"brando" poems
GOD GOES FOR A WALK
God goes
for a walk.
it is the depths of Winter
but, at a whim
he makes it
...Spring.
Because.
He can.
I also, as it happens
have gone for a walk
& am surprised by
the sudden change of
the weather. . ?
...whatever!
He is wearing a yellow
gangster style fedora.
He looks like Marlon Brando
being The Godfather.
He sports the brightest of yellow
waistcoats
which compliments
the purple shirt...purple trousers.
He strides along with His
Paisley patterned Parisian walking stick
whistling the music of
The Spheres.
The World bows
before him.
He is well pleased
with Himself, un-
-til: He encounters me
coming towards him
dressed in a gangster style
yellow fedora
the brightest of yellow waistcoats
not to mention the purple shirt...purple trousers.
I, also, possess
a Paisley patterned Parisian walking stick.
We nod politely
saying nothing but...
He is miffed at me
wearing His outfit and
I also miffed at Him
wearing mine!
We pass each other
God & creature.
And ******* if He doesn't
make it Winter
on the very next step.
He was always
a Jealous God.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
Hare Krishna's
In their Pickups
Depressed Comics
Down on their Luck
Teenage Girls
Screaming Meme's
****** Pinko's*
Leftward Leaning
Vincent Price
Flo and Eddie
Rodger Rabbit
Priscilla Presley
Nuns in Habits
Dwarf's in Ponchos
Deadbeat Dads
Munching Nachos
Right-Wing Nut Jobs
Trading Slogans
A few Hero's
Including Hogan
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Buddhist Monks
With Electric Banjos
Holding Signs Up
Of Marlon Brando
Taxi Cabs
Blaring Show Tunes
Pregnant Women
Down-loading Soon
Derby Jockeys
Flying Monkeys
Kool-Aidholics
Skittle Junkies
Bozo The Clown
Bumper Stickers
Psychedelic
Crazed Toad Lickers
Rhinestone Cowboys
In their Skivvies
Gothic Girls
Heebie Jeebies
Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Blue Haired Granny's
In pink Moo Moos
Ballerina's In
Tattered Tutus
Mathematician's
Number Crunchers
Even have Some
Out to Lunchers
Model 50's
*Do *** Daddies*
One More Round Of
Flo and Eddie
People Sneaking
Across the Border
Lonely Fry Cooks
Taking Orders
A Few Wannabes
Not Saying Much
Will The Real Elvis
Please Stand Up
Are just a few of the sights that you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee
Thank you...Thank you very Much
Ladies and Gentlemen
Elvis...Has Left The Building
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
Sunday Morning blues
RIO DE JANEIRO all nights or LAS VEGAS nightlife
After two-three glasses of twisted Ice lemon
Or was it an Alabama Slammer which cut like a knife
My days and nights felt like a freight train ride
And that no lie!
I remember the Cuban Bulldog who bite me
three years ago, in Kissimmee;
which left me more than a little weak
those feisty drinks
Or was it that wicked, wacky Long Island Ice coffee
Which almost has done me in?
After, watching a news clips of Momar Kadafi
or was it an episode of Friends
Luckily, for me I met my sweet Marlin Brando
And it was hallelujah and amen in Key Largo
So many bartenders, so many smokes filled rooms
So, once again here I am nursing
Another Sunday mornings blues.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
She chokes on her apple turnover
Leaving a cloud of powdered sugar
That would stop Marlon Brando in his tracks.
Instead of cleaning up the dust,
She starts to swirl her fingers around in it
Until various shapes start to emerge.
She says it doesn't feel like there are clouds in the sky anymore
That maybe it's because she hasn't been keeping her chin up enough,
Admitting that optimism never quite suited her.
So instead, she says she'll make her own patterns
And test out realism for a while
Since she figures that realism is the only mindset that
Allows her something tangible to hold onto
When she's drowning in a false sense of security.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 7:53 PM UTC
On the waterfront, in a freight car-
Call it passion, call it desire.
Whatever it is that inspires-
That thing that wrings
One more day out.
What songs angels sing!
As they ferry souls along,
On flight, in wing
En route:
But the dead walk amongst the living, too,
And sometimes even angels get confused.
Poor, empty vassal
Aug 23, 2023
Aug 23, 2023 at 7:22 PM UTC
once a collage
hung on a wide white wall
with monochrome photos of
all creatures great and small
Dali juxtaposed with Doris Day,
LBJ atop JFK, and Joe DiMaggio,
grinning Frankenstein and frowning
Frank Sinatra, not far below
Hemingway, Groucho Marx, Marlon Brando
occupying three of four corners, the bottom right
a curious cat, in stretched repose
dead center, a cracked crucifix
and four Beatles all, Paul the biggest
with the cross crowning his frame
a Corvette,
and Stalin in his tomb
were also given ample room,
on this black and white piece of art
as were ****** Cleaver, with cap,
Jimi Hendrix with axe
another three score
and a couple more, completed
this cacophony of sight, but absent
were J. Bieber, Beyonce, any of the Simpsons
of Fox fame, revealing the artist of this gray masterpiece
was blissfully blind to cyber sacrilege,
Steve Job’s toys, and the lost soul
of Lindsey Lohan
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
You will not break my spirit burning bright,
turn my day to terror'd night
you will not break my cities tall and proud,
run my family underground
you will not break me!
you will not rob my leaders of their will,
clergy of their faith,
you will not peel stripes from my face
poke holes through my stars
you will not get away with this!
you will not turn my red, white and blue
into painful black and blue,
you will not break my children's acrid innocence,
my freedom to endure,
you will not take my mother and hold her hostage,
break my back first man, 'cause I'll seek justice
I'm an American!
My colors do not run,
I'm black, white, brown, yellow and tan
I'm an American!
You broke into family's home
killed brothers and sisters
one day I will get you
because I'm an American!
and
you will not break me,
you will not break me,
you will not break the hope in my child's eyes
peace will prevail to your surprise,
love is strength in numbers,
your will is bound by hatred
America slumbers no more,
the giant has awaken and
years of complacent, fat-cat politics
is now down to ***** out heretics
I got *****
I got *****
I got ***** swinging from the hips of
Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull
ready to bounce you out of your holes!
I got soul,
I got soul
I got soul like no others got soul,
got soul like Tina Turner, James Brown,
Ella Fitzgerald and the New York City Fire Department
I'm an American!
I got heart,
I got heart like no others got heart
I got heart like the Tin Man found
I got heart like Tony Bennett, George Foreman,
Marlon Brando, Jesse Owens, BB King, John Belushi
Johnny Franco and the Miracle Mets!
I'm an American!
I'm an American!
and
you will not break me
you will not break me
you will not break me!
Frank Messina. 9/11/2016.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
whistle, call out,
bait me in,
i'm super ******* cool,
i can't forgive,
what i can't forget,
whistle, call out,
the neurons fire mad,
the adrenaline screams,
grinding teeth,
i'm super ******* cool,
whistle, call out,
taunt, bait,
think of your throat,
of your crippled arrogance,
listen,
i'd love to spill your blood,
i'd love to make you hate every breath,
but i'm super ******* cool,
so i'll watch from afar
as you spill your own,
going mad at the lack
of a response,
at the lack of an ally,
i don't have time to
pretend,
to be bait,
to be horned,
to get drawn in and *******
i'm brando in a white t-shirt,
i'm fonzie decked in leather,
and you're a summer *****
whose season is in passing.
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 12:26 PM UTC
Like coffee in the morning
I grew used to you somehow
It started bitter and without warning
it is ending that way now
Like Gene Kelly or Sinatra
You have Marlon Brando class
Went to pop music from the opera
Now I cant stop thinking about ***
Like two stings out of tune
We always seem to clash
Bring your beauty to the room
Where the music doesn't match
Art is ever changing: lke w/e idc
People rearranging: Thrz no bEutY Ne wer3
(Jaha baha LOL
They prolly tlk like diz N h3L7 )
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
I've got a confession
What's my lesson?
Marlin Brando
Flounders
Off the coast
Who can boast?
The host
Steal the roast
And walk away
without even a ******* toast
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC
Tracy Batman
Give me one reason,
and I’ll turn back around,
almost past The Point of No Return,
and see no point in turning back now,
like Tracy Chapman or Bruce Wayne Batman,
or Tracy Morgan or Morgan The Captain,
or better yet a Spacey Captain or a spacey Batman,
just not a Kevin Spacey because we all know what happened,
oh no no fake strangers only straight facts fam,
you see I see the whole thing through I’m not a flash in the pan scam,
I’m beginning till end from lights camera action to it’s a wrap man,
gone till November,
leaving on a jet plane to Denver,
more Tracy Chapman than Tracy Morgan,
more Jon Wayne than Jon Denver,
more Honcho than Jon Doe,
more Pronto than Macho,
more Brando than Tonto,
full throttle no point in turning back now,
wow,
only time I feel alive is when I almost die,
we do like vroom vroom we do we don’t try,
no need to try to live that life when you really live that life,
why sail the high seas when you can reach Heaven and fly,
living The Life of Lives,
living the Dream of Dreams,
and you’re looking at me,
like “What do you mean?”,
I mean,
for real,
for really real,
how do you really feel?
It’s 2018,
and this feels like a Sci-Fi flic,
one where we’re an Army of One,
about to deploy and I feel sick,
see every Moon has it’s dark side,
every man has something to hide,
like Nazis with a secret base on the moon,
in a film from 2012 set in 2018 entitled Iron Sky,
but instead of Pink Floyd everything’s Purple Noise,
this is the year after the Artist Formally Named Prince finally died,
and cryptos were raised from the dead like a horror story,
Tales From The Crypto or better yet Tales From The Darkside,
saw a drawing at an art exhibit in Phoenix called Sad Pony,
it was sad because it was a unicorn without a horn so the spark had died,
and now he appeared alive,
even though when you look close you see the spark has disappeared from his eyes,
and he knows he has to escape before this city gets the only thing he has left,
which is the Soul he holds dear as he marches through the pain and the fears,
and he’s ready to go already but doesn’t want to leave you behind,
so before he goes he turns on his toes and asks you one thing just to be clear,
“Are you ready to get out of here?”
Give me one reason,
and I’ll turn back around,
almost past The Point of No Return,
and see no point in turning back now,
like Tracy Chapman or Bruce Wayne Batman,
gone till November leaving on a jet plane to Denver,
more Tracy Chapman than Tracy Morgan,
more Jon Wayne than Jon Denver,
more Honcho than Jon Doe,
more Pronto than Macho,
more Brando than Tonto,
full throttle no point in turning back now…
∆ LaLux ∆
2/5/18
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 11:48 PM UTC
Marley Brando
So many options,
can’t say too many options,
but honestly what do you do,
when even too much is not enough,
“What?”,
“Were you saying something?,
I feel like I’m in a dream,
I’m asking for affirming,
because I don’t feel a thing…”,
You stare at me with those infinite eyes,
“I feel exactly the same way.”,
then you shift your gaze,
and stare off for eternity,
as that fire inside keeps burning me,
something simmering inside is burning me,
anxious and pacing,
all out of patience,
feeling like a Patient in a Psycho-Ward society,
yes I’m fine so please don’t bother me,
I won’t sign over royalties and no I don’t need notoriety,
I’ll leave that for the words,
and all the flabby flack from the flock of ruffle feathered haters,
waiting in the wings I fly by & leave that for the Birds,
word word word,
words are what we scribe as a Writer of The Times,
words to explain when I’m gone,
words to explain when we’re gone,
when the memories have all faded,
because unless a Tyrant burns the books,
we’ll have our history scribed onto these pages,
lopsided but liberated,
feeling like a rat in a cage,
or a canary in a coalmine,
consumed with the thought to “Just get way.”,
just get away,
I’m already gone anyways,
don’t be fooled by this shell of a body,
I’ve been through Hell so now I’m in The Hills where I party,
Heaven can wait I’m on the Guest-List anyways so I won’t have to waste time at The Gate,
ready to party,
with Jim Morrison and Bob Marley,
and Brando but no Commando,
yeah I’m talking to you Sylvester sorry,
Charlie,
Chaplin for certain,
Sheen well we’ll see,
Janis, Jackson, Kurt and,
Pac and it don’t stop,
does it,
what’s in,
your wallet,
Rest In Peace,
Christopher Wallace,
smoking a chalice,
on Cloud 9 with Marley Brando,
cool as an Ice Cream Sundae,
relaxing watching the world go bananas,
B-A-N-A-N-A-S,
shout out to Gwen,
Steph,
I spin around and ask,
“What is this,
I meanI know it sounds cliche,
but does any of this really exist?”,
“Oh and where’d my mind go?”,
So many options,
won’t say too many though,
but honestly what do you do,
when even too much is not enough?,
“What?”,
“Were you saying something?,
I feel like I’m in a dream,
I’m asking for affirming,
because I don’t feel a thing…”…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
author of 3 #1 Best Sellers,
& The Poetry Trilogy
∆
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 6:03 AM UTC
.
Her hair rushes like rain
As my eyes turn to stone,
Her beauty, it has no fame,
Like Brando is one great poet,
And Shakespeare, so underrated,
Her lips are like undiscovered flowers,
Opening into a mythic forest untrammeled,
Like footsteps reeling after light from beyond,
Her voice babbles as water caressing mute stones.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
It was as if
I were witnessing
a classic Hollywood western.
There I was
stuck in Lubbock
on that windy as hell day,
so I dropped into
the local drinking establishment
to guzzle some whiskey
for a spell.
It wasn't long before
she drove up
riding the prettiest Harley ever,
all chrome and polished black
with the sweetest sound
a bike could make,
it purred like a kitten.
She leaned that baby
up against the wall outside
& strutted like John Wayne
(some would argue Marlon Brando)
into the cantina
where she bellied up to the bar.
Every male jaw in the joint
was dropped
watching her down
three shots of Cuervo,
pay the check in hard cash,
a big bill,
and saunter right back
out of the place
like she owned it.
She was mesmerizing,
fluid motion,
tight jeans,
a rattlesnake sway.
Every man stood at the window
to watch her kick her stand up
& disappear
on that long black ribbon
into the falling sun,
breathtaking...
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
"I watched a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor.
That's my dream. It's my nightmare. Crawling, slithering,
along the edge of a straight razor … and surviving."
– Col. Kurtz, Apocalypse Now
~
Remember
the golden age, Wally ***
And the songs
my mother taught me?
We sang about what was.
Or might never be.
Like permanency.
Distinction comes
out of stiff and frozen silences.
Take it with
a spoonful of disdain.
Take it in the eye.
Actors are like breakfast cereals.
They're obvious
and according to taste.
I stopped needing them
long ago.
Beautiful
Tallulah.
Beautiful,
"less to this than
meets the eye"
Tallulah,
dismiss me,
that I may be free
to find Tennessee.
Open windows
and closing doors.
Always a breeze,
but never a way out.
Right on cue
the cards shuffle.
Butter and cotton *****
tricks of the trade.
I mumble to be heard.
I am legend
to disciples
of the Method.
I wear my friends to bed,
burn them like newspaper.
They call me "Bud"
—cigarettes at dawn
after devouring the night.
And now my song ebbs,
as the stylus hits the leadout groove.
Tomorrow, I'll be better.
Today, I'm just me.
Jan 8, 2021
Jan 8, 2021 at 11:04 AM UTC
... Give me one reason to stay here,
& I’ll turn right back around,
said I don’t want to leave you lonely,
you’ve got to make me change my mind now,
give me one reason to stay here, & I’ll turn right back around,
& no money won’t help not at all not in any amount,
I’m past possessions & almost past The Point of No Return,
so at this point I see no point in turning back now,
like Tracy Chapman, Bruce Wayne Batman, or Tracy Morgan, like the Joker, Heath Ledger, Edgar Poe, or Captain Morgan,
or a Spacey Captain,
or a **** Batman ready for action,
just not actually Kevin Spacey,
we all know what happened,
we can imagine, so there’s no need for a reenactment,
I know I’m handsome,
thanks for the compliment, I’m flattered,
but not interested, ‘cause I just don’t find guys that attractive,
so quit the harassment & passive aggressive temper tantrums,
& quit asking for a dance,
you already have your answer,
I only give straight facts fam,
don’t know those fake strangers,
don’t need the gold you try to coax me with, soul’s platinum,
not a flash in the pan scam, I scan more than you can imagine,
hindsight 20/20 vision, I read the whole thing backwards,
from the final ending, to lights camera action,
gone till November,
leaving on a jet plane to Denver,
more Tracy Chapman than Tracy Morgan,
more Jon Wayne than Jon Denver,
more Honcho than Jon Doe, more Pronto than Macho,
more Brando than Tonto, full throttle no turning back now,
won’t back down,
feel most alive in times when I almost die,
the real thing, we vroom vroom we do don’t try try,
no need to try to live this life when you really live that life,
why sail the high seas when you can reach Heaven & fly?
Living The Life of Lives, living The Dream of Dreams,
one dream at a time, lucidly asking, “What do you mean?”,
I mean, for real, for really real, how do you really feel? ...
continued in poem #74 in
THHT3: The Hollywood Hills Trilogy 3 available here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07XJRBSKD
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 12:57 PM UTC
Garfunkel was two years ahead of me at Columbia,
but I never met him, let alone got to know him. But
I just watched and listened to Simon and Garfunkel's
1981 CONCERT IN THE PARK on YouTube for almost
the one-hundredth time. Both had to be geniuses. You
can't be as good as both of them were without being
geniuses. I think Simon was the greatest lyricist of the
20th Century. I think Garfunkel's rendition of BRIDGE
OVER TROUBLED WATER will go down as the SONG
OF THE 20th CENTURY. Garfunkel's voice was
unmatched, as were Simon's extraordinary lyrics.
The tragedy was that Simon and Garfunkel, as SIMON
AND GARFUNKEL, performed professionally only
three years. Think of that. Only three years....
What if Brando and Streep had acted only three years...?
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Mar 20, 2023
Mar 20, 2023 at 9:12 AM UTC
you could have been a flower that eats insects
or an insect that eats flowers
could have been a Bee
a Queen.
Could have been a poet
could have been a contender. (Marlon Brando)
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 12:09 PM UTC
Fade in: Ext. Theater - Day
Cue clouds: gray shrouds
blanket the sky
and the sun's last remaining rays
Cut to: Ext. Theater - Noon
Cue crowd: no sound,
no song comprise
the mise en scene
of this somber scene
Fade in: Int. Theater - Night
Cue sound: few gasps,
some oohs and ahhs,
some cries comprise
the mise en scene
of this joyous scene
Cut to: extreme close up
Their eyes reflect the faces on the screen:
Newman, Hoffman, Brando, Ledger
Pacino, De Niro
Penn, Caine, Dean
Fade out
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 8:02 PM UTC
Sometimes
I wish I was Brando
To be the best
At being
Anyone
.....else.
Oct 18, 2023
Oct 18, 2023 at 1:39 PM UTC
I'm going down Crazy Janey,
you're gonna dance in my darkness,
then I'm going racing in your streets.
We'll take my '69 Chevy to Atlantic City
I'm gonna find that big dude from LA.
I heard what happened when you two went away to the same College.
I'm gonna make that little boy pay.
I'll roll his broke body across the state line
all the way to Philly,
turn around walk back into Jersey
like Brando on the moon.
Wake up the next morning,
punch the clock on time,
at my hometown factory.
Down by the cold black river
me and my old man still hold the line.
We still cut quality steel in the U.S.A,
under smokestacks that kiss the sky.
Then me and Dad go home
and wash up, drink some cold ones,
He tells the same old stories
while I drink my fill.
I say goodbye wander the highway in the night,
But my spirit stays blinded in Janey's legs,
and in her Crazy light.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 7:33 PM UTC
I’ve got a confession
What’s my lesson?
Marlon brando flounders
off the coast.
Who can boast?
The host
Steal the roast
and walk away
without even
a ******* toast.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 7:08 PM UTC
I shot Marlon Brando in his head
Shot Marlon Brando Dead, Dead, Dead
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC