"brazillian" poems
Flood every grocery sack with opened up noodle boxes.
Ask the butcher for fresh chinook salmon.
Bother the pharmasists for a secret remedy until he sighs and gives in.
Give the lady yourcalifornia sunshine drivers license when she yawns and
Has to make sure you can buy a bottle. ( I imangined what happened after we danced.)
She moved my pulse like safeways selectice bold brazillian roast.
I believe her secret recipies for pickled seduction.
Every first isle Leaves me happily underneath the celings act three popcorn
Until I beg her to hold like fresh melting george forman grilled cheese (what I was looking for a long time from now)
The iron clad grill Whisperes"you have found her missing grocery list". Why has her bias condemmed possibilies canned tuna fish in oil. Theres nothing to see insider her locks of eggplant stems. i can find a alternative way to cash my sacronized invisible receit stamped with red words raincbeck. I couldnt afford you impulse items.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
Let cruise to Jamaica.
And pretend we're Jamacian.
Let cruise to Brazil.
And pretend we're Brazillian.
And we will have some fun.
Let cruise to Spain.
And pretend we'll Spainards.
Let cruise to the Carribeans.
And pretend we're Carribeanians.
And we will have some fun.
Let's put away of worries.
And just enjoy one another.
As we.
As we explore the world.
Let cruise to Trinidad along the coast.
And enjoy all the joy of the beauty of the world.
God has created a beautiful world for all of us to get to know.
And if we must.
We can go to Mexico.
Or change our journey.
And stop over in Britain.
And pretend to be truly English.
Least in our mind.
As we have some fun.
And journey to Ireland.
To enjoy the folks that's there.
We're on an adventuresome cruise.
Where we are creating our own rules?
As we have some fun.
There be places we might not get to see.
But we will enjoy all our memories.
As we have some fun travelling.
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 5:34 PM UTC
I drink to the java they put in my cup
Brazillian or Turkish I guzzle it up
Starbucks to Borders just pour me my brew
I need that caffeine or my poet is through
'Fore I’m snoring away in a Manhattan minute
Fill up my mug with my potion poured in it
Those dark little beans are my favorite booster
I'm up to the task like a Rhode Island rooster
Phooey on tea leaves and colas with fizz
I’d cry to the heavens, is that all there is!!?!
With no mud or jamocho my words have no pomp
And no lovely check from old Wergle Flomp
Aug 21, 2010
Aug 21, 2010 at 10:27 AM UTC
Give me a Sarie tone poem
like light on a Monet haystack,
or Brazillian Astrud like a Matisse line.
Let me lie down in a half-shuttered room
in the south of France with Matisse
and the soft flutter
of heavy -feathered white doves,
their mild calls.
Only a little time, Henri,
before Picasso will come with his big boots.
We should take our afternoon.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 4:24 PM UTC
There are many things that we all want to do
And there are just as many people pretending that they have this
Magic wand that they can wave and
Just like that
My problems will
Disappear.
I feel cheated
I think my entire generation should feel cheated
By the false prophets of the world.
Those people who promised to take away my worries
With a special pill
Or formula
Or if you just subscribe
We'll help you feel all better.
I grew up with technology burgeoning at my fingertips.
I learned that if I phrased my questions in just the right way
I could Google my way to greatness.
I grew up thinking there really were shortcuts to life.
That if I found the right course,
The right document,
The right video,
The right word
I could just make all my worries disappear.
Today I feel sadness
Because I realize that the road ahead of me
The one I thought was perfect for me
Is hard work
And I want to quit it.
I can't put in a hard day's work
And the problem is I don't know
How to fix that.
There's no secret guide,
No Buddhist meditation technique
No magic Brazillian pill
No short cut
To learning the power of hard work.
But I'm scared that I'll just learn how to avoid it
Again.
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 8:37 PM UTC
You called. We hadn't
spoken in weeks.
You needed drugs,
I had the contacts.
If I can't get love
from you, I may as well
get ******* and ****
someone new.
Now I'm trying to explain
to a Brazillian kid
what an 8 ball is
at 9pm on a Tuesday.
Drinking packet soup.
It's grey outside,
and I'm working the opening shift
in the morning, boring.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC