"bootleg" poems
Extra Extra ...Read all about it!!!..The time for the righteous ***** is dead...You claim Your stature of limitations..But all you got is knowledge...Let me reconstruct the past...That the ones you preaching to don't see...Slavery...to share croppers.. to steal mill workers...Cotton pick en...to bootleg ‘en...to crack rock..slag ‘en...They got Aids from monkeys..So lets give it to all the monkeys..They know to much lets bury the smart ones under all the dummies...Rise up you righteous *** Shabazz..With more medals then Marcus Garvey...but this dispositions is thicker than the stash on Steve Harvey. Cuz the kids they love the Wiz...and all the green he smoke...Forget the yellow brick road...its these white bricks they see as Gold...But you so righteous with black power on Your bumper sticker...And so sweet that your water start to be thicker...then blood...with a hood that attack your own progression..You Been righteous for so long..with hope you feel depression..that you accuse your brother of mental retardation...urban gentrification...when he still live in the same house he did the year before...but you been moved to the east side on the top floor..You righteous *** ***** you been pronounced dead...back when them bombs hit over Bagdad...they waved the white flag..but you just made it easy...cuz you still so righteous...you done Got Fat, Turned Gay...and rallying for pride marches...Cuz you don’t know what else to do...your time is over..Them black cats use to be panthers, now you dress them up...and placed us all in a new minority...just to keep your righteous priority...Are You still looking East, or have you finally excepted the West..
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
***** girl. godly beast.
I couldn't be
one of those
beautifuls
if I pleased.
tribal bones stained
with European empirico
I am black death disease,
just human trash
that learned to read
& I believe bootleg genius
is being
massively reproduced
more cheaply & as we speak
is being weakened
so as to be spoon fed
to the cool kids.
yknow they
couldn't do it
by themselves.
never sweated.
laughed instead
yes
I seen em
inchin to the edge
but
I didn't
do anything about it.
I kinda feel guilty
cause I didn't
do anything about it.
It's just a ****** up
awful sound,
a whole generation
hitting the ground
at once.
Man. it really
puts things in perspective.
kinda makes you wonder
what's coming next.
medicine medley
ineffectual
malady infectious
witch hunt etiquette,
I think in pictures
disney depictions of
apocalyptic ****
yet to be decrypted
I rip myself to pieces
every day.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 5:36 AM UTC
It twas a chunk.
A bootleg papertowel, ziplock baggie, hairband combo
Allowed me to continue
Cutting and subsequently cooking
Perseverance? Check.
Being a bad ***** Check.
Maintaining a sense of humor while I'm gushing blood? Check.
Jamming 90s alternative rock with my nineteen year old brother? Check.
No ******* this time though..
He wouldn't allow such.
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
Nine wheel karma controller
Compact sleeveless button case
Oil deltoid combo
Metal magnet scrunchie spray
Bootleg leaf fret
Wick hunger limit
Tedious lantern bucket
Psychokinetic apple bubble
Intergalactic time space fraction
Anything immortal lost
Sleepless anxious toss
Divine magic water bodies
Healing wild birds
Extraterrestrial swimming fish
Fleeting nighttime children
Delightful new age beauty
Deep elemental menstrual cycles
Strong sight protection
Given soul story lessons
Clear Global God
Request practiced peace
Garden random physical reason
Humorous overwhelmed solution
Earth discovered on turtle
Used miraculous fact
Command locked paradise
Key kept love thirsty
Closely counsel deceased Master
Reaching for things not seen
Endless chaotic writing paper
Creating cool frog bog
Washed pilot sitting clean
Reaching things unseen
Wonder what all this means
Reaching unseen things
Feeling presence of other beings
Reaching for things unseen
Sleep walking in a dream
Reaching things unseen
Piecing together chaotic strings
Reaching unseen things
Hearing angels sing
While reaching for things not seen.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
Don't tell me to smile
Exhortations to "cheer up" will be ignored
You don't know how far you're stretching me, do you?
Your head still in the clouds of safety where imbeciles call out to each other
Listen. Listen, do
We're exploring the heaviest things in the world
Too heavy for Sysyphyus to haul
I'm that kid you can kind of see through
The one on the left corner
With the cool bootleg Pink Floyd t shirt wrapping his thin torso
He's got a box of Playboys beneath his nightstand and he's barely 14 years old
He reads and incorporates that garbage into his pre-adolescence behavior
With dreams of visiting Plato's
Retreat
Picking up some bunnies using some of the better Party Jokes
His expertise at 'lingus and 'latio are as well perfected as can be without having actually performed them
But he could sure bust out the ******* Philosophy and would have held his own with the old geezer who wrote it
But he was only 14 and nobody seemed impressed with the amount of ******* culture he'd consumed
They weren't letting him in the cluuuub
Your ****** right he didn't feel like smiling
But he wasn't bored
And he didn't feel too serious
He'd let it slide this time
*to be continued
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
rock smashes scissors
break our swords
Scissors cut paper
tear up our poetry
paper covers rock.
shielded by policy
we have our voices.
all rock, all scissor, all paper.
all spock, all lizard
we do not play games, we Speak.
We throw spock hands like Gang signs
spit parsel tongue at pride haters
we write love letters to revolution
We cut red tape with our long fuzes
Hit rock bottom, more bass in our
Voices than god knows what to do with
So we tell him exactlly where it should go.
Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock
They hold their pens like scissors
carving history books into erasure poems
We would swing our pens like swords.
But no leader we trust has been elected yet.
We would have a leader to guide us
But snakeoil salesmen plague our trenches.
There would be no snakeoil salesmen if
we had a stable government
We would have a stable government
but the stability was sharpied out of our history books.
And To history, loud voices sound
like the fires of god.
And are we not the voices with more bass then God knows what to do with.
without words on the wind,
There is no flame
so aren't we fire.
We all have tealights waiting in cold oven hearts.
stone hearths begging for Ignition
eager for bootleg promises of warmth
The orange rhetoric of our future
no warmer than tinders logo.
or a video recording of a fireplace
flickering on a flatscreen at best buy.
We are distracted constantly.
misdirected by Houses of paper cards
origami swans we don't dare unfold
Staying ignorant of the tire track liner inside.
origami swans are so much more beautiful
when they have secrets, right?
I have a matchstick
watch me strike it lit
flare this paper swan into a pheonix.
And hold it in my fist.
there will be fire.
and it will not be a metaphor
But It will be a revolution
And it will be a pheonix
and the pheonix WILL be a metaphor
The Rabbi at Temple Beth El
said when a mans consumed by gods fire
it is a severance from faith, a spiritual death.
what have we done
if not lost faith in our government?
Been consumed by the fires of god.
and why not tattoo pheonix feathers
on our backs?
at least this death gave us warmth.
a home in the world's ashes.
I stared at the dragons fire that stormed towards me
thanked it for the oppurtunity
to walk out of this world
holding dragons eggs
Like Daneris Tygareon
and they will be real dragons.
incubated by REAL fire
despite this crumbling cataclysm
you call a great america.
Spock handed Lizards larger and louder
with all the rocks
paper and scissors they need
to set the world on fire.
To Finally see something beautiful be born.
A Home that keeps them warm.
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 12:53 AM UTC
In a strange sort of way.
I've always wished that we've gotten together.
Be it a dream; that we would speak in hellos than good byes.
True love by means of evolvement.
Maybe I shouldn't think of you this way.
To bootleg myself in what I truly believe.
The hope of every possibility.
Your complex occupation.
To say what really matters.
To truly inspire in the midst of what we truly feel.
Consciously low key.
Eyes that take for granted that you'll always be there.
Maybe this is what I low key deserve.
Now knowing to be heard.
The difference between listen.
On another note.
I don't know.
I sort of always thought that would be fire.
To think of you as mine.
To hear the depth of truly knowing how free we are.
Our phones unlocked with complete sincerity, with us humbly mumbling somewhere in the background
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC
samanthasmit: Love you
you wanna come over at 10?
lol
me: sure
samanthasmit:
Yay!
Sent at 8:10 PM on Thursday
me: oh sorry, you misunderstood me. i meant to say "sure..." You know, sarcastically, like "sure...i'm gonna come over" (when pigs fly!)
samanthasmit: :(
me: I kid
samanthasmit: :|
Do you?
me: Yes of course
Sent at 8:17 PM on Thursday
samanthasmit: good :)
I think
lol
Sent at 8:18 PM on Thursday
me: what I really meant was "sure" in response to a bootleg jeopardy episode I'm watching on the internet. The clue was
"the best-selling bargain brand deodorant of the 1990s"
samanthasmit: haha
nice
but
t
ttt
I wannna sleep next to you
this is getting to be unhealty
Sent at 8:23 PM on Thursday
me: okay then sure, as in I'll come over at ten
Sent at 8:24 PM on Thursday
:))))
thats a millionz smiles
me: I see 5...wtf?!
Sent at 8:28 PM on Thursday
me: Or some guy standing beside his sombrero collection
samanthasmit: lol
They're just really tiny
me: or he has an extraordinarily large mouth
Sent at 8:31 PM on Thursday
samanthasmit: lol
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 7:21 PM UTC
My mother told me
Stay away
She'd make sure of it
I had to bootleg you
For my personal alcoholism
I couldn't imagine a life
Without you rushing
Spiking my blood
But you took that bottle
And smashed it on the counter
You didn't have to stick it
Through my lungs
For me to stop breathing
I sweat at night
Screaming your name
My hands shaking
The withdrawals kicking in
I chugged down the
Medication they gave me
To stop it from hurting
But it never did
And it became a cycle
Pill
Whiskey
Pill
Whiskey
Pill
Until the pain was
Gone.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 1:27 AM UTC
everybody got a big house
everybody got an acre
...at least
everybody got a 2 story
foyer
and a fancy staircase
...no lease!
everybody got a new car
everybody need a 2 car
everybody got a S--U--V
except for
you
and
me
'cause we live fancy free
we got our small house
we got our backyard
we got our big sky
so high
stars fly
we got our TV
it was a free-bee
we got our used car, a die-hard
but we don't drive far
not everybody is a bootleg
not everybody has a full keg
not everybody got a two legs
or even one leg to stand on
not everybody got a washer
not everybody got a dryer
and then you gotta have a friend
or at least a lot of quarters
and we've got family
like everybody
though many don't
we have our health
and that's enough
it's all the same stuff
life's one big cream puff
and we can choose
to win or lose
to binge or *****
no matter who's
got more of what
it's just enough.
and in all fairness
with this awareness
we have all this
and so much bliss
we shouldn't brag
and much less rag
whose got it rough
and all that stuff...
it's just enough
more than enough
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
Not ever'body got a big house
not ever'body got an acre
not ever'body got a two story foyer
and a fancy staircase
Not ever'body got a new car
not ever'body need a two car
not ever'body got an S-U-V
don't know 'bout you, but me
we're livin' fancy free
We got our small house
we got our backyard
we got our big sky
so high
stars fly
we got our TV
it was a free-bee
we got our die-hard used car
and we don't drive far
not ever'body got a gold egg
not ever'body got a bootleg
not ever'body got a full keg, two leg or a peg to stand on
not ever'body got a washer
not ever'body got a dryer ....
not anybody gonna read this stuff and feel any higher...
just saying...
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
When I wake up in the morning
Your the first thought in My mind
Looking at you Sometimes I feel lost in Time
I haven't loved someone in a very long time
But when I look at you My closed heart unwinds
I think about letting you in and Just the thought
helps my cracked heart to mend Love I once decided
I wouldnt be in again but What I feel for you Is becoming more
than a friend. Wanna know a secret I have actually thought about
Loving you and us being together and when I do turns My sad stormy
life into good weather. When we hug I feel tingly all over I love laying under you and holding you closed cuz baby you make me so happy but
aye im not tryna boast. But I feel your still hung up on on ur ex but baby let me help u forget about rest I can show u how ur supposed to
be treated not sum bootleg Love So let me in your heart and just have trust I know we can make it So lets see where we end up given lots of time maybe just maybe in Love
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 5:57 PM UTC
Strange spells wafted
through the marketplace,
a mixture of sweat,
manure & spices,
it was too weird.
The shopkeepers seemed edgy,
their black eyes darted
around like water bugs
driving hovercrafts.
A baker sold
outdated batteries
& fixed junk cars.
There were jars
of unknown
foodstuffs
behind the counter.
I wasn't buying ****
just looking around
without making sounds,
Jesus, it was rough.
Bootleg DVD's
were piled sky high
at many of the shops,
along with the Pop CD's.
A burqa'd woman crouched
in an alleyway.
I'm still not sure
what she was doing,
but it didn't look right.
I swear to God,
I'd have never visited this
bizarre bizaar
if it wasn't for this fight,
the war on terror.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
Strolling through life with my
Eyelids clinched shut
For my vision failed my heart in the past.
See because my last,
Was a cheap bootleg of a man
For at first glace he looked like the perfection of romance.
His words rolled off tongues between soft lips of lies
That kissed gently the ends of his deceit
Crossing all his t’s and dotting all his i’s.
His actions some how stuck in repeat.
Never show up, wont return calls, and then gift her with affection
Just so her mindset of going into another direction
Won’t reach her feet.
The memo to run away before another night of tearful eyes
That info never reached the logical part of the brain for she
Was too overwhelmed that this one clamed love.
The idea was beyond horizons of pride for swallowing
True beliefs she remained his main
Chick. Fell in love with the idea she was the one he came home with.
When in light she was just his midnight hype.
Somehow wrong felt oh so right.
He knew her love was beyond that wifey type
But he couldn’t stay faithful for more than the nights
He lay in between her vision of everything.
Love notes she read in repeat just to somehow hold onto a boy that
Would never amount to the love from a man.
She tripped and found love again but this time
Her eyes wont be the one to blame
Maybe this time things will have a chance since this one holds
More than the age of an honest man.
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 3:12 PM UTC
I feel like taking a tab of acid
and disappearing
to town in my worn suit.
Buskers bathe in the eternal winter,
clamouring sounds at passers-by
until Jericho falls in on itself,
money spilling out of its sides
like a fast food waiter
on his cigarette break.
Trawling through the record shops,
I feel as if I've travelled through time;
each bootleg, a manuscript,
each seven-inch, a sonnet.
Pulling fingers through Venetian sounds,
I have found my place
in the library of New Alexandria.
The pigeons are swollen at the ankles.
Like humans, they are losing height
at the promise of another meal,
at another chance to rifle through the crumb.
School kids are waiting for the bus
as I go walking past.
They're unaware of the ease of tread
they have over land,
unaware of how quickly it can fall
and the scathing jealousy
I feel for each of them.
In eyes wet and wide, I turn to go home,
I walk in the rain, before settling for the bus
and returning to that familiar, lofted view
of the world passing by through a maniac's eyes.
It is only then that the world shifts in focus
and lotus flowers crop up through the carpet,
the world outside has grown far too unreal,
to the point hallucinating makes sense of it all.
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
It’s not something that I need
Just something that I know
When did I become so comfortable
With being miserable?
I know how this goes,
It works until it stops working.
And this time I had a pretty good run.
But no matter what I do,
It never feels like enough.
I know where I am,
I’ve been here before.
I didn’t think I would again
But this is the result of letting things get of out hand
It gets the better of me
And it’s so easy
To slip, and activate this cycle
While it’s so difficult,
To do what is best:
Follow the steps.
I don’t want to continue meeting dead ends.
Having to always begin again.
And again, and again, and again.
The best medicine is something I’ve already done.
At this time, it’s not an available option.
Though it would probably be the best
Rather than this mess:
A homemade version of recovery I’ve created.
The bootleg copy
Not even left over’s, just crumbs.
Something equivalent to a Band Aid applied on a broken bone.
Tonight I chose healthy coping.
Process everything through journaling.
Funny how
How pain brings out
The best insight;
Sometimes the best of what I write.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
Rock and roll on the car radio
Locking lips to crack the code that holds your soul
Brain frozen, bouncing to and fro
Somewhere between your sweet and cold tone
I love you and your voice and
Your lies and all your poison
But now I think you made it clear, you
Transform me into something
Else, I know that you've become in-
-toxicating lunacy
You were Moonshine,
Everything good that I thought to be mine
Walking around under the shadow of 10 o'clock,
We went dancing like we're crazy
You were my Moonshine
Every little sin that will stay for a while
Walking around under the influence,
Luminescent, I'm lit by the
Bootleg love in the back of a city
Drowning in self pity
I hate how you look pretty,
pretty far,
pretty far over me.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 12:45 PM UTC
The coyotes are loud tonight
And Bob Dylan’s burning bright
In the backs of my eyes tonight
And Mama, you been on my mind tonight
But a boy
Even more so
Who hums the blues
In bed with his girl
It is forceful
How he breaks into my mind
When I’m alone
And cold at night
And the coyotes starve so loud tonight
Calling for their mama
The moon
And right on cue
I hear you singing the blues
Next to me in bed
And the computer glows
Along with us
Howling Dylan at the moon
Dying in my footsteps
How I loved those vibrant blues
Lying togetherseparate
In your room
That was so many tonights ago
The coyotes are so proud outside my window
I wonder what they’ve killed
And I hope you’re humming Dylan
Far away
I am thinking of you still
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 3:45 PM UTC
ya know somethin'
writtin' poetry
kinda makes
your mouth
water and
then
i just
wanna
take
a few
sips of
this
bootleg fire-water
johnny-white-lightning
whiskey over here
you know
down yonda
hell yeah
you know what
what i'm
talkin'
'bout
anyway
the mighty spirits
help me
rejuvenize
the equilibrium
immensly
thus in the creative
proccess of poetry writtin'
Lord help me please
cause i know
i got da right stuff
now aint dat da truth
yeah you so crazy
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
“ what would you say to someone who gave up on you if you had a chance? “
Id probably say that “if i had to choose a word to describe how I feel about you, it would be ‘disappointed’. I would’ve never given up on you and I did all I could to make you happy. But for many reasons, you gave up on me. It may appear that I’m confused about all of this but as much as I hate to say it, there’s a part of me that understands why. And I respect your decision. The fact that it wasn’t the right time. I was willing to fight for you. It breaks my heart to know that you weren’t. But, I love you and I want you to be happy. I guess I need to let you go, so I could find someone who actually wants to fight for me. And no, I’m not writing this to win you back. But to be honest, I don’t know if I want to be with you anymore. If you were so quick about giving up on us once, I’m sure you would do it again. So for now, goodbye. And I’ll be missing you.”
Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 10:49 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
loving how your feeling when you look at me.
memories of you my eyes can't unsee.
special like the woods that we use to run in.
emotions felt sturdy when we were just friends.
it hurt so bad when you left me now.
I couldn't get you back,not even somehow.
did you get enough of me, but not feel nothing.
you're glad you turned your back on something.
/
Especially when your not the one
I find attractive,
I'm stuck beyond two souls and a cracked
Giant boulder, captive,
The eye of the beholder,
Watch me fall for something quite older,
Even in line of being lost is progression,
I hardly got the message,
The ice is really thick but it melts quite quick,
And your time runs out,
Now the fires are lit,
And you've wondered what you missed,
In your life,
Is it right?
It was never wrong,
You'll do anything for i-tunes songs, but you,
Just bootleg them,
Lost and found , like soul collective,
Oil color with prospective,
You're an artist not retrospective.
Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017 at 12:57 PM UTC
Professors with professions listen on the sidelines to my cryptic confessions like I'm still under the lineage of the plane papacy taking note of my blank boredom.
Don't even know if I deserve to saint this message.
Look warm,
they'll think you're a sky walker,
be hot they'll think you're an odd joker,
cause these days there's no truth to bat an eye on,
Even christians bail on the touchy topics,
I too would rather travel the tropics,
But we can't piece up the peace in these last days.
It's a relative subjective river that you can choose to glide on.
Why do foolish ants labour to protest works?
Perhaps it's a minor issue and we're digging too deep.
Perhaps the devil's wearing denims down with bootleg discussions,
that bow out but never stand in the gap,
Perhaps there are finer issues like my blessings.
Perhaps everyone will eventually find their way.
One man for himself...
I used to pray for mercy,
then I'd pray to messi,
It's like now I prey for merces,
distractions and direction,
promises of perfection,
leave me licking lumps of wounds that the leaven left.
We all want to hear something new,
twerk the message and please the pew.
I can feel the Ichabod as the teaching scratches my ears.
Can a name be enough?
Can a call really save?
Or is it just a ploy to keep the black man a slave?
- nyant
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
Me: *Has a test tmorrow that I still have to study and homework for 6 subjects that I still have to do.
Also me: *Decides to watch an entire DEH bootleg at 22:45
And then we're wondering why my grades are so bad
Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 4:46 PM UTC
Allow me to consider boots
that accessory that fits the foot
beginning where the others start
moving on to higher realms
with a heel or lacking same
it’s the height that brings the bling
no matter the material’s type
exaltation is the game
not demur like other shoes
the practical is job one
protecting feet from the world
I put this aside in lurid thoughts
extending from the floor to knee
when the **** is fully seen
don’t stop until the joint is met
by the top of the bootleg
the calves will have another day
to strut their stuff on full display
at this moment they concede
the need to prance a fetish theme
now my thoughts have arrived
at the point where I may not lie
adoration of the footwear
is predilection I now share.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181221.
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 2:20 PM UTC