"blunders" poems
Our nation is a father
Who spends sons unwisely
Wasting their wonder
On warrior blunders
In nations swelling pride
We see our children
Committing suicide
Honor bound to pursue
Patriotic truths
If mothers ran the world
Would it all be better
Or would maternal malice
Malform modern intent
Blue eyes telling lies
Of war and all its’ glories
Grey hair sitting there
In old reclining lawn chairs
Celebrating fantastic stories
But I know the lives lost
Were not always spent wisely
Were not always sacrificed justly
Why does it feel like no one else sees
Have I become Don Quixote
Fatherland motherland
Better planned
Would be brotherhood
And sisterhood
All that love spent for the good
Like this poem
We have lost our way
Perhaps better stanza
Will return the wisdom
Of our better sages
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
Sometimes, looking at you in the light of the kitchen I want
to run a finger
Down the length of your nose but
I know you'd wrinkle it, and shake your head citing a tickle, but kiss behind my shoulder as soon
As I turn away
When my feet make ice pools in the bed
Toes accidentally brushing your ankle and you **** abruptly, but upon hearing
My sigh, trap them back with your ankles til, martyr that you are, I'm engulfed in
Warmth at your
Expense.
Sometimes the last trickle of milk is mine, for the coffee,
Silent with your eyes smiling fondly, you look on as I sip, resolutely stirring powdered
Dead baby souls into mug as substitute.
Even damp smelly socks
Greasy hair
Neurotic tears and
Intellectual rambling epiphanies
Even childish blunders, fudging the
Budget or burning the toast
You still call me fond Things.
And love Me.
The most.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
It's a still morning, quiet and cloudy
the kind of grey day I like best;
they'll be here soon, the little kids first,
creeping up to try and frighten me,
then the tall young men, the slim boy
with the marvellous smile, the dark girl
subtle and secret; and the others,
the parents, my children, my friends —
and I think: these truly are my weather
my grey mornings and my rain at night,
my sparkling afternoons and my birdcall at daylight;
they are my game of hide and seek, my song
that flies from a high window. They are
my dragonflies dancing on silver water.
Without them I cannot move forward, I am
a broken signpost, a train fetched up on
a small siding, a dry voice buzzing in the ears;
for they are also my blunders
and my forgiveness for blundering,
my road to the stars and my seagrass chair
in the sun. They fly where I cannot follow
and I — I am their branch, their tree.
My song is of the generations, it echoes
the old dialogue of the years; it is the tribal
chorus that no one may sing alone.
7.6k
We, the people of this country, in your eyes are:
babblers, bachelors, bafflers, baiters, barkers,
beakers, beaters, brawlers, blamers, beggars,
bloaters, bloopers, bombers, boozers, blunders,
bruisers, bafflers, bluffers, burglars and burners.
That's why you feel compelled to keep your foot on our heads
keep us down, put us down, push us down
subjugate us, belittle us, berate us.
We, the people of this country, in our eyes are:
butlers, bouncers, bakers, buyers, barbers,
cake-makers, delivery-takers, cocktail-shakers,
taxi drivers, cancer survivors, employers and hirers,
music makers, entertainers, window washers, foster takers,
plasterers, carpenters, scaffolders, sparks and builders,
boxers, carers, coaches, tailors, shoe makers,
designers, illustrators, multi-language facilitators,
dog walkers, dog trainers, bikers and cycle couriers,
doctors and nurses and all the emergency services.
We are the People, the reason you are where you are now
you sometimes forget that we exist as people, somehow
locked in your ivory towers with gold plated showers
and MP expenses and investment banker pretenses
this is not theater, its real life drama, its not just a bluff
its time to stand up
and say enough is enough.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
I hear thunder
*No you don't,
The voices in your head
want some more*
You're lying!
I am aware of my blunders.
I can hear thunder!
*No, you can't
you're just deaf
and without a plan*
You're just inviting trouble
Everyone is trying to hurt me.
My only defence is the thunder
I hear it. I feel it. Zeus loves me.
Mountains tremble in fear.
He is ready with his bolt.
It's a message
you don't see it
yet
but when thunder shakes the ground
you shall hold your breath.
*Talk about Hermes, Apollo
and everyone else.
The thunder shall do us no harm.
Olympus was never safe.
Aphrodite knows how to sell her body
There will be war, my friend.
The titans will rise.
Kronos will escape from Tartarus
and attack in stealth.*
You dummkopf,
you have no idea what you have been talking
Don't argue over Father of God's bolt!
God of the skies.
Traveling by air? You might die.
Poseidon can make your way back difficult
This behaviour of yours was very typical.
*You ignore your mind when it plays tricks on you
Oh dear, you really are a fool*
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
resuming vogon poetry
altering website logos
pretending everyone cares
playing "east hastings"
asphyxiating well-nigh denouement
depicting twitter status
obfuscating coincident deletions
translating from Sḵwx̱wú7mesh
assuring Sḵwx̱wú7mesh exists
painting skwiḵw's mother?
decrying micropolitical maelstrom
imbibing fireball fountain
inundating lexical foofaraw
crafting poetic wonders
desiring other mediums
remaining practically invisible
ending internet-only depression
drafting noetic blunders
requesting astute clique
blazing perilous trail
aging ominous grisaille
depicting kmart realism
seeking darker groups
increasing pre-weekend laughter
appropriating communist symbols
making lone chuckle
offending worldwide communists
colonizing hello poetry
colonizing parallel universe
relaxing e-migration policies
пить чистую водку
photographing abduction scene
¿losing consistent format?
increasing bluebird insignia
avoiding frivolous legalities
striking astraphobic comments
assuming near-universal automation
lowering latent inhibition
traversing oneiric plane
laxwadding afebrile loodies
wallscaping pitchsourced chthonicities
closing one-star conveniences
sharing alien-looking alphabet
writing system downtimes
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Crawling down the streets
on pouring rain
darkness cares of creeps
hovering their pain
the lamp post on their niche
thunder blunders a hit
to an abbey
where we used to meet
with white lane trails
and colored vales
a flashback in memory lane
Time used to stop and stare
for a while
to vanish the pain, I bare
and look a step back
from the mile
There...
were we used to melt away
from cones of treats
and giggled from candies
we barely eat
with swirling clouds in play
gazing our hearts
in the moss of grass, we lay
Then a change led you to leave
you cared nothing
but your selfish greed
anxiously I gave all of Me
but just to realize
you gave nothing of thee
As I die
a sign in my heart reside
an echo awakening
a brave woman, a reborn rite
with wiped away tears
and faking leers
she flaunts out her pain
A brave woman
brave enough to begin again
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 12:04 PM UTC
Sleepy, sleepy, sleepy girl
Creepy, creepy little miss
You barely get by
You never cry
Or is that just some planned out lie?
Little Bubble; she babbles and blunders.
Full of wonder; she's falling under.
Fender ****** she'll blend the rubble.
Bent up rebel, don't fall under.
Cryptic Mystery.
Listen to My Story.
Get by on Misery.
(It's a Mystery,
But it's My story)
Listen to Misery.
Sleepy, sleepy little lady
Losing grip.
Don't lose your mind,
Your kind mind.
You're Lying.
Crying. Dying. Sleeping.
Creeping away.
Strife.
Sleeping away your Life
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 3:58 AM UTC
It's funny how people see us,
for all that we never were.
All our blunders seem to define us,
as if that's all we ever were.
They see lost potential,
Grieving, that I've lost my only way.
All the things that I could've been,
if only I hadn't been led astray.
They say I lost my way,
I got pulled away by the tide.
Yet I reply smiling gratefully,
my head held up by all my pride:
I lost my way ,
Oh yes, I did,
I lost my way and found it back,
time and time again.
But once, I lost it forever,
I finally found myself.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
My mother is like a lightbulb,
She makes her mistakes
She burns and she brightens
And then she breaks.
-
My mother is like a lightbulb
She brightens the room
But make no mistake,
She can darken one too,
-
My mother is like a lightbulb
She blunders and cries
But don't think she's harmless
It's a well crafted disguise
-
But regardless of it all
Someone gets hurt
Palms are cut open
And fingers are burnt
-
And yet,
my mother is unlike a lightbulb,
Because broken lightbulbs
are replaced.
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 1:45 PM UTC
i can never love you the way i claim — delicately and without violence. i remember hating flowers and broken seashells, and my grandmother, hand-sewing pastel dresses. deep down, my bones are raised on stories of ancient wars and biblical battles carried from memory to memory, a string of generational blunders — i am made of my father's bitterness and my mother's denial. so i will love you with corruptions and apologies, with bled-out veins, giving in like an emptied river, with all the poems i have read and forgotten, and with everything that makes me finitely human.
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 12:05 AM UTC
Oops, D'oh, Oh My God!!!!
I see you shake your head, yell at yourself and kick the ***
You beat your brains out
And wonder how
You made that mistake.
Mistakes that cost you hopes and dreams
Mistakes that fell heavily on your parade
Look here-Relax, you're with us.
We're all prone to epic blunders from time to time.
We all have stories long filled with stupid mistakes.
Better we make mistakes than fake perfection
A wise man learns from his blunders,
An even wiser man learns from others'.
They help us grow
Whether good or bad, we've learned.
Along the road of progress, we go.
Everyday, there are new mistakes to make.
Don't be afraid to take risks,
Take that leap
Make mistakes
Mistakes-they are guaranteed; we'll make another one tomorrow.
Mistakes-we make them and sometimes, they make us.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 8:21 PM UTC
Inside your little mouth, a crucifix and a hula hoop plant great capers on the short hash marks on your glossy pinkish lips. Like a boardgame I can't win all by myself or a song without a tune, like the melody that chases strangers, or any words that precede goodbye.
The future is coming quickly now, serfs lining up to set fire to their nostrils, take the cue ball and whet their mass wicks for the apostles. Anecdotal anomaly that J-walk over crosswalks whose life then becomes an apostrophe. Morbid fixture on the substrate, creatures limitlessly nodding. A grape-sized egg fills its own unit and erupts to shape the outlet. Your verb-legs may appear demonstratively while you crowd surf, we should play the music louder while we practice all our dance work.
Sunday morning we wake up stiffly, my jowl hurts from mouthing softwords, the nights' adventurous perversity of thwarting dinosaurs with Cobra Starship. Even the back room closet manager gave us enough bleach to see our eyelids, frothy nictitating flitters drop freshly severed lashes that inspire wishes and sultry playlists.
Consecrated mien market of company meals. Underneath the cable cars the dye blunders sores in my eyes. Said I had to go, said I had to die. Said I had an itch but I couldn't get in front of all of this and unwind. Between all of the bees and buttered flies he made it hard for us all to survive, or service this state of our lives. I recall schoolyards where children paid to their dimes for us to see the spaces in the middle of lines, the circles on the circles we liked, stuck in bubble baths with crayon all on their hands. For the price of staying alive I deliver a bribe to sway eyes from the crimes of street dwelling inner-city sinners with stomach contents' upsetted by the rough ********* of heavy petting. She eats red licorice rope with with my fingers rubbing on her tongue. A pedagogy I use to teach, but pretty much no longer have a use.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
All I know is monsters
All I see is a cold world that gets darker as the *** stir's
The future blurs to a point its so obscure it's not yours
Can't seem to stop words from causing me to go backwards
Maybe I need to go back and relearn like toddlers in diapers
There's no cures
All the fibers of my being are withering away like dead flowers
Retreating like cowards
The more I try the worse I fail, a living hell, crunch the numbers
I've done the math, a chalk board full of blunders
Nightmares occurring with my eyes wide shut
It's more then a rut
A candidate to win? Nope, I have a losing ballot
No safety blanket and no bright colors on my pallet
Hollow and cryptic
Revisit the past like I'm stuck to it with a rivet
This isn't just unfortunate it's inadequate
Chew off my arm to be free or just cannibalistic
Can I even resist it?
This dark army that I have enlisted
For to long happy never even existed
And you wonder why I tend go ballistic...
Man, *** this $hit!
©2018
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 12:39 AM UTC
Out of the noise of tired people working,
Harried with thoughts of war and lists of dead,
His beauty met me like a fresh wind blowing,
Clean boyish beauty and high-held head.
Eyes that told secrets, lips that would not tell them,
Fearless and shy the young unwearied eyes —
Men die by millions now, because God blunders,
Yet to have made this boy he must be wise.
2.4k
Rabbit tracks in the snow
padded foot, here we go:
Found beside a lake,
far away for you to seek.
Festivities of the fastidious,
i was all but oblivious.
Promising frostiness,
the air, alit and aglow.
Bombarding me
quietly
with parallelism,
banging noiselessly
off the fire
of the morning sunshine.
Mollified, the world
stirs in its lack of commotion.
Meek blunders of the fortnight,
i wish to forego.
My star,
faded from the sky.
You are
what brings me high.
I will
be with you,
upon
the epoch of
tomorrow’s
morn, come nigh.
Dec 10, 2011
Dec 10, 2011 at 4:12 PM UTC
I can be your liquor.
Drink me down and feel the high.
Its you and I and whatever happens tonight.
The blurred lines and the euphoric fright
of getting into all of our passions.
I can be your liquor.
Fill you up with anger, disgust.
The feelings lost to the alcohol distrust.
The forgotten happy with I and lust
now in the midst of solving our problems.
I can be your liquor.
When its winter, spring, summer.
I can be that go to spirit to hear your thunder.
That happy go lucky, feelings without the blunders
Only memories that follow.
I can be your liquor.
Take me down and love me.
I can be the death of you,
or merely just an addiction.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC
A compound
Of exact weight
You need to refurbish
A statue
Releasing the dreams
In senses
Inspired by the travels
Of blunders revolving
By mistakes to find fault
Just in case
Feeling of pleasure is null
As the world weighs hollow
To a ****** manifestation
Upon my very eyes
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 11:34 PM UTC
In a drunken stupor the widow lies awake
As she waits quietly for dawn to swiftly break
As the trumpet hums its chords and loudly plays
I can't even look at
Where he lay
Kicked from the infantry and stripped of my gun
For knowing that a victory is never truly won
I scoff at the thankful and their euphoric praise
I can't even look at
Where he lay
One must submit to chaos to birth a dancing star
But to walk a narrow path's to swim a pool of tar
We are merely blunders made by our own mistakes
And you want me to look at
Where he lay?
Now I'm fully intact but I don't give a ****
Misfortune casts its shadow a deity so grand
I follow my moonlight's eternal haze
It won't let me look at
Where he lay
It won't let me look at
Where I lay
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 2:49 AM UTC
*"Oh my, I don't feel
that I can go on much longer.
These old man's heels
have in the past been stronger. "*
And then,
down a black Hole
to seek the last truth;
defeating blunders of mind,
but too long in the tooth.
And then,
back out, returning to the open.
Auburn leaves beneath lie still.
Wind stirs, orange spirals woven.
"It's a universal fractal spill."
And then,
*"Recursive, it's recursive;
my whole existence has thrived.
One end is subversive,
the other end is contrived."*
And then,
the black Hole opens wide,
******* grabbing, attracting--
uncontrived, unaware of requite.
One old soul the Hole is extracting.
And then,
...
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 11:59 AM UTC
In the depths of your minds I wander
in red and black I saunter
from your fiery hot desires I stay
to fullfill your fantasies, so I play
In my minds eye I wonder
do I exist in a world from lascivious blunders
Or am I just that.....
an empty mind and soul
exist only for your salacious cold.
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 5:53 PM UTC
Mushrooms
And our lives really are
nicely shaped
primitive blunders
filtered and fashioned
out of that dream sense
you always speak of
And the world
still holds tight
we sit still staring
motionless at the ground
layered twirling and
shifting beneath us
Until the dust
this golden speechless dust
its ghostness enough
to rise up cloudy into my red skin
Your red skin getting finer
even more crystallized
than those bright blue veins
We are worlds turned upside down
newer than this
world of psychedelic rocks
Ancient trees
stare at us
chess pieces
the tumbling ground
filling now with infinite prairies
and valleys and dancing sand dunes
Does it hurt sometimes?
losing to the thoughts of turning back
comes close to blindness
sometimes this fading clarity
breathing and sighing
I close my eyes enough
now to feel the throbbing sun
absorb me
I'm awake
I remember
Jake Mahaffey
Copyright (c) 2013 Jacob Mahaffey
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
in my veins, these fiery flames, irritate like grains of forgotten names
call me insane, but at least I maintain composure and refrain from strangling myself deranged
even tho im convoluted, completely diluted and secluded from this polluted brainless blue ***
i can't shake these blunders of wonders that wake me from my slumbers and asunder like lightening after thunder
why is this society, full of variety, stuck on the wrong types of proprieties? to feed your satiety? to reach your notoriety?
continue to lie to me. stream the feed on live t.v. the glamour of no individuality. convincing there's something wrong with me.
straight faced frugality. absolutely no morality.
they feed on the weak. while they silently weep. "beauty doesn't come cheap, so take the leap! buy now and don't be unique!"
******* grotesque! I'd rather rip my heart outta my chest than ingest that wretched mess.
"beauty" is born not molded and formed from biohazard waste and paste. hows that plastic taste while you constantly baste your neighbors in hate.
I can't wait til the day you meet fate.
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 6:34 AM UTC
The routine sun rose
Sinking thinking
A swollen scene of city wonder
Small color blunders bleed the jungle dry
But I try
And that's something the camaraderie sighs at
But still with that fact,
I go.
Faux lives carriage by
Made of paper, made of dimes
Teenage crimes can supply felicity
IN public SIMPLICITY.
Omit apperception moreover audition:
Copy and paste the taste you had when you were young and drag it to oblivion.
for the eventual:
the sensual isn't essential
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 4:45 AM UTC
Excuses Excuses...
So MANY EXCUSES... !!!
For The Type of Looseness...
That Has Embraced NOOSES... !?!
EXCUSES For THIS...
EXCUSES For THAT...
EXCUSES For Plans...
That Have CORRUPTED Man...
BAD EGGS In The Batch... !!!
Where Policeman Are Hatched... !!!
Oh YES Bad Eggs INDEED... !!!
Is How RACIST Cops Be...
When RACISM Feeds...
Their Motives On Streets...
And In Turn How They Deal...
When They’re Using Their Knees... !!!
And Using Their... GUNS...
Like These Tasers That Stun... !!!
And Choke Holds That DON’T... !!!!!
When They Leave People COLD... !!!
Excuses UNFOLD...
Even When They Are Shown...
To Move... So Much SICKER...
Than Those Known As KILLERS... !!!
Excuses Come QUICKER...
Than Confession Sinners... !!!
Because of Protection...
These Bad Eggs Be Getting...
From Those Who NEED VETTING... !!!
BEFORE They Pass Sentence... !!!!!
These Excuses I Mention...
Are Those With DEFECTIONS... !!!
That Need REAL CORRECTION...
That’s Neutral And... CENTRED... !!!
Like... Natural Selection... !!!
There Are Others That SMOTHER...
...... Historical Blunders...... !!!
Like Those Now UNCOVERED...
About... CERTAIN Brothers...
Who Sold Their Own Mother’s... !?!
For... Colonial Masters...
A... FACTUAL DISASTER...
That’s Been So Well Plastered...
That EXCUSES Run Talk...
That IS STUPID And FLAWED... !!!
When It Comes To The Past...
And YES... Slavery Paths... !!!
You See Some EXCUSES...
Breed... MORE THAN Denial... !!!
They Hold Certain Files...
That Are TRULY OBSCENE...
Within... Black History... !!!
Like Those Now EXPOSED...
About... Certain White Folks...
Who’ve Earned Money For Shows...
With... BLACKFACE Videos...
And RACIST Themed JOKES... !?!
That Are FORCING These Peeps...
To Make... APOLOGIES...
As If They Will CLEAN...
Their Slates With Black Peeps’... ?!?
And Of Course Yes EXCUSES... !!!
For Things They’ve Been Doing...
That Lacked... Racial Prudence...
So Just Like The Others...
These Excuses PROVE LOOSENESS...
Is Something That Humans...
Exude In Their Movements...
And In... CERTAIN CHOICES...
That Have Done MORE Than POISON... !!!
Yes... HUMANITY... !!!
When... ACCOUNTABILITY...
Is What NEEDS To INCREASE... !!!
Because These FALLACIES...
Are What Make Some Heads Feel...
That It’s Best To... "Conceal"...
Themselves Behind LIES...
And... FRAUDULENT Deeds... !!!
And The Need To Keep Choosing...
To AVOID Being TRUTHFUL...
Instead of Indulging...
... In All These...
......... “ EXCUSES “....... !!!
Sep 18, 2020
Sep 18, 2020 at 2:21 AM UTC