"bleeping" poems
Under sizzling and bleeping
The time runs nigh
Between heaven and hell
In a room, too bright
Runs a body deadly circles
Captured in pipes
While the fellowship falls silent
As the headman decides
To live and let die
Slow, but soon, the dying noise
Leaves a weakly beating heart
Fighting it's own pointless war
No men alive shall ever thwart
And lifes children turn quiet
As they face the final loss
The fact they can´t deny
They live and let die
Now, the silence bales and centers
Around the fallen prey
Slowly, death spreads, like a cancer
Drives the living far away
Until only ease is lagging
In the minds that still stand by
Relief about the outcome
To live and let die
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 3:23 PM UTC
This is a Bleeping Bopping Boo.
Bleeping Bopping Boo lives on the biggest bandana in Boston.
Bleeping Bopping Boo eats big black butterflies, blankets, blue bananas and bears.
Bleeping Bopping Boo likes beating up babies, belly dancing, bouncing on buffalo's back and abducting bananas.
Bleeping Bopping Boo breaks into buffalo bodies, blame babies for bad stuff, and blabber all day.
Bleeping Bopping Boo banged my back against a box. Oy the Bleeping Bopping Boo./Users/mlackritz/Desktop/Screen shot 2012-05-22 at 3.22.47 PM.png
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 3:14 PM UTC
Where was I, when you were alive?
Was I sleeping, dreaming, kicking, screaming,
Staring in wonder at the bright stars a-gleaming?
Where was I when you were crying?
Was I thinking of life after dying,
Seeing as it was, or blind and sighing,
Where was I when you were crying?
When you were born, what was I doing?
Was I speaking, walking, peeking, stalking,
Dancing, singing, laughing, mingling,
Looking, lying, toking, trying?
Where was I when you were on the beach,
Staring out towards the sea?
Perhaps I was taking a ***
Or sipping my hot cup of tea?
Where was I when you were sleeping?
Perhaps I was in mid-air, leaping,
Or watching as MTV was bleeping swearwords.
Where was I when you fell ill?
Was I parked up on a hill,
Waiting for life to arrive
With a plan it did contrive?
When you were driving,
Or tidying,
Perhaps on a snowboard somewhere, sliding,
Was I alone at home and hiding?
Or on the bike somewhere, and riding?
Maybe I was wide-awake,
Or laughing with my friends, while baked,
Or greasing a pan to bake a cake,
Contemplating what makes a lake.
Or perhaps I was asleep and dreaming,
and lost in my subconscious readings,
With avatars of all my friends,
Buying a Mercedes Benz.
Where was I when you were wasted?
Was I laughing at old hatreds,
Staring at a crawling aphid,
Or in the shower, and stark naked?
Where were you while I was thinking?
Perhaps you were awake and blinking,
All the sleep out of your eyes,
After dreaming of cute Albanian guys?
Where is everyone this second?
I mean, this specific second,
As I write or read this poem,
Perform it for a crowd so wholesome,
Where am I as you read this?
Up on a stage and fighting fears false lisp,
To make sure all of these words are crisp,
Or eating bread with ham and swiss?
Are you dead, or are you living?
A minion to society's bidding,
Or policing streets and finally ridding
Pavement of the hobos twitching out of crystal ****
Perhaps you're firing a gun,
Or you've found the only 'one,'
To love through thick and thin, till death;
Or thinking, "Wow, poor old MacBeth."
In this moment, is it all;
So listen to the moments call,
And cancel all your texting plans,
And use those thumbs to grasp the hand,
Of a loved one next to you;
"The day before" was never true,
So there's no better time for you,
To look for some more love to brew.
So get up, and go do.
Go do it.
Apr 27, 2011
Apr 27, 2011 at 12:10 PM UTC
voices, mirror glance inward-outward
-inward-outward-inanoutandinward
in simultaneous disease-like passion--
divine like bacteria kneading and bleep
-ing up to one to one against to one toward
a unity, a collective evolutionary force begin
-ning in a marshy wallow-- forward to a creature
slithers rocks unsure if fish or finger-- beyond unto
a sharp-claw carnivorous terror (the Divine Right of
Kings) and slowly, in the wake of the destruction the
shattered continental plate lifted like a carpet during
renovation violence, the bacteria stayed away and
under soiled-earth to slowly form toward the muddy
saliva of a strangely-fit mouse-rat....
through the dissipating wake of molten mist, a
sabertooth tiger yawns with a growled-tremor
and an after-bath shake-- ends a trampled scrap
under mammoth foot having indicted this panic
in its desperate mammalian hunger-- this bacteria,
kneading and bleeping, continues its one to one
against to one as a meaty slab metabolized by
opportunistic caveman feeding his cubs and his
loves before courage became the theoretical pond
-ering of Voltaire's and Descartes's and Camus's...
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
As molecules of cellophane and plastic plate mix with cheesy mire of microwaveable dinner, I make excuse in my mind and apologize to my already over-compromised liver. It's simpler this way, or at least excusable for this moment. 56 dead in Garland, Texas, I think I can be thankful a tornado has not turned my world upside down, whilst biting down on tv dinner rations. Still I think, can 2015 end any faster? These last few days counting down and the microwave's digital display bleeping, sludge discriminating who shall be taken. It's all so guarded and circumspect. Please, if there be an element of good, may the new year know it.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
Out of everything I saw, I remember
the thumb.
Swollen and lopsided.
There it was, conquering the wires--red, blue, and green,
commandeering the clear tubes coated with stomach bile.
And the nail. What a healthy nail.
A pink rosebud with cuticle trim. Piqued with a white crest, curling.
Prime for at least fifteen more back scratches.
A drawerful of button-ups.
Pockets of heads and tails.
You can do it, Grandma.
One, two.
Heads, tails.
Up, down.
Up for braid, down for bun.
Braid? Yes. Braid.
And then there are two small thumbs bumbling through foreign terrain.
The braidee now braiding. The baby,
aging.
Tucked in, lulled by echoes of strange mothers. Bleeping pressures, sugars, drawing lines and colors.
But you have me.
And I have this thumb,
hidden under mine.
I’ll keep it safe for you, here in this shadowed palm—sanctified, secret dome.
I’ll protect it from the unhooked jaw.
From placid flesh curtains, over a damp backstage.
White light hanging over the insect—splayed on a lightning-gleamed car windshield.
I’ll hide it away.
Intermission.
Hush now.
Quiet, you. The show is not yet done.
And ****** it won’t be. Not with this thumb.
Not on my time.
I bite it.
At you. Skyward you.
Elusive and slippery. Shiny, rubber-like, all but new.
A blank belated card, lost in the mail.
What it might have said,
had I left a forwarding address.
But we’re here now in this dark hand cavern.
Tucked away, safely in lines.
Those of the palm.
Of tree rings.
Of love songs, and
Pretty things.
Lines, like wires
red, green, and blue.
They bring me closer
And closer
To the thumb.
Fat, with shiny aged skin,
stretched new.
And suddenly, I’m
Old.
Numb along one side.
Useless and dumb.
A limp puppet
plunked down
during intermission.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 3:38 PM UTC
today i asked my mom what happened on 9/11 here is how that conversation went
me: what happened on 9/11
mom: Well, a plane crash-
me: what really happened
mom:(sigh) I was nursing you
mom:i found out, by a phone call. it was grandma karen, she called and asked if your dad was ok
me:Then what
mom: I called him
mom:he said he was hungry so he went to get mcdonalds before his flight
me:wait, he was supposed to be on that flight?
mom: he missed his 1st class boarding and they wouldn't let him on.
me:wow
mom: we were 5 minutes away from losing him. but that idiot wanted mcdonalds(crying) and he missed...his...bleeping flight!!!
Mom: you were barely over a year and your father was nearly killed
me:oh my gosh
mom:
me:
mom: then, i turned on the news in time to see the second tower fall.
me:
mom: it was strangely beautiful, no, thats not the word.... it was
captivating,
like a bad car wreck you can't look away from. and the world stopped, and inside i was praying to god even though i had never prayed before in my life.
me:
mom: thats what happened on 9/11
me:
mom: thats what happened
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
Softness of their bleeping melody
echoes through the canyon walls,
etched by millennium
the sweetest sound,
spreading calm
through cycles
of raging-time
herding on.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 7:28 AM UTC
Press play before reading - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWtx0AvGAlw
Take all my ashes,
throw them in the earth,
in the wheat fields, the remnants of cotton fields, the tree roots and the minefields.
Take all my bone and sinew,
sew them in the empty spaces,
in the family hospital rooms, in the deployment barracks, in the wake of a tsunami, and the after burn of an earthquake,
Take all my blood,
seal it into a coursing river,
in to the vacumn of the solitary life, the parents watching bleeping incubators, the last breath on death beds, and the blue refugee bedrooms.
Take all my breath,
and throw it into the tide,
in to those that need words, in those that have lost their fight, in those who no longer care, and those that just can't move.
Take all my heart,
and throw it on the table,
give the muscles to the fleeing children, give the valves to the returned soldiers, give the membrane to families destroyed by poverty, and give the beat only, to my son.
Take all my wild passion,
and throw it in to the air,
in to the cyclists before they fall, in to the pianists arthritic fingers, in to all the first wedding dances, and into the young before they grow old.
Take all my tears,
and fill a bottle up,
fill up those thirsty and dying, fill up the lakes of dying fish, fill up those empty with grieving, and fill up the eyes of those who forgot how to cry.
Take all my love,
and let it just dissipate,
let it find its way, let it filter through the ******** let it wash away the guilt and shame, and let it fill you up.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
there is a simple mono toned beeping in my brain
and as its bleeping, i keep saying
these fireworks for stars are brighter than they ever are
and i'm only lost on this captivating island for so long
i gaze and to gaze, is a miracle itself yet not as miraculous as the planets risen high in the sky
and as deep as the resin in my pipe.
and the grass, so much greener
and the water in this puddle is much cleaner
although i've gazed for such a deliberate extended time
and how it flies
like fireflies or some annoying dragon fly.
all flies. do fly but how high could i take this dragon fly
until she loses oxygen and begins to forfeit her life?
am i this dragon fly? Do i really wanna to die?
Does anyone?
hold on
anyway, as i was saying
am i viewed as absent minded,
when dwelling within my mind
seems to me to be fine?
is it absolutely outrageous that i can't hear you when you speak?
or that i choose not to?
because when you speak, i think, and when i think i dream, on all of that which i percieve to be truthful and great
and stuff
but i'm just analyzing, and finalizing how i really feel about the situation.
and in that deep contemplation i am in a state, and as i am in my state of being late
you are awaiting a response. which you instantly say
"nevermind"
I hate the n and v in that word.
with their sharp edges and falsifying curves.
staring into space now until every color is one and every object a blur.
and then their is silence
and if you actually cared about the science of it all
you would know i only see what i want to see when i sleep
and so do you, but it's all the same to me.
i'll weave in and out of our conversation as i am
day dreaming of something blue, with warm heat rays
piercing into my very core.
it doesnt mean i'm bored, i just have an imagination,
what? oh...nothing i wasnt here for that anyway....
Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 12:06 AM UTC
Wont stop bleeping, can't start breathing,
Knowing where the truth lies.
Listening to you say you miss them,
But what about you and I?
Was it real?
Or am I invisible?
If I died would you notice, would you even cry?
Was it just school days, memories fade?
Or are you a true friend of mine?
Breaking down and building up, but I can't decide.
Were you a true friend of mine?
Was it hope or a disguise?
Are you a true friend of mine?
Tell me! Was our friendship a lie?
Or are you a true friend of mine?
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
While we were sleeping, the sandman was creeping, whilst we were weeping he waited while peeping.... Dreams were then seeping into bags he was keeping... Ones we were lapping up laughter, whilst skipping and leaping with joy, that was sweeping through love we were reaping, so much it was heaping up to sizes so great, then oh no, there's that bleeping we hate! Oh that wee thing we berate, that won't even wait whilst are dreams recreate, such a magical state we wishfully want as our fate.... Now the buzzer has buzzed, we're awake, it's too late! X
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 5:16 PM UTC
They say it’s always best to listen in silence
When you have a moment and in need of solitude.
But last night I dreamt of poetry
It has come calling, knocking on my dome
Thunderously Whispering in my ears
Even though at times
It’s hard to understand it’s language
Even though at times
It drives me so (bleeping ) insane
Voices ,voices everywhere
At times The only way to make it stop is to fade-away
Because
At times it can be blinding
Like looking directly into the sun
At times it can be unbearable
Like having your heart broken
Into a million pieces
At times it can be dazing
Like having your head submerged
Underwater and your whole world
As you know it, Suddenly disappear
Like you’re swimming inside the clouds
A drift of forever lost moments
But whether I try avoid looking ,
Or refuse to listen to it’s voices
My desire to seek the secret of the Stars
My desire to kick wide open the Sky to see what awaits
Has my eyes darting
My mind racing
Heart beating
Ink cravings
Smiles and Frowns
Gracing my face
As if poetry wants to give me
Another reason
To leap forward
Another reason
For another Edmund black ambiance
Another reason
To dance once more
And another reason
To gifting myself for something
Greater than myself
A reason for a purpose
To share my love of words
To enlighten, to illuminate and to touch the infinite
Even when at times
Nothing else exists
So whether I love it or hate it
I’m always honored to obliged!
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC
Cold and unfeeling,
The future seems freezing,
You left me alone,
Now there's no place to call home.
You said you would never leave,
Now I'm like dust on your sleeve,
Just brush me off,
And leave me with but a scoff.
Don't look back now,
You're such a bleeping cow,
Don't look at me with those pitying eyes,
You were the one who fed me lies.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
When I stepped off any JetBlue flights
I always look forward in passing through customs
like a relief of fresh air, as I broad a taxi
and homeward to the hills,
Now it's like humiliations taking over one's pride:
#Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall. #
The smell of the countryside fresh air,
The picturesque that blanket the countryside, (pleasing)
The welcoming of the breaded goats bleeping (Pleasing)
moves the little girl inside of this old gal.
These days it’s which hotel should I booked for my days stayed
in Quarantine, or which government facility will I be sent off too
Between a rock and a hard place,
I can’t stress hard enough about those Chinese.
Which make our Lebanese bombers looks like saints?
My fainted heart can’t stand this new normal:
The bleach rocks on the sands awaits my arrivals,
And I for one can’t wait to see this corvid19 as a historical memory
Too much emotional, overload for most of us.(including me) however,
being too hasty can also be deadly, or one would say
Don't be hasty to hug! That was never a problem for me
I never hug, anyone...
Keep your distance, I keep mines too
Poetry is also a distance, that why I love to compose..
Long enough have I dreamed of happiness,
Now I waited for news to strived for happiness once again
To dance from dusk to dawn, at Q in the community
To walked freely on the sandy shore,
Without restriction, of a mask bandit,
I am not a swimmer, but to feel the salted water on my ashy feet,
The midst of sea upon my breast, and my cheap weaved curled into locks
That when I know, I am home again, upon that hill (Prout hill)
Where the neighbors' gossips, and tambourine echoes in the village church
On Sundays.
Jun 6, 2021
Jun 6, 2021 at 9:55 AM UTC
Letting it out to breathe, carbon monoxide detectors bleeping as smoke fills the moon
As it's ugly and I've already bared it
With ****** lips, my cranberry watch kiss
It is obvious too much
Wanna turn the projector screen on me
All of my insecurities on my face
Every word I ever said
Already..
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
Phones are bleeping,
as bell rings, gone age before.
Emails hit with bing,
as inbox sings, challenge raw.
People are hurrying,
as stride heavy, upon corridor.
Cars angry blaring,
as daze cast, expletives roar.
My space is glaring,
as corner table, trees restore.
Home foreswearing,
as serenity rules, office four.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
Suicide, I thought,
would be my stage exit
(left)
until the pills got stuck in my throat, the doctors got stuck into my heart
pounding, their television screens bleeping
bringing me back
to Hell
when I was just a
step away
from Heaven
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 10:36 AM UTC
She smiled awkwardly, too young to drink,
And I wondered was this her first time,
As her muddled words tumbled out,
“It’s not bad news.”
She looked at me, half-expectantly,
Like a child on Christmas morning,
And I wondered was she silently
Counting to 8, or 10, or the exact seconds
Some think-tank had determined was
Right, under the circumstances.
“Do you want to see the body?”
I shook my head, as the image
Of my father, ever a thin man in life,
Sat up on a gurney, bare-chested,
Wired up to bleeping machines,
Flooded my inner eye. That was
The last time I saw him, and the
Last time I ever would, and that
Is how I always remember him.
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
My clock will not stop bleeping and I can't get out of my bed. My hair is a knotted mess and there is a throbbing in my head. I stumble and stub my toes on a toy or two as I make my way to the kitchen for my first cup of brew. The coffee *** is on but its not what I think, instead of steaming hot coffee, I get an orange energy drink. It seems that one of the children decided to help me out. Now my mouth tastes awful, I need to rinse it out. I have a two year old tugging at my leg. All I keep hearing is eggs, eggs ,eggs. My wife is still lost in la la land. I am not sure how much more of this I can stand. I try to turn on the morning news only to get kids t.v. . Now I am watching pointless cartoons, for the remote has a parental lock you see. So I run to fix breakfast and get burned seven times. Then it's off to get a shower, and hope I can come alive. I turn on the water and here is where I think I will stay. It seems to be the only place I can find a moments peace from my morning in disarray.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 7:06 AM UTC
when the timestamp on your watch is
3:33
and for a split second
god shines down
from splintered heavens
and the breath that is silent
expands in my lungs
like a million sighs
like an enlarging balloon
racing to the explosion
I see the rapture in my digitalised smile
the bleeping raises to the crescendo
I feel the robot veins
I feel the steady hands
holding wrists
like ropes writ ready
god smiles like an enlarging balloon
hot and heavy
with bountiful love
but the timestamp flickers
from its devilish perfection
3:33
off the edge
cleaved down in a cliff face
I race on the blade of it
the seconds of sanctimonious breathing
coming to a stop
3:34
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 4:15 AM UTC