ChloKoo Nov 2010

A hot hot shower after a cold cold snow
Two arms holding you tightly and refusing to let you go
Be the be the be to bop the bop
Nuzzling with man's best friend and stirring up the trouble
It is quite fun living inside your very own bubble
Be the be the be to bop the bop
Filter with my Brita, lean with my shoulder
Let time pass you slow, as you grow older
Be the be the be to bop the bop
Watch the sun set, sleep when the sun rises
Beat the shit out of Mr. Piñata to win the colorful prizes
Be the be the be to bop the bop

bucky Sep 2014

guess you shouldve thought about that
before you broke your mothers back,huh,sweetheart?

in my anthology that will probably never be published this and vol 1 go right next to each other so people see the contrasting lengths (~841 words vs 14. yes)
Cecil Miller Sep 2015

Is it love or is it lies?
Perhaps both, or neither,
Inflamed by need,
Quenched by self,
Swollen with desire.
Imagination fans the fire
Until the floorboards creak outside my door
- Then I brink for her no more.

She-bob, he-bop, a we-bop
Lizzie Jun 2016

listening to your playlists
realizing its impossible to forget you

M Clement Dec 2012

My fingers
My wrists

I can feel the energy leaving my arms
As if there's nothing left to write.
It can't be true; however,
that there's nothing left to write

There's got to be something

That got dark fast.

I could write something,
I think I have the energy
But what to write about?

Jasmyn 'Ladi J' Jun 2013

Bop City
A place where we can go to be free
Jus like when the slaves were freed and changed their last name to Freeman you can be anyone
Free from the white mans values
Nappy hair cuz black is beautiful
If Straight hair isn't ur natural texture then maybe you have a self image problem cuz God made ur hair that way so why change it
Weaves best believe are shackles to the way u think u should view yourself
Big lips cuz they are better and cool down your food
Oh and don't forget better to kiss with
Realize y'all that bop city is not a myth
It can be a real place where we don't have to live up to these European standards
Just because we were born here doesn't nullify the fact that we were stolen to get here
We gotta stop being so chained by what others want us to be
Man we all kno Jesus was of some type of color
We all kno that we all came from the same place
We all kno that we are moving towards all looking the same
Or do you?
So why do we continue to be maimed  and not understand that we are jus as good as everyone else
We got so caught up in freedom that we forgot about bop city
Giving the cold shoulder making it really chilly
So please my people come back to bop city
It's happening over here
Dancing all night
Libations leading to many sensations
Cultivation of one nation under God...color invisible and justice for all  
Bop city

Anthony Williams Jul 2014

The lining of my grey suit
sparkles like it can't tear itself
from the stars full of secret passions
which belt my skin hugging eyes
to strokes of gentle smooth
back handed compliments
tightly lingering on your waist
while imaginary boutonnières
are pressing comfortably into ribs
feeling you pinch my collar
and tug towards its button hole
open to curl a whispered flower
tight enough to pin my breast pocket heart
against moving from your own
pressing loveliness

It's no surprise when you shock
my circadian rhythms out of sleep
sending me to bed at the most opportune
time's tales stalling the early hours
to wet my dry lips on doubles
of Bombay Sapphire gin
blue skies
stirred into a Campari soda aperitif
red as all round sunsets
going down on a burning gold mine
melting the ice cube universe above it
into the trailing edge of your light path

As if the cult of comet Hale-Bopp
had returned from Heaven's Gate
in the form of an insomniac priestess
landing craft crushes gone rampant
as it heads for a melting Icelandic glacier
crashing like a bouncing ball
in rolled up sheets
sliding to a temporary stop
scrunched around your hair
shaking the doubts of the day
out like a cascading highlight
rushing into the shadows
and on to tremulous scalding streams
brushing my shirt stripes apart

thoughts like magnetic locks jolted
into releasing dark bright conflict
to see where gasps could bite
without spilling tears of poisonous scalding
hot from wells dug deep in fissured oases
trying to bury hands with cupped fingers
impatient to splash in your wake
and unpack those mirrored thumbs
dug into well sprung geyser like palms
leaning hard on the prison walls of the night
like off duty guards

letting down their punishment roughly
until disappearing through wide open eyeshadows
as startled as rabbits caught escaping
by a searchlight wanting to skin them alive
and throw them under a sheet
covered in burrowed tunnels of love
to emerge the other side neatly redressed
in grey morning suits and starshine eyes

by Anthony Williams
Anna Lo Feb 2012

i wonder if i should embrace the life expectancy of a snail slime-ing away
along the sidewalk,
it's sanctity already ruined,
it's guts spilled out in a portentous manner,
showing all what it once was
and all what will inevitably happen,
in an odd manner
filling in the void of this world
by allowing the stitch of the patterns stay put.
but i digress.
there ought to be much more.

A small one I had a short while ago.
Tommy Johnson Jan 2015

And there it was
A smoke ring blown into my face
And everything became halcyon
My heartbeat became the most profound thing I had ever heard

I wanted to live
I wanted to die
Descend into deranged madness

Walk to the noise and fog
The vast shiver of empty Mid-morning delusion
I spoke in a slangue I never heard

My surprised lips
Do the unexpected
Abandon all thought
All modern emotion

I belong here

       -Tommy Johnson

JoJo Nguyen Jun 2016

Wake up
Eat that Black Coffee
Drink up Hot Omelette
Listen to Cool June Rain
I am still the Bop King
at least for Awhile
at least till the New Crown

for Leo
JR Rhine Jun 2016

Thomas, Tommy baby,
you are both hot,
and sweet.

Tom Cat you’re red hot--
when I catch you in your Tom Cat Strut,
sauntering across campus,
strolling like it ain’t no thing,

cuz it don’t meant a thing
if it ain’t got that swing baby.

So dig this, Tommy Gun,
you groove with the best of ‘em
when I spot you strollin’—

Your head, teetering left and right like a seesaw, boppin’ baby,
arms hangin’ loosely, swinging freely, wildly, go! go!
legs scooping forward in boisterous trombone slides--
Groooooove Tommy baby!

You’re Louis’s best blows--
ten feet from the mic and the Fives baby,
you’re hot, red hot,
any closer and I'll burn up!

But you’re cool, real cool,
and oh so sweet.
Super sweet--

in your beard like a pepper and salt shaker tossed across the table,
I look to see those rosy lips part,
and peep those pearly whites shinin' like the bell of Louis’s cornet
brandished in the air, under those ballroom lights--
you’re screamin’ Tommy!

Let me hear that laugh that shakes the room,
punches like Blakey’s bass drum,
thumps like Mingus--

T-Bird you’ve got that hard bop in your soul,
you’re gonna bop to the top TB,
into the third heaven where the angels fall in line to your swing,
that incessant strut that keeps the devil at bay,
Blow! Blow! Blow!

And I see you now Tom Cat,
up there in the clouds,
digging your way across eternity,
bopping and jiving, swinging and blowing,

in your faded khaki pants and worn tennis shoes,
loosely buttoned collared shirt,
tight rectangular glasses that glistened the bell of your eyes even more--
I gotta stand twenty feet away Tommy baby!

You glance down at me and wink,
rearing your head back to let loose that Mingus and Blakey
bottom-end laugh,
guffaw guffaw guffaw!!!

--so hearty and rich,
the backbone of every nervous first-year classroom,
and the sniggering seniors you continued to befuddle and dazzle
with your mysterious ways
and insatiable swing.

So blow, Tommy Gun, blow!
Go Tom Cat go!
Dig T-Bird dig!
Let loose Tommy boy!

Swing for us, swing swing swing--
Hot and Sweet, Tommy baby,
hot and sweet.

For my professor, mentor, and dear friend, Thomas Barrett. You're hot and sweet Tommy baby, rest easy. Keep boppin. Thanks for everything.
Karen Ina Jun 2012

In just my time, you rang the bell,
The air of Spring in Autumn dwells
Where the world is seen in no hard way.

My eyes look bright, my father tells,
Of feelings felt and once were quelled
On this bench; you sit and understand

I feel one day we’ll make smooth jazz.

Moonshine Noire Apr 2017

A tenebrous chorus of hushed voices in a

disquieted, uneasy murmur and cry

in outrage over the dystopian reality

not oxymoronic but harshly surreal, tangible.

Tides of tears flood out the cruel sneers

And crude jibes of political injustice and unrest.

A revolution is needed before all is lost to the damning of humanity.

Hear you not the dulling whimpers of the

helplessly lost whose sighs turn to the demons

that haunt their ghastly nights under chilled stars,

igniting a fire to roar, hoping this one will work

to reunite a dying species struggling against

evolutionary mishaps and derailings weakening, then

befouling a once-sacred land to the selection

of rabid mongrels growling for hell at limbo's doors.

A revolution is needed before all is lost to the damning of humanity.

Invisible poverty camouflaged in the urban jungles

Once a warrior, now knocked down and it endures

a harsh climate against the disease that rides

its way to the summit, economizing our lifelines

like common resources, disarming our worth.

And we yell so the wind will carry our echoing voices.

A revolution is needed before all is lost to the damning of humanity.

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