"bozos" poems
Americana, fair Madonna, tell me what's become of you; star's so bright, your war's are polite, as your ripped flag's red, white, and blue. Oh bountiful cities, mountain-told villages; starlit pillages foreshadow your deathly paths. Some books hold secrets, while cake candles burn tricks to cigarettes of nuclear blasts! Afterthought you are oh country tis of thee; so blessed in your filth, your kilts are images of projected misery. Find an Alcove you castleview kings; your tongues will soon be silenced to the non-mindsense you care to bring! Resemble with eachother patriarchs of hatred; national to all stations, you are the one in control. Forget what mother told you? Did you already sell your soul? Instant inhumanness; gratitude for filthiness, they feel for girly magazines. Rescind your rhetoric you false entity of enemies kings. Perch behind the clouds where the guard's can't get you; where pharaoh's confront you, only God knows all time! Subjection to viewest bozos behind bar-reason rhymes. Where are you angel of light? I see your face; or have I taken your place?
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
©prison poetry
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 6:01 PM UTC
Remember that we
Are all Bozos on this bus
Laugh, that's the ticket!
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 10:26 AM UTC
Registrations are way down at Clown Colleges today.
No one wants to scare small kids for the peanuts that they pay.
Older Bozos are alarmed that no one is enthused
to follow their profession and try to fill their shoes.
Sales of makeup are way down, ditto for funny clothes.
And vendors can’t remember when they sold their last red nose.
When the one ring circus comes to town clowns will be hard to spot
The clown cars that they used to drive are rusting on the lot.
The reason for the scarcity is obvious to me;
All those with clown potential serve in Washington D.C.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
I sit here bored out of my mind
Wondering how can I quietly waste time
Everyone still working on their test
Trying so hard to do their best
A whole group a idiots are right behind me
They won't Shut Up! with their laughs filled with arrogant glee
And one of those bozos stole my chair
Now my friend is all alone, with those idiots back there
My friend and I stare awkwardly at each other
Then we look away
Than we glare at one another
Than our heads turn astray
I keep looking at the clock
As it slowly ticks
Three hours more
When will time move on
My chair is so hard
My **** has gone numb
My foot just fell alseep
Man I have to ****
I hate this stupid pathetic test
I wish it could just go away
I'm going to try my best
So I don't have to redo this stupid aims test
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
Caídos sí, no muertos, ya postrados titanes,
están los hombres de resuelto pecho
sobre las más gloriosas sepulturas:
las eras de las hierbas y los panes,
el frondoso barbecho,
las trincheras oscuras.
Siempre serán famosas
estas sangres cubiertas de abriles y de mayos,
que hacen vibrar las dilatadas fosas
con su vigor que se decide en rayos.
Han muerto como mueren los leones:
peleando y rugiendo,
espumosa la boca de canciones,
de ímpetu las cabezas y las venas de estruendo.
Héroes a borbotones,
no han conocido el rostro a la derrota,
y victoriosamente sonriendo
se han desplomado en la besana umbría,
sobre el cimiento errante de la bota
y el firmamento de la gallardía.
Una gota de pura valentía
vale más que un océano cobarde.
Bajo el gran resplandor de un mediodía
sin mañana y sin tarde,
unos caballos que parecen claros,
aunque son tenebrosos y funestos,
se llevan a estos hombres vestidos de disparos
a sus inacabables y entretejidos puestos.
No hay nada ***** en estas muertes claras.
Pasiones y tambores detengan los sollozos.
Mirad, madres y novias, sus transparentes caras:
la juventud verdea para siempre en sus bozos.
786
So I pushed
"Write a poem"
Thinking the **** machine was
Gonna write a poem
And then this **** page comes up
Like I'm supposed
To write the
**** poem!
-
What the ****
-
Well a course I could write
A ****** good poem!
But for whom
You out there!
YOU!
A buncha bozos sittin around all night
Tryin to get laid
N then beatin up on yer partner
Iffn they want out sometime?
---
Give me a **** ****** break!
/:/
I mean
Where is Shakespeare
When ya need him, right?
__
O. K.
-- here we go--
::
We are lovers let us go
Into the pure hearts' true dominion
We'll light the way for every soul
Upon the path of god's creation
We'll make love on all street corners
We will storm the palace walls
We are the masters of all that matters
The mistresses of eternal law
I in you and you in me
Our presence is eternal peace
Every man thus is saved
Every child thus is graced
////
There ya got it
One more stinking poem!
Now how do I turn
The **** machine off!
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 2:42 AM UTC
Anoche te sentí tan cerca,
fundida en remembranza,
la frustración me llevaba
a besarme a mí misma.
Sentía tu aliento en los bozos de mis brazos,
mis ojos cerrados perdidos en tu regazo,
en ese tiempo donde éramos amantes,
mi boca babeaba de tanto rebose,
mi famélico cuerpo perdido en tu siembra,
en tu tierra mojada nutriendo mi binza,
esperando que la cosecha brotara en tu boca.
Anoche tus labios mordían mis huecos,
rellenándolos de desquicia y arrobamiento,
mi pellejo temblaba de tanto esparcimiento,
deslizada sobre mi cama, con tu nombre y sin recurso.
Tus voz transportándome a tu guarida,
invitándome a circular la duna de tu piel anguila,
desnudar con mis labios tu madura exquisitez,
desvistiéndote una y otra vez, desordenando tu rigidez,
hasta que mi boca lograras despertar las gulas de tu ser.
Anoche mi cabeza te tomo de rehén,
me perdí en todos los sabores de tu ser.
Anoche sé que escuchaste mi llamado al universo,
mi boca sin saber besaba tu centro,
agitados respiros deshilaron mis sábanas,
perdido el control - me mordía y pellizcaba,
llamaba tu nombre, recordaba tus pampas.
Anoche recordé tu desenvoltura
al recorrer los alcores de mi cuerpo,
todas esas elevaciones, todos esos deslizamientos
por las vías de nuestros cuerpos,
sentí el calor de tu boca susurrarme;
- - ¡te puedes rendir, haz llegado a la cumbre!
Quede confundidamente extasiada y en silencio..,
abrí los ojos para realizar, que acabamos de hacer el amor
aunque no estés a mi lado.
LeydisProse
10/17/2018
https://m.facebook.com/LeydisProse//
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC
lovers of love
trying to find the key
of perpetual motion
of perpetual people
losing and winning again
crying in the mist of it all
laughing in your sleep
thinking mostly
"what in the world "
" what in the world "
feelings that over-ride
your concepts
images that can't be defined
people that weigh you down
clowns of all description
clowns in many disguises
clowns with make-up all amiss
bringing you chuckles
for no apparent reason
sadness of a clown's song
horns that will always be flat
sighs so deep, so forbidding
teachings from another time
too many "Bozos"
to many big shoes
cast your lashings away
and set sail for the moon
it's waiting to greet you
again...................................................................
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC