barcelona was Beyonce,
Jay Z and gold bottles,
I’ve gotta to get to sleep soon,
got a flight to Portugal tomorrow,

got,
to,
get,
some sleep,

some time,
I don’t know who I am,
I just know I am not mine,

will touch down in Lisbon,
and be picked up right there,
taken on another tour,
no one said life was quite fair,

no fairy tale endings in the dragon’s lair,

where,
were we,
it seems we’ve gotten off track,
where,
was I,
somewhere with full bags and no place to unpack,

where do you go,
when you’ve gone everywhere else,
where do you find your silence,
how do you fill that void inside yourself,

somebody help,

I’m on a constant worldwide tour,
and everyone thinks it’s great,
people want to take my time and my attention,
but I don’t have the patience and I really hate to wait,

so before I’m even really here,
I’m already gone again,
and all that’s left are these words,
in the form of poems that I send,

like a message in a bottle,
I send from this island across the seas to you,
platinum plaques and gold bottles,
First Class seat I don’t deserve this it’s unbelievable,

flew into Barcelona,
en route to Portugal,
after two weeks in Budapest,
and one week in Milan,

Milan was for a lover,
Budapest was to relax,
Portugal is business,
and Barcelona was for fate…

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆
The Poetry Trilogy

author of The Poetry Trilogy
author of The Hollywood Trilogy
author of The Holy Trilogy



and here's some totally free music as well:
https://soundcloud.com/americandreamin/aaron-lux-truth-live-sky-tower

#beyonce #jayz #formation #poetryforever #thepowerofwords
#barcelona #formationtour #worldtour #hiphoppoetry #thelife ∆
it wasn\t a fear of losing out working outside
the stadium
like a silver horse
wizened
and not a football safe atmosphere
of inside violence
and hate but beyond football
the old tribes of europe still walk from door to door

and now looking into
the repertoire of Beyonce on my own
the day after i drank a little bit too much
and what did Martin do when
he lived with him mumma
and i wonder why did he do what he did
that philosophical explosion of the mind
and thus in the body dwarfed
a state that only Death and call Nirvana...
while i'm travelling home
and on the way i picked up my father's fathers' fathers
bones
and i could not hear the music
because there was like an external overtone
to the live music: there was the American Anthem
medley breaking in
because i just didn't like Renaissance but
i tell you Cowboy Carter is a testament
of a solid artist,
and i'm pretty sure Martin retired working
in security
really lazy work
i think if he only thought of that work life path
and life of mine will go on
i will write about and bridge the distance between
river and the prism of the surf
greeting earth
like fire greeting air...
being able to breathe
but also rock that breathed....
and even cooler oh right covers covers
weaving a new breed of music
musicians making music listening to music
like poets writing poetry
after reading poetry
                              all my internal misery
i sometimes think about breaking into
tears spontaneously
away tearing away from everything sober
and sane
because it seems there's no longer a god
to be sought
      but a friend unto my self: in the distance
dot of ego somewhere in the matrix of god
like the search engine Caesar...

because there was the drudgery of work
but all that human interaction
from a para-police or something
how there are rules to the roads
and to places where people congregate to celebrate
now i'm choking
with the words with the stink of these pages
i need to find a point to relax
yes
a much better concert
i didn't miss out i worked a beyonce concert
as a steward before
i was quickly promoted to supervisor
without a SIA BADGE
which is the basic stage of going up
being promoted in a high-viz jacket
like it was anything but fixing the pipes
and the sewers in the end
with the grump of man
and all those riches elsewhere
or perhaps that memory PTSD
of Manchester
                                and the potential
i didn't miss much
i worked one concert on entry level
enjoying myself
with eagle eyes of the cctv movie...

well... it's clear...
Beyonce > Taylor Swift
i think that little miss R
could become a fan
when she grows up
maybe i should just play some Beyonce
on the radio over there
when doing something
like work
i didn't listen to any music when i was
working
i think that what stressed me out
the most
i think i was scary how i didn't listen
to any music
when i was there
               over on Kauai
like i didn't take that part of me over there
i think Grandma listened to music
the radio
but i mean we can't listen to Hawaiian
radio
we have to make our own radio
i wonder if Reyla could playlists
for us three
one mix tape with our favorite songs
and she could
but it just dawned on me i could have been
listening to music when doing
the plumbing
replacing the faucet
and working on the lanai
taking apart that massive cupboard
that just stood there haunting
but why didn't i listen to music when
doing those menial tasks
the menial medium of hands
and eyes and perhaps mind piercing
calm measured with a tanglement
of raw physical ****** or the frustration fruit
and now the GENIUS
RADIO INTERLUDE
RADIO INTERLUDE
then lightning a cigarette
a bit like when the Offspring
oh jeez i've been to the concert
and it was a perfect idea i was working so so hard
i was working working so hard
for the real honey i mean i need to get a--t-shirt
i'm a fan **** i'm a fan i'm a fan
oh **** me i'm a fan this album is like
me being 15 again listening to some prog rock
and wow i'm a fan

i was going to walk in on the concert
but then i got some good accoustic
outside
so i went and bought myself three hot spicy
wings and one thigh
and some mayo and ketchup with some dr pepper
on White Hart Lane....
Hart Lan... White Harts... Richmond F.C.
i would start Richmond F.C. (north) somewhere
in Enfield...                      just an imaginary
consumption
     but oh dear... there are 27 songs on the album

BODYGUARD is
my secret best song...
    i was the bodyguard or some sort of guard
but as a song... it's so pop it's so neu-pop
neu-pop amazing rhythm oh my god an ******
all these girls walking about but
i am now seeing with a filter of marriage
so just the groove of the urban jungle
a little mermaid event when Poseidon
comes to wrestle with Zeus over who has
the right to what season
Hades chose Winter
and where is Our Sister:           GAIA
there was Zeus Hades Poseidon and Gaia
because they had drawn the four
seasons between them
poseidon took spring and all the rains
to rain on zeus' summer parade at Wimbledon
joke... ******* on it...
the events of man in the warm months
unlike the winter months
where sports dominate our coping mechanism
with the banality of life
sports to survive in winter
but concerts in the summer
collectively: to keep ourselves sober and sane
and arriving at some point *****:
because the song bodyguard is just that...

well indeed it then becomes this gargantuan
realization that it's no longer a poem
but its own self i am only the tip of the fingers off of
because there's no more of that empty hurt
clearly a sharp focus because
i thought i told you i was bemused
by my pay raise without changing uniform
you know like i am a secret manager
a hands on
in security i think that the roles security
don't work hand in hand with the "underclass"
or the logistics men
i greatly respect
but i mean a mix of the two roles being the brawl
i can show you how i can work with objects
please don't put me in charge of response units
let me show you how strong i am
don't bring me into crab fights and ape farts
i don't like those emotions
but you get what i mean
i was working two matches in april
i worked one sitting back like a security supervisor
but second day i had a revelation
and incorporated parts of logistics into security
a joint role
                                 i know those guys probably
have records but i can't be too sure
so yeah point being
i took care of the arches and batteries
and the fencing...  
and today my idea came to fruition and i was thinking
about inverting the ratio of cueing queue
ing  
                           i'm sort of working for a contractor
let him become a sub-contractor on our books
we like working with him
he has good ideas and how to implement them
he has become a changed man
so i mean i can't explain the
up on my wages i was on $18
but now i'm working for $27 an hour...
i am working as a sub-contractor for Tottenham
and that contract was fought for on my behalf
by some manager at the company the other company
i'm working with:
like just please explain it
why i am "working for tottenham"
but actually working for a different company
it would seem but thanks to them
i must have got that raise and no one even told
me about it... but it's easy math
for 10h i am getting $270:
they are those kind of hours
but that's sporadic
like 4 times in only a certain month
whether june july or august
depending on how the concert season operates
but couldn't you possibly be told about a pay rise
no one tells you?
but you see it on paper              hmm:
could it be that pay rises
well this is my first
that's covertly in my hand and wallet
i wonder
                                   because prior to whenever
i got a pay rise it was only a numbers game
so not really of the matter
and told: oh just a little pay rise... either $2 or $1 or $3
per hour depending on "qualification"
an SIA license costs around $1000 so get a $1
pay rise...
but                an NVQ certificate
    well... that's a pay rise of $2-$4 and sometimes
even $7 i was once a quadrant manager
     at Wembley                 and i think i worked for $21
but that was a one off and someone called off
an hour before the event and i was pushed into
it...                                      but that was like speedy
gonzee and Gonzo journalism as they call it

because i don't think i ever wrote poetry about work
and working and money
and a literary realism beyond prior known about
the nature of work and how writing is yet more work
and in that work there can be work
that has nothing worth containing art poetry and learning
language
                            away from children
but indeed Bukowski               about but merely licked
the topic
                      but maybe it was that sort
of time and that sort of work like being a postman
but i can't imagine being a postman today
unlike say captains of container ships travelling
across the seas
    or those strapped to lighthouses and madness
                 but of work it can be said:
that...                                                  wh­at
a strange eerie and stranger forest
    inscribed in it the words arbeit macht frei....
                               this album is illicitly making this
allusion in its grandeur...

SPAGHETTI
         SPAGHETTI              oh yes: this is where
it came from the African-American
lets face it whenever European came walked hand
and chain to the African
                            at some point there were
kings and queen of europe and africa
but how many monarchies are still in africa?
Morocco Eswatini (Swaziland, formerly known)
                                 Lesotho
and all that African-American energy of a woman
just a specific woman like her
in the voice and rhythm
yeah                                           so much appeal
i remember being asked by a friend in our early
20s why didn't taylor swift type
tiny girl
had no feminine vibe i understood i could
have translated
i have stuff to do tomorrow so i am not going
to lounge around:
i can't just stay at home:
i'll probably just go out walking so i spend more time
outside the house
but only because i have an aversion
to cycling
because i remember dreaming of thinking
that using your legs for swimming would
be the same as the very cerebral experience
of driving a manual car
i mean:
it seems like an ancient art these days
maybe that's why i waited so long with my driving license!
maybe that's the secret why i waited so long
so long to get a driving license!
to have enough drivers out there only being
able to drive automatic cars
and here i am                    a manual driver
i get the feel of a manual car
and it's so amazing it's a drug
i mean it's a drug when you get it just right
and try to pretend the driving instructor
is sitting there with you
   when you just get the gears in proper motion
and you get to feel the car like
you might a super horse
and how different
the horses used to be steered using our heels
but now we have horse or rather the four horses
and duck feet... flat under the fingers
the positioning of the feet on the three blunts
is like prepping your hands for QWERTY of able to
look at screen and not at the keyboard
seeing the words and not really the letters
seeing the words but not really the letters...
and here's to giving up smoking again
maybe this time for real
i think i can do that
if i can stage such a good shift
i mean i felt i was central
and the manager worked with me
and sort of taught me so maybe next time
i will have that spot outside the Coliseum
truly that can be a yay moment

                            thought it was Miley Cyrus
but didn't want to say it
so a duet it is and                how many words can
drop in between songs and thinking
about the breaks thinking about the breaks
recovering from all that:
but if i could focus on work yesterday
so the excesses i could find in Manchester If
a crazed testimony of hero could
have been so a downer on the poetry unless it
became more and more obscure
for that too is very relevant: because of
shotgun shotgun
being a downer
   a real downer of a song

SHOTGUN < skipped skipped never
to be found on rewind
                                  back to the theme of cougar
cowgirl and cowboy
but i was in the role of actor in a role
                         because i don't think i was an actor
because no one seemed authentic
but rather prolific                               rxage
                                    solid ink of naked rage: in a cage
some return to form with the lyrics Levi Jeans
i think that's how the song goes
but i didn't fall in the garden i just kicked the light off
i didn't drink to the point of not remembering
if i fell into the trees and breaking them:
no, i kept form because i knew i would have to
write
oh boy boy
Beyonce can admire a former older singer
but all her duets with women are ugly
but when beyonce does a duet with a male
oh boy boy all the best of her comes out
but i didn't get the older sister vibe
                              with                        "Meryl­ Streep"
(look-alike)
                
              maybe an hour has passed
and in it
                                              all that is contained in an
album
        i wonder how the album translated into
a live performance with a meddley
of past youthful kick-starters
the youthful pop anthems that would be
only crowd and radio pleasers
but then the personal experience of Beyonce's
music: with actual knowledge of entire
albums... the gem of flamenco
i don't know because that voice range
is from a classical education
it must be:
funny fact: most musicians in Poland have
had a musical education
or at least did in the past
not all but a large majority
(if not factually correct
then i'm thinking of Sting and some band
from Poland)
like Myslovitz or something like that....

oh YA YA and this is still the same album?
was this a double album?
tomorrow i'm going to the bank
and i'm going to the music shop and
sobering up and finding happiness in life
trying to maybe think
about buying a cheap car
i mean i have an NPKK number
so someone can check my file
well: and my provisional i think maybe
buying a really cheap car
but then the process getting insurance
oh jeez:
there's that aspect of owning a car
oh crap... it's not just about the driving
it's about the maintaining oh man
and feeling like:
jeez... she's talking about getting a new
car oh jeez i now see it really
oh i see it
but honestly that's it i can't have those
days off i will have to think of something
to do
i mean yes
talking about it but what sort of job
is out there that might allow me to work in patchwork
i wonder
but this can't be the one album must be a double-breaker
double-deck-er
                                      at least in my
mind's eye the sun is shining on the corridor
in my house
oh louisiana i don't know how else to describe
the sensation as an idea on the album:
this is a beyond concept album this is unlike
anything i've ever heard
and i'm pretty sure: it must be under 2h and i wonder
if she followed the album live
                               i'm waiting for the song
this lady talked about and jiggled to when she overheard
it coming from the stadium:
from atop: down down down              i'm \
"creamy in the middle"
                                      doxy
doxi                                                 then onto
RIVERDANCE
                                         oh what an open world
out there when you give yourself some focus
and say: yes i will give up smoking and drinking
yes
the combination can only be like this
a remedy prescribed not a tool to sleep
they only allow me to deep sleep in excess and
in return i get also short pointless nights
so there is good use remedy
or to tear open in celebration
                                    because you get the best
night's sleep when in the same bed
with her
                                and that was very
healthy and i can't really excuse:
                                               but yes:
if that person doesn't become contained then
you get paranoid eyes
you think because it's so easy isn't not going your
own way and giving away time
to pointless poetry
                                         because i no longer....
let me save and observe the concept of time
7:38pm and
i think i started at around 6:30pm but i can't be sure:
i simply made myself coffee and

.............................................................
i­n..........................................................
te...­................................................r......
l........­...................u...............d.............e

.............­................................................
...........s....­..........ee..............m..............
...........s...........­.....................................
l..........................­............................egit

(II hands
   II heaven)
                                           praises o praises
perhaps making my peace with jesus
i think she wants that the most from me
that i have to make my peace with jesus
but i can't imagine being a convert to christianity
away from catholicism
i know that Catholicism isn't any sort
of Christian denomination in America
on whatever the scale is and not organised
i think that's where we are conflated
in that realm of life
                                                  
tyrant
sweet honey buckin'
amen

                                        a poem written in the time
it takes to listen to Cowboy Carter
the full album
                                   a poem of that kind that sort
i don't think anyone has yet written a poem realistic to
the time it takes to listen to Cowboy Carter
i don't think music was referenced like that
tyrant tyrant
                             is she singing about her drinking habits?
i wonder i think
sort of cougar rapper              a cougar rapper
she sounds so much better with age
i think that there are women like that who
become better with age
and **** at least i need to think about August
because August is going to be completely empty
so i can have my two months of summer
like pretend boy
                             but what if i buy a car in poland
and drive across Europe?oh jeez... didn't think
about it... that would be proof of my self
i think i will need to think like that...
travel across Europe...
from Poland
i would only miss 4 concerts
but i wouldn't because i would have to drive
back
and i would need a phone plan
maybe cheaper
                   with calls abroad... from Poland
i don't know i'm thinking i need to plan
ahead i'm not thinking about a writing career
in the bedroom i finally get it
but that's realistic if i had to cancels
but when i will actually know about
the pay raise? on the 15th of July
i will know about the pay rise on the 15th of July
i don't know yet
i think they made a mistake or something
why i was paid more:
is that how working in large companies works
like under communism
no one knew what they were earning
some people earned more
                                 the misconception that
there was a standard wage for all
kind of jobs...
would be stupid
                                             a nightmare of stupid...
but true:
                   that would be money well spent?
a car in Poland?
       what a wild idea...        a young boy dream
i think and the idea of passing past Amsterdam and
staying there: some wild fancy dream
not for me some youthful daydream....

buckin'
buckin'                          buckin'
                                      buckin'

at least a Sunday saved
Amen...

                                    go to the bank
ask them how you're paying off your credit card
whether it's debited from your account
immediately after the date
i will give up smoking but i will also have another
coffee
and i have to get rid off the idea that i would
get me 2 more bottles of cider
now i have a sense of hope:
i now have a sense of hope with Amen and it's
a song that sort of repels the whole album
a thank you to god
most certainly: and having completed an album
oh the joy with Religion
and wow...
                                        Oh jesus indeed when
because to say his name
jesus - after having appreciated some sort of art
like an album: ends with the sound of a drop of water...
p[ing! the end...

                    amazing.
Cedric McClester Feb 2016
By: Cedric McClester

Tell ‘em how you feel
Keep it real
Ya know the deal
Never mind mass appeal
Man your battle station
Get in formation
Tell the nation
You’re losing patience

The Black Panthers
Wanted answers
Now exotic dancers
Take their stances
And behold
They broke the mold
When the story was told
At the Super Bowl

Gimme,  gimme
That shake and shimmy
Hotter than a chimney
In Papua New Guinea
Cuz no judgment’s passed
When you just shake that ***
Instead they raise a glass
And give you a free pass

Now they dissect you
Take it to the press too
Then refuse to protect you
FOI to the rescue
Long as you speak your mind
They can be unkind
But they can’t take your shine
Beyonce it’s your time





Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016.  All rights reserved.
Riot May 2014
plastic smiles and denial can only take you so far
*but then you break when the fake facade leaves You in the dark
And each one reminds me of you.
I think you had me at hello.
Anna Jan 2015
My dad says that my generation lacks common sense,
but millennials are well on our way to being
the most educated generation
ever.

We're demonized for idolizing Beyonce' and Nicki Minaj,
but wasn't the generation before us
obsessed with a ******-addicted cynic
who did nothing to improve the world?

The number of people with
eating disorders,
depression,
and anxiety
are higher than they've ever been.
But lord forbid we take a ******* selfie
and love ourselves for that brief moment.

My generation may not be perfect,
but old people's complaints about us
are getting really old.
After all, they're the ones
that ****** everything up for us
in the first place.
baby boomers and gen x's are the ones with the real problems tbh
Trevon Haywood Dec 2016
This past year was a ******
Looking back, it kinda makes me wonder
How it came and went and **** near took everyone under
Its crazy out here and even though it was tough
I'ma run it back, this is 2016 Rap Up

Denver won the Super Bowl, Cam came up short
Leo got his Oscar and El Chapo got caught
They got mosquitoes with the Zika, so don't get bit
Peyton and Kobe Bryant both called it quits
I gotta admit, Fam, I get mad as ****
When I swipe my card and they say "No, You gotta use your chip"
**** Daniel, "Hamilton" was lit
Who let Kanye West get 53 million in debt?
And Rihanna went to work without taking a pause
ISIS popping and y'all worried about bathroom laws?!?
Come on, fam
How that sound?
So we out here standing up
Just so y'all can sit down?
Warriors went on a streak and then they got served
Panda was a hit and we couldn't understand the words
Huh, and Khaled kept snapping
These youngins keep mumbling
I guess y'all call that rapping
I've seen "Stranger Things", come on dude
Y'all out here shooting gorillas and punching kangaroos
Janet Jackson pregnant at 50, dog
So for you ol' broads, there might be some hope for y'all
I ain't throwing shade, it ain't that deep
**** I don't want nobody out here ******* with me in these streets
Then Birdman ran up on Charlamagne
And Lil' Wayne still not 'puttin' respect on his name'
Michael left Kelly trying to get paid
But the world stopped when Beyonce dropped Lemonade
She slayed, and over-shared
And ya'll still trying to find out about 'Becky with the good hair.'
As far as questions, I got one
"Hey Hov and B, is y'all finished or is y'all done?"
Son, I don't know if it was fake
I know KD did the running man challenge all the way to Golden State
The whole year made no sense
Dog, we live in a world without Muhammad Ali and no Prince
Then Gucci came home
And he looked so different y'all was like, "naw, that's got to be a clone"
Y'all was glued to y'all phones
And LeBron got it done for the Cavs and brought the chip back home
Snapchatting all over the place
I swear to God, if I see one more girl with a dog on her face
It was a sad year for sure
Instead of being woke though
Y'all wanted to play Pokemon Go!
And rap got weird, should we be concerned?
Young **** in a dress, Yung Joc got a perm
And everybody was in the Presidential race
Ryan Lochte, Oh he gets the Michael Phelps' face
Game and Meek beefing, Hillary and Trump
Kap took a knee, T.I., Brad Pitt got dumped
And Trump said he going to build a wall on the border
Ya'll will probably go to flip bottles water
The snow storm had the East underground
The kept shooting black men but wouldn't shoot killer clowns
They kept telling us to use our voices
Knowing **** well they ain't really give us no choices
Get an iPhone with no headphone cord
Or get a Galaxy and go and meet the Lord
See they go low, and we go high
You only got two friends. Why you trying to go Live?
I'ma miss the Obamas, I don't wanna see them go
My prayers to everyone that we lost in Orlando
The Oscars were so white they had to get Chris Rock
And the album of the year had to be Anderson.Paak
Cubs finally Won, Usain was on fire
Melania Trump hired the wrong ghostwriter
I'm petty with the manners
'Cuz I think Kim K. got robbed by Joanne the Scammer
Ooouuu
Biters keep testin' me
They making rappers, but they ain't got the recipe
Huh, Yeah that's facts
Shout to Young M.A. for bringing New York back
And I hear y'all talking about "Kanye is fine"
Well to us it look like Kanye done lost his mind
Cowboys kept ballin', them boys in the zone
Bryson Tiller came along, kept telling us "Don't"
I'm highly favored
I clap back on my haters
I be the beans, greens, potatoes, tomatoes
The mannequin challenge, oh, that's how y'all feel?
The World moving dog, we can't just stand still
Beyonce made sure y'all got in formation
One time for Phife Dawg from the Zulu Nation
Did Drake bag J.Lo? I say kinda
But y'all was all up in arms over Rob and Chyna
And that's a new level of female pimping
Biggest L of the year goes to Hillary Clinton
You ask me, man, I thought she had it made
You ask me now, ****, I think we all got played
Another sign of the times
And now the whole World laughing at us, sounding like ChewbaccaMom
2016 was a bully and a punk
On top of that, now we gotta deal with Donald Trump?
Pardon me, as I vent
Bro, we made a reality star the President
And that just makes me sick
Talking about, "We gotta give him a chance." Naw
I ain't got to give him ****
It's going to be hard to cope
Because you can't have progress, dog, if you don't have hope
More pros, less rookies
And if America's ours, how we let it get grabbed by the *****?
They say I sound mad, off the cuff
Oh, I sound mad? Y'all don't sound mad enough
So from here on out, we gotta set the tone
Y'all protect yourself and protect your own
And way too many people got called back home
2016 you can go, and I'm glad you're gone
Felt like a long bad dream
I'm wishing you love and life, Welcome to 2017.

Skillz 12/31/2016.
jeffrey robin Dec 2010
poisoned love
subliminal

images that enslave

ah!

there you are

----------

watching ***** children
dance with celebs
instead of stars!

-----

beyonce the beyonce!

----------

sasha fiercly free!

--------

are we
really only

stupid twits?

----------

poisoned country

beyond the beyouncing
booberoos

poisoned minds

(speaking

subliminally)
effaced Jan 2015
a
song
i
will
never
be
able
to
love
again...
Love ruined my favorite song...
Deep Thought Feb 2017
Things are quite rocky in today's world wouldn't you say?
Hate is growing stronger, as a consequence love is waxing cold day by day.
Celebrities are securing riches while the rest of the world succumbs into sickness.

Everyday Americans are going into foreclosure, others can't obtain jobs to pay their monthly dues. There's even a battle on the news based on who has the right to use a particular bathroom. Simultaneously there's millions of homeless people starving and sleeping on the streets.

Meanwhile it's breaking news that Beyonce is having twins!
Still, we never hear CNN mention the pedophiles that were arrested in California. Which resulted in 450+ arrests and counting, the veil has been lifted if you have open eyes to look.


There, there you can go back to sleep now... Continue dreaming about Beyonce's twins.
... And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold.
Matthew 24:12
The
Decider-in-Chief
made
another
hard
decision,
rebebilitatin
a debilitating
Gaddafi.

The
Agog
Decider
sleekly
peeked
into the
bleak
soul
of the
master
Bedouin.

The
Pious
Decider
peered
pretty
deeply,
so its
hard to tell
what his
arcane
rebelations
revealed.

Some say
The
Jaundiced
Decider,
saw the
desert
bleeding
deliciously
malicious
sweet crude
onto the
scabby
tongues
of
Halliburton
Executives
while
Big Time
Vice
Dickey Boy
******
a petrol
nozzle
dry,
licking
the dripped
drops
that
drizzled
from the
shoot
hole,
so as
not to waste
a precious drop
to satiate
the black
viscous
goo
coursing
through
the ebony
veins of his
chingling
heart.

Others
say
The
Condoning
Decider
sized up
the man
and saw
a brother-in-arms
in the fight
against
The Evil Doers;
yet failed to
see the
revolting
obscenities
his new
comrade-in-arms
inflicted
upon his
own body
politic.

The
Forgetful
Decider,
blessed
with amnesia
forgot
Lockerbie and
applauded
BP's royal
court of
justice
for
pardoning
all perps.

The
Oblivious
Decider's
near
sightedness
failed to
foresee
a brewing
blow-back
amassing
in the
desert
winging
its way
home
on the
blasting
sands of
a blistering
Saharan
sirocco.

The
Pollyannish
Decider
envisioned
g­rand
spectacles,
only happy
visions of
Beyonce,
JZ, Usher
and the
Def Jam
Buddha
Russell
Simmons
yodeling
filthy
lucre
tunes,
sending
g­iggling
tweets
while
partying
down
with
Muammar's
posse
of martinets
and
way cool
far out
crazy
execs
drunk
with the
power
that blinds
the eye to
all discernment.

The Decider
decides.

Music Selection:
Lady Ga Ga
Beyonce,
Telephone

Oakland
3/3/11
jbm
Ivan Brooks Sr Feb 2018
What's this phenomenon called love,
That remains a puzzle no one can solve?
Love is the caveat for many broken hearts,
And the byword for many gracious acts.
Love has the characteristics of a witch
And the coldness of a vindictive *****!

Love, the greatest of human emotions
Has many different variations.
The good book talks about agape love,
And Beyonce sings about drunken love.
Its nature nobody really understands
Yet men have worked with their hands and paid bride prices with cows.
Some have proposed to women at the super bowls.
And on talk shows, jumped on couches
leaving a few to walk on crutches.

Nobody knows love's true colors.
Yet many men have spent top dollars
To buy their women cars as gifts.
And later on, end up begging for lifts.
For love, Romeo committed suicide
And Juliet died right by his side.

Love is very irresistible
And unpredictable.
Love has many dimensions
and many complications.
For love, many people have died
And much more has lied.
For love, knots have been tied
many bank accounts emptied,
For love, wars have been fought
And many Diamond rings bought.

Love is a wrecking ball
I call it an emotional hall.
For love, tears have been shed
by many in their lonely beds.
Love is a mystery
But the reality in my poetry.
It's a kinda game in most men lives,
A game played behind their wives.

So what do we know about love?
Is it peaceful as caged doves
Or dangerous as wild wolves?
Is it contagious as a disease,
Or rumpled as a crease?
Is it blind like brother Steve,
Or silent as a grave?
Is it deep like the ocean,
and beautiful like Heaven?
Love can at times be as cold as ice
And at times, twice as nice!

IvanBrooksPoetry©️
21/8/2018
Love has many definitions....what's yours?
Hayley Simpson Sep 2012
It's funny what you do to me, and I know funny.
I go up on stage and tell ****** jokes for a living,
           and look super bad *** while doing it.
But now you've got my *** terrified. Paranoid to breathe because I'm afraid it will be my last
          and you won't be there to see it.
Yes, it's cliche. But you do have me listening to love songs, you do have me putting on make up,
          you do have me running up mountains so I can have a body you can enjoy while we make-
          out in your car to Beyonce songs.
You once told me that I "was the more beautiful person to grace this Earth" but Lover, I see your
          grace in everything on this Earth.
And snow makes me smile because you like to ski and I'm from Canada so my face hurts
         frequently.
Trench mapped hands, a sign of how many battles you've fought and won, how many battles
         you've fought and lost, how many times you've picked yourself up off the dirt, smiled at me
         and said "I'm fine, are you okay?"
Honestly, I have no idea how the most flawed person in the world, a girl who leaves her wet
          towels everywhere, a girl who puts her keys in the same place but manages to forget where
          they are, a girl who plays Assassin's Creed for 3 hours without blinking and wears that like a
          proud Metal Of Honor, how can that girl make the most perfect person in the work happy?
Answer? I have no clue, but you don't have to cheat on any test, because I'll stay. As long as you
          want me to, I'll stay.
Here for you when you get weepy, or angry, or curious to see what we can do behind closed doors.
I won't say "I love you". Not because it's not true. Nothing could be more true. But if I say it, I'll cry,
           You'll kiss me, and I can't guarantee what will happen to our clothes after that.
So instead, I'll keep making the "that's what she said" jokes, until you're reminded of snow, or
            maps, or breathing.
And I have fallen so hard for you that stone boarders between countries couldn't stop your
           gravitational pull.
And like willow tree roots growing into shorelines, I get wetter every time you hold me.
So, I'll send you Steven King length facebook messages everyday.
I'll ring up my phone bill to $500.
Light candles for 3 hour skype dinners.
Because, long distance relationships are hard, but not being able to call you "mine" is excruciating.
Because, it's funny what you do to me.
Because, I love funny.
Performed at The Bowery Poetry Club (2012)

Author: This poem was written for my girlfriend while I was touring the States. It was the first poem I ever wrote for her and the first poem I ever performed in public.
At 8:30 this morning I was still hopeful. I still had a chance. It was possible. It was mine.

An hour later "We regret to inform you..."

An hour later it was over. the 4 months of waiting for absolutely nothing was over. "Excellent pool of candidates..."

I wondered if that made me less excellent. "highly competitive and qualified..."

Was I not qualified? I replayed my application over and over in my head and it sounded like it was mine.

"Oh, it was national" says my father.

Maybe I'm only qualified when it comes to Wisconsin, because the same thing happened to me at Regionals... Somewhere in America there is someone better equipped for your dream.

"We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors"
    Well, what if I have no luck left? What if I'm not excellent enough?

What if I'm not qualified enough?
What if I'm not deserving enough?

Then I look over my Journalism application. 120 spots.
120 qualified people out of a pool of who knows how many.
My morning made me feel unqualified as if there was a slim chance I could possibly obtain anything I truly wanted.

Then there's Beyonce and Jay-Z tickets everyone is raving about, but I'm in a stand still because I have **** I need to do. I have dreams that money actually can buy. So while everyone is raving about concert tickets,
I'm at a standstill wondering how in the hell will I afford to make my dreams come true when Beyonce could've made them happen 100 times over and then some...

Feeling unlucky, unwealthy, and under qualified

Then a friend tells me "cast your anxiety upon the lord"

Deep breath in.

Exhale. Something greater is coming my way.
I see Beauty in a *******,
Whose feelings you cannot convolute.
I see a Businesswoman in a *******,
A **** with brains, destitute
she made a business plan.
At least she did business studies and
accounting at school, sells her body to earn,
A living.
I see a princess in a *******,
because no man can resist her.
You know when she starts curling her hair
Even Pastors *******,
then we bring the Saints Holiness into debate.
Have you ever seen a ******* aspirate
"I want you" ?
****! Her voice alone gives ****** healing,
Arouses ****** feelings,
Pumps vessels, frightened by the spark in her
eyes, hormone adrenalin give your heart rate a
fast accelerating beatings.
I see charisma in a *******.
Married men,leave their wives in bed and
creep to the streets corner just to cuddle with
prostitutes, it was I who said, there's beauty in
a *******.
I see Beauty in a *******.
I've seen Loyalty in a *******,
Yes I did. How? What do I mean?
Because she ***** all men in the same manner
and charge them all the identical amount.
That is Loyalty man.
I said, I see Beauty in a ******* and
I wasn't lying.
There is Beauty in a *******,
The Beauty that makes Preachers at church
retire,
The Beauty that make married men divorce,
The Beauty that makes Jay Z forget Beyonce,
The Beauty that makes Julius Malema forgets
his political position
The Beauty that makes Jesus Christ want to
come back, to save his descendants from sin.
The Beauty of a *******,
Men have seen it.
Notes (optional)
Avery Greensmith Nov 2014
I. you don't even know who you are yet, but you still have to stand on top of buildings and scream what you stand for. people won't hear your values unless you write it on their skin and tattoo it into their minds, so that’s what you’ll do.

II. you aren't vain or stupid for idolizing singers with blonde hair and blue eyes, because they look like you, and yet they’re strong and beautiful. it’s okay when you connect to their music then you connect to your favorite boy band. they’ll teach you how your resident ******* means nothing compared to you. they’ll teach you how to winged eyeliner, and how to put your hair in a messy bun. they’ll teach you a new love for songwriting and you’ll probably want to start playing guitar, but the biggest thing is that you relate to them and they give you confidence.

III. wear your ******* choker and straighten your hair (or leave it wavy if you’d rather). wear your dark eyeliner and cover your eyelashes with mascara. if you want to wear blue knee high socks, please do. keep your hipster shoes untied if you want. ignore the ******* who thinks you look nice but not in the right way, and go buy that dark lipstick you've been wanting for weeks.

IV. don’t trust the people that tell you Taylor Swift has too many boyfriends, and that Beyonce dances too ******. they are the people that will criticize you for wearing a crop top and ripped jeans. they’ll pull you out of math class to change out of your short shorts, and you’ll be forced to watch as the boys you were ‘distracting’ succeed in class while you’re crying in the middle of the night trying to catch up.

V. take more pictures of the scenery. those pink clouds you thought were pretty deserve to be photographed, so do it. they won’t always be around and you have to follow your instincts sometimes.  stop taking so many pictures at concerts. they don’t really mean anything to you, and it’s more important to listen to the music that helps you breathe. cry when they sing your favorite song, and feel your dreams expanding as you watch.

VI. please take care of yourself. when you need help, ask for help, or everything will spiral out of control too quickly. get enough sleep and stick up for yourself when you’re being pushed down. stop caring what other people think, because you’re really the only one that matters. when you’re sad go do what makes you happy, because even if it doesn't make you grin from ear to ear it will help. always remember to love yourself before you let someone else love you.
NY Hip Hop
Gold Express
Bling Shop
Afro Brothers
proprietorship

buyin and sellin
filthy lucre
of down hard
Gat packin
Gangstas
on the down low
throwin down
fallin hook
line and stinker

just a bunch
of lil fishies
wigglin at the end
of golden chains

its all about
the bling baby
all about the bling

"I pity the fool"
saith Mr. T
the potentate of
soul and gold
who ain't
down with
the cool jewels
of righteous
B Teamers
arrested by
the silk rope
of glitzy discos
bribing bouncers
with an
earnest Jackson
to *** rush
the vanity faire
of bumping
A Listers

Or was it
Def Jam
Buddhas
minting
coin on
MTV?

exploiting
misogyny
and ghost
face killas
NWAs
slugging cases
of Kristol
blowing
fat spliff
smoke
up the *** of
Phat Farm
kids in
the hood
shooting
silver
bullets at
the man
takin baths
in tubs
of fifties
lighting up
with crisp
C Notes
rollin
through
life
in black
Escalades
its silver
spinners
twisting fast
round
corners
where
being cool
went blind
and
Coolie High
homies
still tip
a sip
for the
brothers
who ain't
there

Today
its all about
the raised fist
of power to
the P Diddy
fighting
the power
of the people
as leggy
Beyonce
warbles
songs
for the
posse
of a
Libyan
Dictator
whose
blood
money
pays
a cool
mil
cover
for a
New Years
Eve
tune

Its all about
the bling
baby

All about
the bling
baby, all
about the
bling.

NY Hip Hop
Gold Express
Best Prices in
Trenton Since
1997

You Tube Video:
Gil Scott Heron
Ain't No Such Thing As Superman

Trenton
2/25/11
jbm
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2013
Here are the names of my lovers,
The women I sleep with, whom
I use, like they use me.
Spent, they discard me, for when their pleasure needs
Satiated, they climb aboard another man.

What they do not know,
Is that in my mind, in my ears,
everywhere,
I did not let them, or you go,
We are still romping,
For I
Take them as needed.

I need them all,
For my pleasure needs, like my unshaped heart,
Addictive, endless.

If your is name is here, I do not
Apologize.

Pink
Adele
Lilly Allen
Anna Nalick
Bess Rogers
Beyonce
Brandi Carlisle
Cat Power
Colbie Callait
Duffy
Eva Cassidy
Evanescence
Alison Sudol
Fiona Apple
Florence Welch
Grace Potter
Ingrid Michaelson
You
Joni Mitchell
K.D. Lang
Kate Nash
Kate Voegele
Leona Lewis
Lizz Wright
Madeline Peyroux
Marie Digby
Mary Wells
Norah Jones
Regina Spektor
Sara Bareilles
You
Sara Haze
Taylor Swift and Tracy Chapman
Tristan Prettyman
Vanessa Carlton

So many others, used so long ago, I can't remember the faces,
Which can't be googled.

Use them hard, use them often, more than daily.
Bluntly, I tell you
Your name is on my list,
Even if I do not disclose it.
Courtesy of Mr. Howard.
"Madamina, il catalogo è questo
Delle belle che amò il padron mio;
un catalogo egli è che ** fatt'io;
Osservate, leggete con me."

"My lady, this is the catalog
Of the beauties loved by my master;
a list which I have compiled;
Observe, read along with me."

4/18/18 was hanging with sara b., and this popped up...
Jojo Oldham Dec 2012
If only you’d done the washing up
I wouldn’t be slamming plates into the sink
Half sobbing
Half seething
Stubbornly burning my hands on water that’s too hot
Angrily scrubbing at three day old tomato sauce
And bits of chips and jumbo sausage that have ?welded themselves to the plate

If only you’d done the washing up
We could have *** later
But we can’t now
Because I’ll be too tired and bitter after doing the washing up
Again
Do you think I like washing up?
Don’t you think I’d rather be sitting on the sofa
Watching crap on the telly
Safe in the knowledge that the sink is empty
The plughole is clean
And the worktops are sparkling
I bet Beyonce doesn’t have to do the washing up
I bet she has a dishwasher

If only you’d done the washing up
You wouldn’t need to call me childish
For getting worked up over something as silly as the washing up
And I wouldn’t be standing here wondering
If you’ll ever really get it
“It’s only the washing up” you say
Exactly
So just ****** well do it next time
*******
Chris Reed Aug 2018
Everybody knows today's figures.
Lincoln Park. Kanye West. Beyonce.
Musicians. Artists. They are all praised in today’s society.
But nobody knows the names of people who actually matter.

Willis Carrier. Invented the air conditioner.
Nobody knows his name.

Robert E. Kahn. Made the internet.
Nobody knows his name.

The problem with today’s society
Is that the minds of young people are being poisoned.
By the schools who leave things out of textbooks.
By the people on the street, screaming their views.
The riots, the protests, the hell of today.
Poisoning the minds of young people.

Reed Hastings. Marc Randolph. Nobody knows them
Yet millions of people use Netflix.

SalvinoD'Armate. Nobody knows his name.
Yet over 4 BILLION people wear eyeglasses.

Young people today hate history.
They think, “Why do we need to learn about dead people?”
George Santayana once said:
“Those who cannot remember the past, are condemned to repeat it.”
We learn these things, not to be bored in history class.
Not to just **** time in the day.
But to inspire. To help young people to become creative, more innovative.

Imagine a world, where Alexander Bell never made the telephone.
Imagine a world, where the internet, just wasn’t a thing.
Imagine a world, where nobody invented new things.

William Higginbotham. I Guarantee that nobody in this room knows his name.
He created the very first video game, Tennis for Two, in 1958.
Without him, we would not have the games we have today.
Assassin’s Creed. Grand Theft Auto. Call of Duty.
People play these games, and use the other things I’ve listed every single day,
And they use them without any thought, or appreciation for where they came from.
Or how far we have progressed as humans.

So I ask you this. Who invented the desk you are sitting on?
Who invented the jacket you’re wearing?
Who invented that pen in your pocket?
You don’t know, do you?
Anais Vionet Feb 2024
This was last Saturday night. We were at a rooftop party in downtown New Haven thrown by ‘DocHouse.’ Doc-House is kind of a frat-house, owned by Dr. Melon, where he and seven doctoral students live. My BF Peter lived there once - before he graduated and took a job in Geneva - that’s how I met Dr. Melon. I think Peter asked Melon to ‘keep an eye’ on me - because he texts me an invitation every week and people with multiple doctorates and doctoral students don’t usually hang with lowly undergraduates.

The invitation said ‘rooftop’ but we’re mostly on the third floor - not on the actual roof - because it’s about 39°f and windy out there tonight. The floor space was about seventy by a hundred feet, there were pillars but no walls. The space was lit by a million strings of white Christmas lights.

The party was packed and loud - so loud I was wearing ear plugs. Beach chairs and card tables were the furniture. There were foosball, pool and two ping-pong tables (one of those being used for "Beer Pong"). A karaoke machine patched into two Marshall amps and speakers acted as a DJ.

Of course, there was a bar. Everyone was supposed to bring something. We brought two bags of ice, two magnums of Gordon's gin, two fifths of Cinzano vermouth, a jar of large green olives and a box of toothpicks, because there’s always room for the proper anesthetic. Martinis aren’t a shiny, new hobby with me - they’re a lifelong passion that I only indulge in on weekends and in psychologically safe environments.

There were 7 in our party - Sunny, Lisa, Leong (three of my suitemates), Lisa’s BF David (a Wall Street M&A man), Andy (a carrot-topped chain-smoking divinity-school undergraduate friend of Sunny’s), Charles (our escort, and driver) and me.

We’d been there about 30 minutes when Jordie, a guy I’ve been sort of crushing on for several months, showed up - alone. Lisa turned to me and yelled, “Uuu, lookie lookie,” when she saw him - I barely heard her - but I read her lips. I’d never really talked to Jordie, but when I looked at him, through the warm, martini mist, my tummy felt like Jello-excitement.

As the night wore on, Jordie and I started hanging out. We lost at foosball, 8-ball and ping-pong before we went up on the roof to get some air. The silvery ½-moon crescent was obscured, off and on by clouds, like a shell game where the moon was a jewel on blue velvet. You could almost hear the operator’s smooth, practiced patter, “now you see it, now you don’t, place your bets.”

It was quiet up there, so we actually talked. Somehow, the vast night seemed intimate. As we talked, the conversation was delicate and careful, like the words were made of crystal.

A while later, Jordie and I were back downstairs dancing. The entire floor was coated with that gray-speckled covering - so you could dance anywhere - but a rectangle of police tape in that flooring defined the official ‘dance floor’.

Two hours later, we were watching Sunny sing karaoke while holding a fuchsia martini (just add raspberry liqueur) in one hand. When Sunny goes, she totes commits and belting out an angry, screamo version of ‘Ain’t it fun’ by Paramore, she tried for a Beyonce-like head-spin (don’t try this at home), and slung half of her drink on the crowd - but it didn’t slow her, or them, down. After finishing, to huge applause, she took several bows and coming back to our table, she asked Andy, “How was I?”
Andy held out his hand and lampooned her by waffling it, in a so-so gesture.
As Lisa handed Sunny a replacement cocktail, she told Andy “You don’t get it - it’s supposed to be awful.”
“Then it’s the best version of the song I’ve ever heard.” he replied, holding up his hands like she had a gun.

Jodie and I danced some more and after a while, someone played a slow song. As we moved close together, his subtle, boy musk was torturous and intoxicating. How come guys smell better when they’re all sweaty and I smell like a horse? Eight weeks of lonely boredom and three martinis (4?) were almost enough to churn the sweat of desire into the intoxicating liquor of consent. In my secret heart I wanted him. Badly. I wanted to take him home and smash against him for hours. Alas, I have a (missing) boyfriend and I don’t believe in oopsies.

At that very moment I saw Charles, standing silhouetted in one of the dance floor lights - he had our coats in hand. I swear, that man can read my mind. I glanced at my watch, 2:30am. I stopped close dancing with Jordie and stepped back. “I gotta go,” I told him.
“It was fun,” he said, shrugging and smiling.
“It WAS fun,” I agreed, taking my coat from Charles who’d come over. “(I’ll) See you next week,” I added, as everyone in our little caravan started to move.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Lampoon: to ridicule with harsh satire.

totes = totally
Amina Sibtain Dec 2011
Eat the fourth cookie.
Bring back that fuzzy green sweater with lint ***** so stubborn
that even the strongest lint roller couldn’t break the bond they have with the sweater.
I know you pick your nose in public.
You stutter every time I ask who lives on Mamaroneck Street.
You have burping contests with yourself while you’re on the toilet.
I don’t care how you clip your toenails on today’s newspaper.
I still read it after you’re done.
I love that you paint each nail in a different neon color,
eat chocolate chips and green tea for breakfast,
and salt your apples.
You cry every time you watch Titanic.
I agree Rose should’ve moved to the side and shared the plank with Jack.
You rap to Baby Got Back fifty nine times in a row.
I wish we danced to it more often.
I wish you would tell me what you write in your red book.
I know you pretend you’re Beyonce in concert while working out,
and think Michael Buble wrote haven’t met you yet for you.
I love that you keep the ticket stubs from every single movie we see in the tea jar under your bed.
You smell of cologne every time you walk into the house.
You don’t know how to whisper. You never have.
You tell me you’ll be back by noon but don’t come back till 7 p.m.
You use your knitting needles as chopsticks when we order sushi,
And don’t stamp any of the letters you send your mom.
Even though you have seven wallets, you keep all your money loose in your bag
and throw away all the pennies in the trash.
You pretend your belly-fat is a puppet that can talk and sing,
And you flirt with the waiter for extra hot sauce.
You hate it when I use your cell-phone

And every night you kiss him goodnight at the train station.
dj Apr 2012
Clothes, laptop
More clothes
All this stuff in my room
Because that's where I always am
CDs, magazines
Posters
Materials are like maps
Maps where you edit out a lot of junk

Always stretching
Out into the Range
Sometimes I get bad things
Things that hurt me, trick me or use me
I throw those away

I've always been a 'lost boy'
- Not my emblem
Born this way die this way
It's Romeo & Juliet my whole life
Beyonce & Jay-Z
Mom & Dad
Disappointments & Me.

I'm a hydroponic
Call me whatever you want

I had to go find a map
Because
I guess
I'll never get one.
A walk in someone elses shoes
Jess Goff Jan 2014
Don’t tell me how I should look, I don’t have to please you.
I spend my days considering you’re opinion, I shouldn’t have to.
You come around here and you judge, and mock, and discriminate
In other words, you shoot bullets.
Woman belong in the kitchen, huh?
Don’t forget it’s where the knives are kept.
Everyone knows woman are taught to grow in, I’ve heard it all before
Were taught be kind, and timid, and gentle, and caring
Why do you think the best guard dogs are female, though?
We loyal, and aggressive, and when we work up the nerve we could tackle you to the ground.

How many woman spend their days thinking of how to look better?
I’d give it a good 98%
98%
Think about it
And what’s sad is, the last 2% will get no recognition for their inner beauty.
Do you even know what inner beauty is?
Try watching for it, instead, it might change your world.

Now take a step back, take a look, put yourself in my shoes.
Be judged by each and every person
You think it’s just men that judge? Ha!
I’m judged by all of my friends even, I can’t escape it.

Men can sit around and say what they want, and do as they please, and be praised for it.
That’s *******. You reek of it.

How many woman have dyed their hair for you?
How many woman have lost ten pounds for you?
How many woman have cried for you?
How many know you don’t deserve it?

Woman are taught to shrink themselves, but in the words of Beyonce, I woke up flawless.
I will choose to eliminate you from my life
I will terminate you by any costs, and I will replace you with people who make me feel so **** fine.

I will grow into something greater than you will ever be, and you will learn your lesson.
I will teach future generation that they are beautiful the way they are
No man will tell them whether or not they are beautiful, God knows they don’t have a clue what true beauty is.

My friend had a boyfriend once, he would force her to weigh herself weekly and tell him what her weight was. And if she wasn’t small enough, he would force her to work out.
I hated him that day forward, and I tell her every day that she is beautiful because her own **** boyfriend couldn’t do it. So much for love.

I will rise above, and I will portray beauty for what it really is.
I will be the female guard dog this generation of young woman needs.
I will teach girls that beauty is what makes you happy.
If putting on ten pounds of makeup makes YOU happy, then do it!
Never do something for liking of anyone else.
woman, confidence, guard dog, boo men, men
Harsh Nov 2012
I wish I caught chickenpox two months and two weeks ago.
Who would have imagined the painful discomfort,
to have a direct correlation with remodelling my rationality.
Even after a speedy recovery and two weeks later, the scars
on my otherwise genetically-blessed-clear-face, and all over
my rather well shaped body symbolises a deep story.
Life is not worth wasting on those who don't care enough.
As insomnia struck night after night, mixing thoughts with
nightmares and episodes of Vampire Diaries excessively
watched through out the day on a laptop balanced on my
torso as I laid on my sick bed, I had plenty of time to think.
I thought about how Mr. X only contacts me when he
needs comfort, solace, assurance, care, all on his terms.
Mr. Y, only to gloat how he just had *** or if he needed
an ego boost, and he stopped texting all together long ago.
Mr. Z, who I thought was going too well to be true bailed
after our first date got cancelled due to me catching the pox.
All in all at every stage in my life for the past decade,
I have wasted my time on a Mr. Wrong and it's pathetic.
Apart from having a date on Valantine's day, making out,
endless string of inspiration to write shallow poetry,
I have gained nothing but heart break and sad memories.
The one time my mother would quote Beyonce to say,
they all turned out to be the best thing I never had.
This poem is the sole property of me and cannot be copied or used without permission. [Copyright G.H. Rodrigo 20/11/2011]
Allen Wilbert Sep 2013
Best Week Ever

Just had my best week of all time,
I'm 42 but still in my prime.
Spent some time with Brittany Spears,
I left her begging and in tears.
After a night with Beyonce,
she wanted me to be her fiance.
Just one night with Pink,
now she can't even blink.
Had a date with Katy Perry,
she asked me to pop her cherry.
Spent some time with J-Lo,
she was more sloppy than a joe.
Rihanna likes to play rough,
**** she looks good in the buff.
Me and Fergie ate some black eyed peas,
then we were joined by Alicia keys.
Had a blast with Taylor Swift,
we did it on a ski lift.
Avril Lavinge wanted it never to end,
now she wants to be her boyfriend.
I turned Miley Cyrus back into Hannah Montana,
its a secret what we did with a banana.
Me and Kesha sang her hit Tik Tok,
then she ****** on my clock.
Selena Gomez is a witch no more,
I turned her into my little *****.
Carrie Underwood won't slash my tires,
the heat between us started some fires.
Gwen Stefani left the singer from Bush,
she loved the way I smacked her ****.
Lady Ga Ga showed me her poker face,
with her I reached every base.
Me and Lita Ford kissed each other deadly,
then she sang me a **** medley.
Madonna said I was her best,
we spent no time dressed.
I was man enough for Sheryl Crow,
let me tell you, she can really blow.
As the week ended, I had Shakira moving her hips,
then I woke up and it was an **** with Gladys Night and her Pips.

— The End —