"bullish" poems
I place my wildest dreams in a system where I can contain
To avoid judgement in a world full people to name
As I learn to drop my pride and forget my fears
I'm still afraid of a woman, I can't name that I'd love to get near
Time ticks so why waste minutes on a bad trip
Of allowing your mind to go and travel through all the bullish
Of evil that tries to deciet you as you drop down to the lords knees
Keep attracting princesses when it's a queen that you truly need
Would you die for peace?
Bleed to survive?
Take the answers off another's test or actually try?
Why lie?
We all creatures of a bad habit
I tend to carry baggage
Still kinda afraid of average
Just felt I needed to express through this hallow pen
To The Lord is the simplicity of my minor thoughts in which I'm tryna send
Please don't resent
Honesty, the truth
Pain doesn't come unless you allow the pain inside you
Whatcha tryna do?
Will fight for what you believe ?
Will she love me unconditionally?
You promised me you wouldn't leave.
My imagination has grown but first it had to die
The terror of the nightmares
The sleeplessness of a lie
Release what you have inside.
I promise it'll set you free
Take a look at your blueprints
Before you go and try to fix me.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
He heard a last echoed clink of liquor-laden ice-cubes,
Stuck between two stools that screamed for company,
I gazed across his vacant stare to the barman –the silent DJ,
Professionally ignorant as I gestured my hoarse thirst,
I waited a little minute, another minute an’ just one more,
Enter our businessman, full-schedule, long-hauled to drink,
With a rib-eye steak of a face an’ breath surely barbecued,
Two satisfied cheeks, pink-puffed with brows fit for burial,
Teeth ground with tension but brighter than the lighting
A fungal-lung nose perched upon a smile that I could smell,
He plumbed himself wet-shave close to my stiffened neck,
“..Hana Drink..?” (Silence) best to follow the DJ’s example,
(Bullish huffs) (Lips licked) “.. Ya’ll wantin’ a drink, Mister?..”
Flustered by the company, I replied “..Non, Je think eh Je chi..”
A retort of sorts, faux languages not my degree, “..Leaba..Bed!”
Spluttered just at the end – an insulting first impression,
He seemed nervously joyous, loosened from being himself,
Yet his trouser belt buckled, pulled tight to conversation level,
An’ Redwood-trunk hands, alive with the latest deal struck,
“..Bedtime for us..” he bare-bawled, splitting my weary eyes,
His numbed arm clumsily flung around me, “..bedtime for us!..”,
DJ unmuted, the music paused, I mouthed softly “..just the bill..”
(Silence)
“..Who’s Bill?.. a friend?…Is he cute?.. So this drink?” I panic still.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
When in the pasture
They don't offend;
We avert disaster,
When they're penned.
But that crusted crap
Is everywhere;
If not aware,
We step right in.
We'll scrape the pooh
To no avail,
The smell's
Stuck to our shoes.
We can't quell
The **** we're in.
There's one steaming
On my walk,
Leading to my door.
Leave your keys
When you leave,
That patty leads
To court.
The Internet's beset
With bullish threats;
Hard to miss
The patties here;
Our lives and much
That we hold dear,
Is shared and smeared
For all to read,
Milking us of privacy;
An abattoir,
It's piracy.
It's utterly insane.
They entice us,
Then enlist us,
Like leading
Cash cows
Down the lane;
Then tap
For one drop more.
Friends may offer
Cow pies
With an aromaticfluence;
They pressure you to choose:
Step right or left,
Then smear you with
Their cocksure ********
What enemy
Could do less?
Shopped pixelled patties
Are reprehensible,
Making one
So susceptible:
You *****
Then starve,
Then lose your hair
Until one day
You disappear.
We get caught up
In the flash,
Of all the stars
And fast cash,
But they have patties
Underfoot,
They slip and slide,
Get clean,
Then smirk.
We can smell'em
On those jerks.
There's a patty
At your boyfriend's place;
You're deep in it
If you're late.
There's a patty
At your girlfriend's place,
And you're deep in it
If she's late.
Some patties
Are so well disguised
In the colours
Of lover's eyes.
Intoned in lover's lures.
But step in it,
They call you *****
Some patties
Are good
At getting you high,
But one mis-step,
And you may die.
There's hidden patties
Lying within,
Crusted beneath
Veneered skin:
They waft with doubt,
Fear and longing;
Side-step that mass
At all costs.
Don't crack the surface.
You're better than
You think.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
. tiky torches, and not football hooligan red flares?! i want gnashing teeth.... the red worm... i want the crude.... waiting feud!
you, don't, make,
dictum, in, this,
part, of, the world!
nein!
you, can, have,
your women!
but, not, the, ego,
of males!
**** you, and your
colonialist past
rewrite!
**** you...
dr. dre, ******
so no, what becomes
musicological
click-bait?!
****** ****** yo **
******* term
gets... owned?!
like *vomito *****
making reference
to the black plague?!
you do your ****** bit,
i do mine...
and we meet in the middle...
and then...
we crash and burn...
for whatever it's worth...
now catch me petting
rottweilers...
heavy headed
craniums...
ready to bullwhip
a gnash of a raiding bullish
cranium head-butt...
just, gagging,
to perform,
the jaw-swapping gnash!
sure... big, bogus,
jaw dropping crude...
of a count of teeth...
but...
i'm itching...
itching to fasten onto a feast
of a fist;
not in eastern europe, ******
you come here...
you play by our rules...
the whole
anti-rap...
the whole
hip hop scene of Warsaw...
no, not really...
i'm not exactly
part of either, "scene"...
god...
i haven't even allowed myself
to use edgy words...
girl worth a *****
but to succumb to motherhood?
i'm a heavy drinker,
i'm not exactly the moralizer;
wrap up, clean the shit-show...
and forget i even
managed to circumstance
a narrative.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 10:48 PM UTC
I don't know why I'm feelin' the way I'm feelin'
Could be 'cuz of all the bullish with what I'm dealin'
I need healin'
And the promise of a new beginin'...
I'm in need of much
Yet still, I have much to give
Even without the promise to 'life give'
...Maybe I can't even have kids...
I hurt and I love
I give and I receive
I devote what I have
But there are things that I need....
I'm sure and uncertain
Confident yet nervous
I seek my passion
But don't know my purpose...
I feel worthless
But worthy all at the same time
Wonderin' what the **** is going on
Can't explain the crazy ramblings in my mind...
I want to tell the world
But I can't tell a soul
So I dream these crazy things
And to the world I grow cold...
its all ******** really...
May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 4:30 AM UTC
i was so peacefully apathetic once
that i managed to get a chemistry degree
and started loving manual labour,
but then humanity of a spontaneous act of stupidity
constricted my chest
and left me without a definite vector to unload my affection,
leaving me on debility benefits of the state
that started to turn to the lord peerage anonymity
of skinny budgets,
and i was left drinking walking the same streets in circles
wishing my apathy had returned
and the substance that so mummified my thought in couches
with ease.
i feel for those who ache like budgies in cages of emotion so early in life,
wishing to sing and flutter away to hawaii,
but i just don’t have it in me to be so pain-crushed from a life un-lived,
to feel so much but live so little...
if i’m supposed to feel so much and live so little
i rather live remembering my former apathy that nearly conjured
a hindu avatar in full bloom... but as avatars go... shiva’s avatar is
hard to tame... it’s destructive power is a bullish potency to create,
and once it starts charging there’s only the red light district of amsterdam to stop it.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 11:00 AM UTC
is that what grass is? i said in awe,
a child once again, wide-eyed with desire--
to explore, to roll and tumble over vastness
crest and trough of hillsides breathing in the sun,
then nap among the cows, pet their broadness
blinking there in ease above the buzzing vale.
am i a child still? i cooed into the wind,
watched it stroke and flicker bright the woven green
atop the next, and felt it in my breast.
am i akin to you? i squinted closer still
at gaze of bovine wakefulness to my refrain--
uncurling there against the matted fresh
with yawning tongues and udder slosh,
bounce of calf, frolic laps, then bullish
mimic make in sport away from watchful eye
.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 3:35 PM UTC
*To think we might go terraforming;
When we cannot save our own green earth.
Bulldoze, clear, hydrate, land conforming -
Leave behind the trash with carefree mirth
Lost to eyes that have never perceived
Intrinsic beauty within a leaf
The song of nature, gifts we’ve received
Perfumed zephyrs, their aroma brief
A symphony of insects and birds
Trills and whistles, loud winds and soft sighs
Music here that needs no spoken words
Had they noticed how it softly dies?
We’ve pushed beyond a safe redemption
Killed off species never discovered
So much more of which we can mention
Some, much too late to be recovered
And yet, we plan on terraforming
Move on to a new place, start out fresh
Some might see it as bullish storming
With ways unchanged, new worlds we enmesh.
Lin Cava©*
Oct 28, 2010
Oct 28, 2010 at 5:20 PM UTC
You want to fight
But I, my angry darling,
I only want to write.
I'll spew out wrathful words and find redemption on the page.
And what will you do?
Where will you go?
Denied a receiver at which to bellow,
Will the bullish screams die within your throat
Before they reach your lips?
Does it bewilder you, how your rage remains unsated?
My reluctance, my refusal to join you in anger games?
Don't you wonder where I go?
I've told you, but you dismissed my refuge with a shrug,
So live with it, find a punchbag or a stressball,
Or better still a friend
On which to offload.
I only want to write
I won't fight you, not tonight.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:30 PM UTC
"As you prepare to hop into New Year and celebrate its Newness, ponder and think of Aleppo-Syria, S.Sudan, Congo and many warring Nations. Pray that 2017 may be a year of peace and consolation."
ALEPPO!
For Humble Humanities of Aleppo-Syria, S. Sudan, Congo and all Warring Nations, Peace be upon you!
Aleppo, beautiful Aleppo
There only as a desolate sad memory!
Aleppo, a sadly stolen ivory
Aleppo, cry-tears without a drain-dry
Aleppo, last of light
She has fallen, fatally
Beautiful bride of Arabia
O sweet heart of Syria
A rubble of rust dust
She lays lost and desperate
Scraps-a mass of maimed mess
Aleppo, a tale of was
Aleppo, a lonely woman in deep grief
Aleppo, a loner lost in her wilderness of laments
Aleppo, Aleppo, fallen yet not mourned
Aleppo, suffering yet not aided
Aleppo, dilapidated yet of sweet taste
Aleppo, fallen, fallen to unrecyclable waste
Aleppo, pathetic crumbled rubbles of past pretty paste
Aleppo, women mourning
Aleppo, men groaning
Aleppo, children moaning
Aleppo, wasted, as world silent watches
Aleppo, true, war profits some, war is a profiting business!
War funds Big Uncle Sam and his Allies’ economies
For Aleppo falls in silences of his bullish bragging democracies
Like Libya, like Syria, like Afghanistan, like Iraq……
All falls to their allied mercenaries
Women suffers, men labours, children’s-offers of overs
Aleppo, a wreck of debris, a forgotten woman
Aleppo, a ***** and left woman
Aleppo, a defiled and done man
Aleppo, a molested and mutilated child
Aleppo, a shell of hanging skeletons
Aleppo, bones and fleshes long gone
Aleppo, fallen, fallen into an eternal sleep!
Aleppo, fare-thee-well: Aleppo, rest-in-eternal-peace!
© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 2:24 AM UTC
. . . Bonjour,
Banque de
Bruxelles...
Bonjour,
beautiful
Betty!
Benjamin
Baker!
Barry
back?
Barry's
back—
Bye!
Bye,
Betty!
Bonjour,
Ben!
Barry
Beauchamp—
Brussels'
best
broker!
(Barry
blushing)
Benjamin
Baker—
Boston's
best
businessman!
Brokerage
balanced,
Barry?
Been
better ...
Been
better?
Bad?!
Below
benchmark :-(
Bygones
be
Bygones ...
Bullish
bearing,
Barry?
Best
be
bullish,
Ben!
Better
be
bullish,
Barry!
Brokerage
best
buy?
Best
buy?
Bonds!
Best
buy
bonds?!
"Be
bullish"
Barry?
Brighthouse
baby
bonds!
Brighthouse
baby
bonds?
BHFAL—
Balanced,
beneficial
buy.
Baby
bonds
bad
bet,
Barry.
Best
bullish
buy?
Bitcoin!
Bitcoin
bites,
Barry!
Bloomberg
broadcasted
Bitcoin's
bubble
bursting.
Best
bullish
buy,
BARRY??
Bullion
bars?
British
Britannia?
"Be
bullish,"
Barry!!
BEST
BULLISH
BUY??
BlackRock,
Buffett's
Berkshire—
Better
believe,
both
bullish
buys!
Bingo!
BlackRock,
Berkshire—
Buy
both!
BOOYAH!!
Bought!
Better
be
bullish,
Barry!
Bye!
Bientôt,
Ben!
© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 11:03 PM UTC
I hate school, but I love education
Sitting on that desk facing a projector
Class dismissed, tommorow she will ask me some questions
Not that I mind, but it's my mind that we are talking about
I still have to do my Personnel Training presentation on this same day
And I'm writting a test on friday
Sometimes I just feel like taking my school bag and go home and study by my self untill the exam days
My current President left school at the age of 10 years old
No Grade 3, No matric, No degree
Are we yet free?
Some of us do not need to go to school to be successful
Success is not an ocean
That we can all enter
You fail, they say "i'ts not the end of the world"
Say's who? They must be God
Bill Gates never finished school
Oprah never finished school
Can you please define the word "School"for me
Because my definition for "School" is "BullIsh"
School is the Prison of the future leaders! #Just saying it like it is..
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
We really ain't so smart
No we
We
All of the
Bullish-t category
--
Call ourselves -----Americans
Run around and talk about
Us and our guns
---
Waiting to starve to death
Or else get blown away
Talking all the time
With nothing to say
..
Lot needs getting done
But what?
Lotta hard feelings
Little love
-/---
Oh well
So we be!
.
Freely slaves
Talking bout being free!!
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 4:09 PM UTC
Ignite the sparkling fire in you
never doubt it's existence
a spirit vibrant shining through
with a cast iron resilience
Bring forth all fervour
strike a chord, stand by beliefs
state case and cause
don't hold back........release
Don't let vigour die in prime
ignore the critics lousy rhyme
allow your soul to sound it's chime
ring aloud to have it's time
Don't dim your ray, go have your say
let you be you and sod the crew
fight bullish men who stamp on stars
with iron rods and steel clad bars
Strong fires are hard to douse with words
a will so strong, no man can hurt
the flame of passion resolute
a challenge to any brute
A vibrant spirit shining through
with cast iron resilience
ignites a sparkling fire in you
never doubting it's existence
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
Brilliant and breathless, bending
language like a gardenia wreath
hanging from the rafters
of a sun-drenched mouth
that could only be mine.
Bullish and breathless, tangling
ellipses, clinging to a simile’s hem until it
trips and rips the thread of thought.
I don’t mean this as a manner of speech–
I speak without manners.
Billowed and breathless, humming
out of its skin and into mine.
Meaning is a feathery, fallible thing,
twisting, writhing, vanishing;
tough to trust, prone to rust,
words swirling and spun,
sea-tossed and salt-stuck
on a foreign tongue.
Beaming and breathless, flirting
with the edge of a rockwall,
a siren call,
more lullaby than warning shot,
more hymn than howl, a voice
that could only be mine.
Belated and breathless, underlining
the good lines, never shaking the bad,
plucking at the precipice, never leaping,
clamoring to be heard but never speaking.
A lot of words, but no poem.
A lot of pinch, but no push.
Graceless and glitching,
mine alone.
Jul 8, 2024
Jul 8, 2024 at 7:26 AM UTC
the vulpine duopoly
did skew terrific results
for their monopoly
they've been so bullish
in fashioning such great ends
it is quite freakish
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 1:58 AM UTC
Landfall...
a progress
nipped by headwind,
though his bullish heart
has flickered clear of drowning,
so he's dusting down
Saharan surplus, hawking
off the sea-sick yachts,
ensconced in royal chiffon,
appealing for that magnet-tug
along the pollen flyways
pulling homeward..
and
I wonder
if he sees me,
-mid shipped twitter
post Johannesburg-
a gurning
plate of swan-necked
adulation, craning skyward
that I should pin
my yearnings to his
cloud-encrusted orbits
caws of folly..
more fanciful
than summer being
borne upon his wings...
May 12, 2021
May 12, 2021 at 4:47 AM UTC
Hear me, my dear....
Let me pop up my plans
on this blue moon day delight
Your glittering eyes
Fluttered my shuttered heart
Your cherry cheers
shored up my sunken soul
Your melodious voice
Mellowed my bullish ego
Your bouncing beauty
spurred up my dormant passions
Your heart is my home divine
So sure I am for you
Your matchless features
Make me your perfect catch
May I warm up with your charm
And lead a princely life
of my princess choice?
For the blush of wife to be
Be the bliss of life that be
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
Bully, you are no gender. Your objective is to always dismember. you
are a scar, and drive that knife into my arm. but i always seem to be
strong, no matter the odds or participant you seem to draw i'm always
walking tall.
Bully why do you do what you do. trying to control my friends like
voodoo and take their lives with a combat knife but you don't hold the
knife they do... so thats why i say you smell like doodoo and you
won't dare put me through the things that they been through. thats
case i'm a strong emo
Bully you label people wit names that are sexist, rascit, and
sometimes full of bullish, but you won't ever change because evolve
wit age. saying the same things but in a different way, all in all it
still hurts the same.
Bully you try to disquise yourself as a friend in a form of a weak
link hurting the group from the inside. giving emo a bad name. and the
worst of it all you hide very well but you can't sell something that
you never had. meaning you can't fool me cause i see right through
you with your innocent lenes, and your non muscular figure, you mess
wit me i'll show you the real raff of a true ninja. but i'm censored so everyone know that i meant N***a.
Bully i'ma let you know that i am a
strong emo you will never enter nor hurt me though. and will never
take another life or influence another person to commit suicide nor
pull another razor against the arms of the weak and blind. cause as
long as i am alive. i will always come back for the dead and the ones
who has survived to stand against everything that you pride.
Bully you are loosing victims by the day and not because they are dead
but because they're getting strong like me. so pretty soon we will win
the fight in society and finally gain equality like the great martin
luther king always wanted.
BULLY DEAD SOMEDAY IN 2014
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 9:28 PM UTC
What is the burn?
I know it's there
like a child playing hot lava
on a floor with no white spaces
it fulfills all of my good graces
leaving me with a bullish bitterness
i thrive on this
its a feeling that no one could ever miss
yet i long for as i cling to the molten floor
it dismisses me as if i pretend to exist
its carefully curated within my lackluster structure
I am merely a byproduct of the painfully chilling burn
maybe i've grown cold, and its the burn of dry ice on my bare skin
maybe, it's within
I can take no action until i decide whether or not its fire or glacier
fore one wrong more will either cause me to melt or incinerate
but like i said, i've grown accustom and attached to the burning sensation
sometimes I have a drink with it and we cope through the inebriation
but at the end of the day, I sleep soundly on my smoldered sheets
thats the issue
I don't mind it anymore
i need to stay awake
I need to live
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 11:02 PM UTC
deceptions and perceptions were a thing of the past
enlightening me was foolish
thinking i could be risen was bullish
who did you think you were playing with?
i preyed on hearts every ******* day
did you really think you could be different?
deceptions and perceptions were calling for recognition
just how you asked how could i be so heartless
i tried to kiss you
but you never let me miss you
you think treating me right could change me?
theres nothing you could do to take me away from this bliss
of always ******* and missing
but the walls loved me
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
At night in bed, my teardrops drying
Trying hard to hear that sound
Sound of moving mountain thunder
Underneath my quilted down
Comfort me oh Great Mechanic
Panic has me faint and sick
Quicken now a firm believing
Grieving, my heart feels the *****
Far away my sister’s praying
Saying prayers to help my doubt
Shouting at beguiling spirits
Here, it’s lost...but I say shout!
Though we may not know it’s method
Death’d be the surest in
Sin's beautiful smothered in grace
Tracing your path...further up and in
Win the race thou good and faithful,
Bullish though you were at times.
Times, just being what these times are,
Far away we pray with rhymes
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 4:25 PM UTC
And thou did ask, and lo I brung
A bullish thing, nonsensical,
And thou discarded e'er too long
My gift, inconsequential;
Why ask me for to fetch for thee
A thing thou found detestable?
Thou know'st I pander aught for thee,
Yet treat me as divestable.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 9:21 AM UTC
Hear me, my dear....
Let me pop up my plans
on this blue moon day delight
Your glittering eyes
Fluttered my shuttered heart
Your cherry cheers
shored up my sunken soul
Your melodious voice
Mellowed my bullish ego
Your bouncing beauty
spurred up my dormant passions
Your heart is my home divine
So sure I am for you
Your matchless features
Make me your perfect catch
May I warm up with your charm
And lead a princely life
of my princess choice?
For the blush of wife to be
Be the bliss of life that be
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 5:06 AM UTC
The stars do not fall
with our might,
the universe has motivation
of its very own:
possession is a mirage
that takes hold
we die when we die
but there will always be
an endless light
being fed to the living below
Where a mother just gave birth
in a dreary hospital room
filled with loved ones and flowers
next-door to a man who died
alone, in the peak of June
on that same day
with the same replenishing light
reflecting in a perfect sky:
meaning is an illusion
that we create
Why make sense of things
that are better left on the shelf?
Answers are bittersweet
figments of "truth"
akin to religion
and its unfruitful ruse
for it is no secret that language
plays a fickle tune,
each voice with its own sacrilege
to project as a catalyst
unknowingly for the downfall
where we all lose
To a bullish sense of self
deemed more important
as people shout and yell,
it's unbeknownst to them
that self-righteous anger
is also best left
on the shelf
Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 8:11 PM UTC