"bluffing" poems
Saw it all,
One last time...
Slowly, pressed "DELETE"
Swore to myself,
This mistake shall not repeat.
But I know, you know
I was bluffing.
It happened again.
I saw it all one more time,
One last time.
But this time, my hands don't tremble
I press not slowly, but swiftly "DELETE"
And I know, for sure,
It won't repeat.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 1:59 PM UTC
This is the colour of my anger:
A white hot searing fever
Tearing through my veins like amphetamine;
A surreal dream that keeps replaying in my brain
Over and over again...
Life is pain enough
Without other people
Making it tough. Guess I ran out of luck:
Top of the class and surrounded by dumb *****
Whose only qualification is knowing how to trigger
The ticking bomb I've strapped on
In my anger.
This is the colour
This is the colour
This is the ************* colour
This is the colour of my anger:
This weird red mist with its fingers
Coiled around my brain,
Blurring my vision as I allow it
To make my decisions
For me. Again, it hands me the gun, then runs,
Leaving me to get the
Damage done. Well, aint this fun?
Three, two, one, and it’s time to take cover
I won’t get any sleep
Until I’ve shown you the colour
Of my anger.
This is the colour
This is the colour
This is the ************* colour
This is the colour of my anger:
A smouldering orange lava
That laughs at the wrath of the sun,
And I feel like the risen Son
As it pours out of me, heavenly,
Reducing everything in its path to the
Sum of zero
But this is just a fraction of what it’s capable of.
Hot and full of hell is my fury. Shit's getting gory.
It's time to remove the canker.
No more bluffing, I’m all in -
Let the games begin
With my anger.
This is the colour
This is the colour
This is the ************* colour
This is the colour of my anger:
The cloudless blue of my eyes
As I admire my workmanship,
Reflecting upon the new ********
That I have just ripped for you.
My smile spreads from ear to ear, like a slit throat,
Beatific in my ecstasy as this anger drains out of me.
The adrenaline that pumped so furiously
Now dumps its load in me, bringing me to my knees.
Enough, I say, as I see how small you stand there;
Let's call it a day, now be on your way,
Just remember the colour of my anger.
Don’t ever
****
With me
Again
Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 10:40 PM UTC
Enter—the transitive nightfall
of diamonds.
There are crop circles dancing
in a wave on Neptune,
with corn rows gleaming from
the man on Mars.
Tail feathers toss toward a
flute near Venus.
Fly me like a rainbow
to the nearest star.
Sirius B
has nothing for me.
Anunnaki women want
to dig my scene.
Don’t take me seriously;
I’m bluffing like a rookie
with a pair of queens.
Moon Unit lands with a
Zappa on Pluto.
Yoda on Saturn
plays steel guitar.
Moses rides in on a
doggone quasar.
Captain Trips sleeps
by a medicine jar.
Sirius B has
something for me.
Hot Nibiru babes try
to make my dream.
Don’t greet me furiously.
I’ll drop you like a comet
heading to the east.
Exit—the transitive nightfall
of diamonds.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
"In a row???" I ask, incredulous.
"Nah, man."
"Were you at least #37?"
"Well, yeah. But still that gets to me," he says. He starts counting change, playing with pennies on the glass counter.
"If you didn't see it, it didn't happen," I reply. I pull out a $5.00 bill.
"That's childish!" He looks at me like I'm a babbling idiot.
"That's my life!" It was my life.
"I can't believe you sometimes," he says. Nobody can, bud.
"You better start. I'm smarter than I look." I'm bluffing now; I'm a ******* idiot.
"Yeah, yeah. Do you wanna buy anything or not?" he goes back to his pennies on the glass counter.
"Yeah--Marlboro Reds," I reply hesitantly. For a moment I thought about Camels.
"$5.00 even." It's always $5.00 even when you're with friends.
"Alright."
"Shorts or 100s?"
**** man, shorts!" It's my turn to look at him like he's a total stranger.
"Just asking." He puts the bill in the register.
"Shorts say badass. 100s say suicide mission."
"I suppose you're right."
"It makes perfect sense!"
"Either way you're going to die."
"Yeah? So are you, buddy."
**** you."
I exit the convenience store, pack my Marlboro Reds, turn two up (one for luck, one for **** to be smoked lastly out of the pack) and light one.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
I'm ridin' down in my old school Chevy (yeah)
Owh, she can get it.. (Mhm)
Bad little shawty,
So thick and pretty,
Girl come sit with me,
Ride out and see the city,
Let the lights hypnotize ya
It ain't no biggie, (word)
I'm young man searching,
Looking for a queen
A woman who takes full control
Both in and out the sheets
**Now babe let's ride till they dim the city lights,
I'm not lookin for a right now,
I'm lookin for a wife
The kind that holds me down
And picks it up slow
So if you down, come around
Baby girl let me knowwww**
*Queen of hearts, Queen of hearts
Tryna play my cards right
Queen of hearts, Queen of hearts
Can I hold you down tonight?
Queen of hearts, Queen of hearts
A one of a kind in this deck
My Queen of hearts, yes
Can you put my heart in check?*
Now I'm sweatin and shakin
Tryna see if she's bluffing,
Am I just another dealer?
Just another man cuffin?
Does this card mean nothing?
So why do I play it so close to my heart?
Is this the moment that I reshuffle? Redo the deck and restart?
Man this the hardest part,
Imma take my odds
Gamble on her smile,
Bid on this work of art,
Cause love is a game,
You only win if you play
So I ask this Queen of hearts
"Baby is this my lucky day?"
**Now babe let's ride till they dim the city lights,
I'm not lookin for a right now,
I'm lookin for a wife
The kind that holds me down
And picks it up slow
So if you down, come around
Baby girl let me knowwww**
*Queen of hearts, Queen of hearts
Tryna play my cards right
Queen of hearts, Queen of hearts
Can I hold you down tonight?
Queen of hearts, Queen of hearts
A one of a kind in this deck
My Queen of hearts, yes
Can you put my heart in check?*
Layin on the beach,
It's me and my Queen
Whispering sweet nothings in her ear
And she gently kisses my cheek,
Then she climbs on top of me
As we watched the sunset
This was more than two loves
This was more than just ***
It was passion from the ocean
And the heat from the sun
It was crazy, stupid, love
It was a blessing up above
It's feet deep in the sand
Till we both walked hand in hand
She was my only Queen of hearts
And I was her loyal kingsman.
*My Queen of hearts, yeah...
Oh, oh. Oh yeah
My Queen of hearts yeah...
Oh, oh, ohh
She's simply one of a kind
My Queen of hearts....
Oh, tell me will you be mine?*
(Singing fades out)
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
Gettin’ sh!t on like I’m The Villian,
got this queasy feeling on the line reeling,
coming undone at the same time wound up and spun,
I’m done playing but stuck at the table with The Dealer still dealing,
want to throw myself up out of myself,
can escape every position except the one I’m in,
can’t escape yourself if knowledge is wealth,
then I’m loaded & still spending my winnings,
got Karma Credit but I’m morally cash poor,
because I just fckt my girlfriend as if she was a *****
and I feel terrible or rather horrible about it,
because i think I’m infected by what neglect did without a cure,
no one is pure,
at least I’m not that’s for sure,
I'm tainted with devils in my head painted with what I spilled I’m red,
sick with the sort of illness that can't easily be cured,
in fact got a bad case of the blues,
but instead of strumming a guitar I’m taking things too far,
cut her so bad with my fingernails,
that I fear it might leave a few scars,
tied her up so tight,
that her wrists turned purple,
see she’s attracted to bad boys,
and I warned her that that’s the type of attraction that can hurt you,
little girl shouldn’t be out past her curfew,
nothing good ever happens past midnight,
but we’re both running from something,
both stand outs in the in crowd still something doesn’t sit right,
I’m uncomfortable,
because I think maybe all humans are disgusting,
maybe we just cause each other pain and trash the earth’s surface,
maybe we deserve to feel guilty & that’s why we are all fcking distrusting,
maybe I’m gonna fckn **** myself,
but this is a card game so then again maybe I’m bluffing,
maybe everything’s going to be alright,
maybe I’m being uptight for nothing,
but I’ll tell you what I feel like the **** of my own joke,
but I don’t give a fck so instead of changing I’m just shrugging,
mean mugging every person I pass suspicious of every bloke,
because these days crime pays and everyone’s always up to something,
and I just want to get ghost,
but I can’t and I guess that’s the way it goes,
so I’m sittin’ in the uncomfortable position,
of being both a role model as well as a criminal,
Gettin’ sh!t on like I’m The Villian,
got this queasy feeling on the line reeling,
coming undone at the same time wound up and spun,
I’m done playing but stuck at the table with The Dealer still dealing…
∆ LaLux ∆
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 7:18 AM UTC
Im tired of all the lies I hide behind, so Im Breaking the ties to the past
Long lasting present because the past is the past not a cage,
and it also isn't a theatre
So this exsistance shouldn't be staged, cause this **** ain't funny like Bellamy,
You might think I've gone mad because I'm not listening to what you're tellin' me not to,
but I got to, in order to survive, because the self inflincted wounds are healing and hardening, I'm searching for a deeper punishment,
making life more enjoyable, laid back and not so tense,
you won't have to worry about what trouble I might be in next,
and you won't have to be burdened with disappointment when I fail your tests.
So I'll play this life like a game of spades,
by the time this game is over, my stomach will be corroded with rage
but I'll keep a pokerface,
hidden behind stoner charm, a smile,
a handsome face & tinted shades,
I know you're clearly blind to my bluffing,
and I know you see me today,
but my eyes are set on the worries of tomarrow and
my mind is still wincing from yesterdays sarrow
I'm alive but I'm dying inside
because the guilt and shame are smothering me,
not to mention I'm choking on regret,
Don't fret, because my face isn't turnin' blue, and my pulse isn't speeding up,
but my wrists are scarred, but not ******
and please don't worry because this won't happen agian,
not making any promises,
Lord please forgive me for I know that I have sinned,
I just needed some proof to remind me where I've been....
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 4:33 PM UTC
Born of a binary,
black/white,
white/ black.
Cultured by silence,
a blank slate,
but no more tears.
Time isn't real.
They speak, they say,
tell me there's nothing wrong with me;
standing in the kitchen with my
grandmother telling me there is
nothing DIFFERENT about you.
Strive to conform.
Sameness is a casualty.
**I DON'T GIVE A ****
about conservatives
.
"Humanists" avoiding their toxic
misogynistic tendencies,
old friends enlisted
voluntarily perpetuating a
system of violence and suffering,
others are bluffing, don't say ****
walk eggshells,
I must be a tiger loose from the cage,
and they're waiting to see who becomes the
canary in my coal mine.
Rhyming by incident,
but I hate this **** & I'm not all right.
Women can participate in their own oppression,
minorities can be racist,
we're all raised in a ditch;
Patriarchy, capitalism, class values,
botched messages, "color blindness",
etc. etc. etc.
**** everyone, and don't treat me like I'm better
or I should know better, or I have to be "perfect"
if I want to be "different". Raised in a ditch.
Cultured by racism and depression.
I think of suicide like a novelty
until I don't
.
.
.
Everything turns grey and reads like sloganeering.
Waiting for the past to manifest as a trauma.
Waiting for the past to make sense.
Waiting.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
On moon-damp sheets, you slowly open my violet fig, passing halves tongue to tongue,
its seed-pearls, captive minutes embraced by our soft lips,
each velvet pulse a swallowed clock tick, unthreading the night’s camisole—unstrung
Our minutes take root inside our souls, night’s vines in green hour’s gentle grip,
soft pods burst open, figs too ripe to cradle our desires,
their wet seeds, exploring, ticking onward—dreaming of a solar eclipse
Dawn’s pallid hand already tests the window, sprouting its cruel thorns and briars,
we stack our stolen seconds like leaves against the latch, a barricade of lost cries,
yet every green minute bleeds to gold, slipping through fingers, we tire—
Seconds steep in our bellies like sour home-brewed wine highs,
bubbles of yesterday escape—tiny pale moons clinging to folds and hips,
drunk on recycled time, we speak only in overlapping echoes of whys?
One corner of the mattress folds like a calendar page—blank, stripped,
our shadows lengthen backward, seeking last night’s candlelight,
Dawn’s fiery glow becomes a vortex of memory and lust—we slip, hip to hip
A seed-shaped cog spills within; its milk is bitter sun, not honeyed night,
the soft ticking falters—our wetness rusts the teeth of fragile gears,
we press our palms to the fracture, bluffing the hunger of day’s appetite.
All swallowed instants germinate in rapture; green shoots flare wild from every tear,
morning slips through the leaf-lattice, feral, unstoppable—death,
the room sighs oxygen unearned; we wake leaf-littered, dewed, a frontier unclear
One last seed, caged behind the sternum, ticks backwards, waiting for breath,
it counts in reverse, each tick a small fist begging still to be loved,
we do not let it out; we cradle the echo, its name?
Aug 24, 2025
Aug 24, 2025 at 2:45 PM UTC
Rushes that come with risk:
some, get that with money
some, with the market
coming out the other end somehow exponentially
better off
For me
the buoyant thoughts
of all the possibilities open
coming out the other side
I do by gambling
love
by tossing in intrepid
change
by bluffing
emotions
by raising
mortal
risk
This
is the life worth gambling for
This
is the life I worth living
The Fearful, step aside
there are tides I need to ride
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 9:36 PM UTC
Gleaning of the Owl.
Gimbal eyed and shrugged
on Oaken bough
before the bluffing of the Crow
before Rook caw and Raven croak
before the shriven threaded dawn-
to glean a silent measure.-
thrawn.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 1:25 AM UTC
[Verse 1: MGK]
Every day I, wake up, to the same ****
In the same house, with the same bricks
In the same clothes, with the same kicks
I might as well be in jail
Caged in, stairin' at the wall waitin' for a change but
Dad telling me I gotta get a job
Couldn't pay the bills so the lights turned off
Them Cleveland boys got it hard
Oh my god, we been living like this too long
Just to lose it all in a week
My people too strong
Get it? Me and my boys be gone
Puffing on **** like this the lawn
Me and my boys tired of being here
That is why we gone
They say we wouldn't amount to nothing, huh?
Y’all thought we was bluffing, huh?
Fought every temptation **** I guess I’m David Ruffin huh?
Nowadays, we don’t gotta do that dirt, tell my boys they good
And nowadays my little girl won’t have to work, moved her out the hood
Look man, I done been through it all, and I’ma ****** if I got this far
And if I let them strip me of this message let these haters take my heart
This for the ones that had it hard, the ones like me, the underdogs
This for the ones that waited for them clouds to fall, please god let it
[Hook]
You can't see my tears, in the rain
Underneath it all, we’re just the same, same, same
You can't see my tears, in the rain
All around the world it’s just the same, same, same
You can't see my tears, in the rain
So I let it rain
[Verse 2]
And they mad that I made it out the city
But if you look I'm still out in the city
Before everything I had clout in the city
Two other states and never bounced on the city
Shout out to everybody that’s proud in the city
Everybody cheering in the crowd from the city
Everyone that never had doubts in the city
Cause they know I represent what we about in the city
And I’m still laced up, tell the world that’s nothing changed
Till it’s hundred dollar bills in my pocket, then nothings change
If my team ain't with me, then I don’t wanna thang, tell them I'll go broke before I run out on my gang
EST over everything
100 thousand plus, cult fan base yea that is us, my songs tattooed on they body troubled youth, we bad as **** and what?
Nobody gave a **** about for broken mirrors
So I care less about appearance
Just as long as they can hear us
We’re fearless, we’re stupid, we’re dealers, we’re loser's
We’re killers, we're orphan's, we’re addicts, we’re stealers
We’re shooters so **** us
We are what they say we are until conformity hits us
Or those clouds come down and take them all with us, please god let it
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 2:57 PM UTC
Knocking on my door: Charlie Calgary is here!
His clothes in tatters, upper lip bleeding.
With tenderness my mother welcomes him. He looks
at me knowingly, pretending to tear.
Trickery! Always bluffing till they bring
Something free. He's among the youngest crooks.
She gives him dinner and one of my toys.
"Count your blessings", she counsels me. I frown,
flip Charlie the bird, get sent to my room.
This is the same game he often employs.
Later on, mother's in her evening gown,
Charlie's gone. I sweep the porch with a broom.
The day finishes. It's dark. Quite quickly
the starlight shows --- walking off carelessly, save
knowledge of wounding and cruel, fleeting thought ---
that sadistic boy Charlie Calgary,
whom my misled, well-meaning mother gave
stuffed-chicken dinners, new toys that she'd bought.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
For this point and time being my life is good up in this moment
It’s showing and the hoes know it
so it’s hard to overthrow it
So I’m living like a rockstar but funny cuz I ain’t famous
And it’s funny, see the money then you start to see the changes
See my friends in different places
cuz we walk in different paces
And we trapped up in the struggle hoping one day we can make it
And I’m scared to loose em to death cuz we outta luck
But I’m really afraid to grow apart cuz we outta touch.....
**** where’d the time go
Looking at me in this mirror, realizing I’m getting old
But yet I’m still young and I’m happy within my placement
But with all the **** I’ve done what happens if I never make it
Afraid to drop a seed, I’ll raise him, I ain’t bluffing
But how can he look up to me if I don’t amount to nothing
I’m taking a second to sit and think about my fears
Will I lead to my own destruction or continue on my years
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 5:49 AM UTC
1.
I feel
fractured splintered defeated
entirely insular
and spread to thin
all at the same time
covered with insecurities
like a cheap suit
or hollow exoskeleton
nothing more than a lie. I grow tired.
I'm bluffing my way through this life
a brutal honesty
I lack the courage to accept
hiding my face
from every mirrored surface
a halfhearted attempt
to prolong this detrimental denial.
I can't ******** my way
through self-reflection
and trying to improve my image
feels positively improvised.
I lack sincerity and authenticity
an individual breathing without zeal
I need a break.
2.
Here I am again a lonely itinerant migrating
to the proverbial and often visited crossroads
rather than contemplating
a direction worth navigating
be it following in the worn footprints of others
or a path long overgrown with neglect.
I'd rather lie down on the gravel road
and nap in the open air
just to wake up confused and temperamental.
The destination remains unknown
my indecision remains intact.
I give impetuous a bad name
by reputation and repetition alike
conjoined twins that speaks to
fate and circumstance.
Like Houdini
I'm secured in a long sleeve shirt
dangling upside down from a burning rope
placing blame on the flame.
I need a break.
3.
I'm not as intelligent
or insightful as I once thought
my wasted youth is a testament.
A modern ruin
like so many a Blockbuster
I've outlasted my usefulness.
I imagine what could have been
clueless as to what lies ahead.
A jovial repentance
seems as likely as
success, or stability, **** simplicity.
Is it all too much to ask?
I've been on break too long.
4.
reboot jumpstart
Alleviate my stagnant, vacant lot in life
and cast off these first world problems.
Consider not the flat champagne
or the distance that separates
today from death.
Speak positively to the people
that would not otherwise attract minimal attention.
Set goals both grand and plausible
with no worry of dividends
and release cynicism
and determine a trajectory
that I may see through to completion.
If for no other reason
but to say that I tried.
It's not so bad this imagined and dire circumstance.
Relax and go on break.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 7:48 PM UTC
Welcome,
Ladies and Gentlemen,
I'm preaching a lesson,
And the merest mention,
Might cause social tension.
We live in an age of,
New things, super computing,
Mood rings, school shootings,
Fast Commuting, Mass Polluting
If you've got a question,
You should try and ask it,
Try and draw attention to,
Oceans full of grime and plastic.
Drastic measures are needed,
Why can't they see it?
We poison the earth,
And then try to seed it.
You might choke from the smoke,
Everyday Beijing breathing,
Our enemy is cloaked,
But free eyes see him.
Squeezing the last drops,
From the planet won't work because
Before the last's tree's chopped,
We have to plant with love.
Now who are these men,
With the Greatest greed?
Depriving people with a pen,
Of their basic needs.
The proceeds of their misdeeds,
Flow back to the system,
The corporate creed,
Profits off human divisions.
Listen by this time,
We've all had enough of it,
The mind control message,
Still tells me, "I'm loving it!'
Our generation is facing
Annihilation in our age
But the politicians on stage
Fight about the minimum wage.
Debate over free-speech,
Is finished we won it,
We won't get arrested and beat,
This isn't a G-8 summit.
Don't sell your life to the Company,
For a car and a home,
Claim your right to be a somebody,
Your life is your own.
I find it sad and pathetic,
People are attracted magnetically,
Or genetically to create,
Something we can't see.
A father in threes,
Behaving apologetically
and ethically correctly,
Directly see the universe's apathy.
People always have faith,
Governments will save us,
But at a suitable date,
won't hesitate to invade us.
Everybody's cynical,
About the media.
Remaining uncritical,
Of internet encyclopedias.
Obedience Blind,
Is worth less than nothing.
Read, think, search, find,
Catch the fake world bluffing.
There is a solution,
You can break their control,
You heart starts the revolution,
Save your soul.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 5:01 PM UTC
What is expected from me?
You were the half that chose to leave
I'll do my best
Be your friend
Even if leading to another dead end
Never thought we would wash up where we are
Two separate shores
Watching you from afar
Be truthful with me
That is what I most desire
Sick of the games
Frustrated
Tired
Fake way through a familiar apology
Promising to be the man I know you'll never be
Like a rolling dice
Have many faces
Expert at bluffing yet you're always holding aces
You gamble my love
About time you lose
My heart not an object to pull apart or use
I'm sick of betting my chips
The poorest hand
For you I go all-in
Don't even understand
I never was good at cards
At least that is what I'm told
Probably should cut my losses
Say farewell and finally fold
Sep 7, 2021
Sep 7, 2021 at 11:51 AM UTC
Rest in peace my self esteem
I'v lost the courage to chase those dreams
Memories of days past, lines blurring, they went by so **** fast
When you wonder about life, about the grand scheme behind it
you try to find it, define it,
make sense of the senseless
what can I create from nothing
I guess I'm bluffing when I say something sincere
like that there's sentient life far away, we're talking light years
all I can really do is adhere to the rules, tell people about my high school
reminisce and wish things were the way they used to be
I just wanna be free, go out and see what's out there
go to the fair, play with your hair, stop and stare at those eyes
how could I ever lie about what you meant to me
your mind and soul were nearly as vast as the sea to me
I wanted to dive deep, be a creep and know all there is about you
but what can I do now that you're gone
I feel so alone, staying at home, afraid of the unknown
I still checked my cracked phone for texts from you
the last words I'd ever see were etched onto a headstone, gravestone, can I atone for what I did with this precious stone?
No.
Because you're gone and that's that.
I can shout that I miss you,
wish I'd kissed you harder
please
just one more dance?
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 9:38 PM UTC
The industry, man its not the same
The industry, its not a ******* game
The industry, real ****** is dying to get in
The industry, just define that they don't fit in
The industry, ain't what it used to be
The industry, trying to control the way you rap
The industry, wants you to dress gay and talk gay
But ima dress regular and talk with a gat
The industry, got y'all words meaning nothing
The industry, **** what you heard cause he's bluffing
The industry, money ******* and hate but I dare you
To take a ******* thing off my plate
The industry, like WAIT, but in the streets we like GET EM,
Set em up in that thing, catch em sleeping and hit em and I'm
Pop whoever with em, the coroner is coming to get em
The industry, don't give a **** about you
Industry ****** that's how I tell em.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
Calender Girls
Miss January, keeps me very warm,
make me glad, that I was born.
Miss February, covers me from snow,
oh man, can she really blow.
Miss March, knows her wrong from right,
never had a ***** so **** tight.
Miss April, is a famous **** star,
she likes to take things a bit to far.
Miss May, gives me an all day smile,
all month long, we walk the mile.
Miss June, looks good in Daisy Dukes,
I'm waiting on the line of Bo's and Luke's.
Miss July, blows me a birthday kiss,
she likes to hold it while I ****
Miss August, wears a bikini thong,
then we smoke a big fat ****
Miss September, wears a back to school skirt,
not sure if she even owns a shirt.
Miss October, likes to trick or treat,
her body tastes oh so sweet.
Miss November, lets me fill her turkey with stuffing,
at first I thought she might be bluffing.
Miss December, likes to sit on my lap,
her sweet *** I like to slap.
I love, I love, I love my calender girls,
triplets with the youngest one in curls.
I love my calender, that hangs on my wall,
it makes my ***** stand so tall.
Even though it's all my imagination,
my train always leaves the station.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 8:25 PM UTC
Some people say I"ll love you until the day I die,
I say I'll love you long after I reach the sky.
I'll love you even after the whole world crumbles,
When dark is the day and the still night trembles.
I'll love you even when there is no hope,
You are my strongest will to cope.
When the world's oceans begin to capsize,
When the birds are not singing their soft lullabies.
And when there is no space, no time, just nothing
I'll still love you, and you know I'm not bluffing.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
Daylight fades too quickly
and leaves you struggling like a dead fish
against a time limit you have no intention
of keeping or realizing, in even a small fashion.
The money runs out.
The money always runs out and
everyone is looking for a handout
no one wants to give.
Especially those who can afford it-
it's like a void;
a golden density not even light can escape.
Makes me wonder; "Is the money really power,
or is power just power,
and the hierarchy and patriarchy and system
just keep whatever stains in place, despite their incompetence?"
History seems to provide ample answers to the right questions;
Why does the day feel so short?
Why does retail labor feel like a pyramid scheme?
Why does work feel like prison?
Why are employers so scared of unions?
Whatever, right? Those ******* would give you an answer
after three separate commercial breaks and a survey.
Everyone views the person under their foot as less than human.
It's how we're able to procreate and sleep at night
[a night that comes quicker every day now].
A curtain over a birdcage; we're all just dozing off.
******* around.
Studying everyone else's face,
looking for a nervous twitch to decipher
whose bluffing,
believing we're doing swimmingly in our own ********
The next generation built on our corpses, secrets and lies.
Corpses, secrets, and lies.
Let the world burn if we can make it past daylight.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
When I look in the mirror and I see nothing,
but they visualize the world in my curves
so I go with it.
I feel degraded, but their satisfaction somehow settles my nerves
more than I’ll ever admit.
There has to be something more than this,
but instead I’m stuck in a mutated bliss
that gives me less than a pinch of confidence,
which I savor as my self-significance...
...is this all I’m worth?
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 9:46 PM UTC
yeah, read an old poem again and remember sitting across a dark sticky table, pitcher of beer to wash down the fear of losing control. the guys told jokes - called them "brain droppings", like intellectual pigeon **** puked on the window - but i was fighting not to get lost in the patterns of condensed water pooling from sides of the pitcher, laughing on cue because it seemed the right thing to do. i counted bright flashes, blue, a neon sign - froggy's bar open - for clarity, my fingers still melting into pencils at fine edges of the discussion. i carried a notebook to write in but nobody noticed. i thought i was a poet.
green sat there, slack jaw acid jockey, dead eyed silent fish out of water. educated somewhere. not here. it was hot. i think he'd had too much magic mushroom or that black sticky stuff we smoked in the bathroom that made me choke like a dying newborn, or maybe the pale colored microdot collage on paper rolls we all shared at a concert hall earlier. the humidity.
cool, man - i quietly pined for some brown-skinned chick away at college, home again but still not calling, so i wanted to forget my own name and split in some dime bag fog when the sugar slipped out over my lips; i spit, he didn't, i drank. green was hungry, brain-fucked, out of time, dreaming about some key lime trees in florida, ogres in fairmount's forests, the dealers from new york who wanted to **** us, then gut laughed at something funny he saw in his sneakers. we hefted him by armpits to the stairs and left him there; it was too hot to walk all the way up to the flat's front door. green **** himself; we left. green, by any other name, got lost like smooth longhairs on motorbikes, that girl, the pretend hit men from uptown, none of whom ever cared who i was, because i wasn't really anywhere. but i didn't realize green could fly. it was a secret he'd left on the pavement outside. i'd wished i could fly like green. but he died. i'm still here, bluffing i'm living.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
I got the blues like James cotton and the crew
The blues in my hands
Like the crew and James c.o.t.t.o.n
Not like k.r.a.f.t
More like zatarains r.i.c.e
...A lonely mans meal
The blues
For crying out loud my ol lady left me
Every 5 minutes for 9 minutes
I cry without tears coming down my eyes
So no need for a bucket
My cheeks are dry
I cry through my trumpet
My cheeks are cramping
I cry so often and so long
The way in which my feet tap you can't tell that it's a sad song
I thought I would've Lost harmony when Monica left
But my harmonica explains the exchange of breaths going through my chest
Yet, blues explains my mood
On stage with my dudes
Audience in-tune with my news
The blues
I got the blues
Can you relate?
Did she escape?
No wonder why you're rapping and sagging
Bluffing and bragging
And your not huffing; puffing , and nagging
To get a case of the blues the love between the two once upon a time had to be true
I got the blues
And it's hard and complicated
I am strung like the guitar
...Observation!
There's no contemplation
Nor hesitation
I abandon my mentals
And create instrumentals
I got the blues
And to prove I have the bruise
Heartache and headaches
Allow me to groove
The blues, skies, teals, turquoises
No lies, tears nor voices
Real blues like fats, Percy , Ruth, king, archibald "stack-a-lee", hank Williams "nobody's lonesome for me"
The blues
My aching trombones
Drug free, but my bass is laced
I let my fingers rake
The blues
She don't know what she had
Hope that I can put down my flask
when I move on to jazz
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 6:49 AM UTC