"bunt" poems
Something don't feel right
something is coming down
something going on below
something...
has all gone wrong
and the bomb is about to blow
mankind went after nature
and thought he won the race
but the verdict coming in is
that we're all headed
for death row
now we all are wearing
masks of ignorance
pretending we didn't know
it was gamble every time
we picked between two evils
to lead us down
our long descent
we like to blame the snake
for all the fruit we poison
but we knew all along
we were sleeping
with the devil
while dressing up like sheep
ba ba the witch is dead
don't you remember
we bunt her for our sins
and ate all of her children
because we feared
they were descendants
of the wolf
yet we still think
we hold the blessing
of the glory of some god
as if our acts of treason
against the higher power
have gone unnoticed
our hands may be clasped
in prayer
but behind the curtain
we're watching war
fist **** mother nature
like a *****
imaginary lines divide us
from one another
as we volunteer to spill
each others blood
until the oceans overflow
with all our spoiled milk
the coastline is moving in
and Noah can't build an ark
big enough for our ego
we're going to have to start
believing in evolution
because we're going to need
some gills
and hope Atlantis is kinder
to us than we have been
to each other
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 7:09 AM UTC
I love baseball.
The smell of the grass, the crack of the bat, the pop of ball hitting mitt.
I love baseball.
The friendship, the camaraderie, the seed shells littering the ground.
I love baseball.
From behind home plate, to the on deck circle, to the bullpen in right center field.
I love the fist bumps I recieve, entering the dug out after a well placed sac-bunt.
I love the hollers and cheers when the ball flies over the fence.
I love seeing the other players and knowing they love the same things as me.
Standing on the top step of the dug out, impatiently waiting for my spot in the lineup.
I love watching my shortstop tag out runner after runner.
I love my pitcher hitting his spots and I love our left fielder diving for pop flies.
I love catching and blocking ***** in the dirt.
I love the bruises I find on my body after every game.
I love keeping my foot on home plate before throwing over to first on a double play.
I love seeing the lights and hearing the cheers, knowing they're for me, my team, my sport.
I love baseball.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 12:51 AM UTC
some days, his eyes are full with angst
his arms down his sides, with his fists as closed as his ears
and all I want to say is *I know how it is
to be so angry you don't know where to go
because the whole world lights you up like a dry stick of explosives,
how it is to have your feelings being so big they start to feel
like extensions of your limbs,
waving uncontrollably
and all you can do to avoid their friction from setting you on fire
is either to cut them off or keep your arms down your sides*
but I step aside, because he can no longer take in my words
his six year old eyes are filled with the nothingness of
an anger so big and unlabeled
but someday, I will tell him and he will understand
I will tell him that even though my blood is not in his veins,
I will cleanse it from soot and silt,
I will be his human shield from this world
I will tear kingdoms apart and slay every last creeper
just to help him level up
and I will uncontrollably, explosively and unconditionally
love him
//
vissa dagar är hans ögon fyllda med ångest
hans armar längs sidorna, med nävar lika hårt stängda som hans öron
och allt jag vill säga är att *jag vet hur det är
att vara så arg att du inte vet vars du ska ta vägen,
för hela världen får en att tända som en torr bunt sprängämnen,
hur det är att ha känslor så stora att de börjar kännas
som förlängningar av dina egna armar och ben,
okontrollerbart viftande
och allt du kan göra för att förhindra att deras friktion tänder eld på dig
är att antingen hugga av dem eller hålla armarna längs sidorna*
men jag går undan, för han kan inte ta in mina ord längre
hans sexåriga ögon fyllda med ingentinget
av en ilska så stor och oettikerad ilska
men någon dag ska jag berätta för honom och han ska förstå
jag ska berätta för honom att även fast mitt blod inte flyter genom hans artärer,
ska jag rensa det från smuts och sot,
jag ska vara hans mänskliga sköld från den här världen
jag ska slita kungariken itu och döda varenda creeper
bara för att hjälpa honom att levla upp
och jag ska okontrollerbart, explosivt och villkorslöst
älska honom
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 4:46 AM UTC
Yes.
I know.
It is irrational for me to think like this.
I poke holes, second guess
and jackhammer at my own foundation.
But, you see, I do care even when
I come off as crass or I dishearten
your image of me.
I
Just
Can't
Stop
Myself
These destructive feelings
and urges towards relationships
are deep rooted in a fear
of abandonment.
I'm a battered man.
Batting below average.
Yet, every chance I get
I bunt or try to get hit
because that's more comfortable to me
Than swinging and missing.
But I do care. I really just don't know how to show it.
I hold on too long to brief moments
that seem to pass from memories
as if I stole them. I'm just nostalgic.
It's the little things that are big to me
and the silly stuff that resonates profoundly.
I do understand though.
The burden of my depression
rests solely on my shoulders.
It's not something I can brush off or
roll over. I just hope that you all
bear with me as I tunnel my way
out of this insanity.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
**It's 5:00 pm,
any poems to share?**
*my watchwoman, Seamless Siri,
my conscientious conscience,
gives said inquiry daily,
at the precise heure de rigeur,
with the perfection of a
mechanized soul attending to her
imperfect human programmer
poetry, a sometime thing,
comes when it comes,
what the query,
my godmother faerie,
truly seeks knowledge of is
something she cannot measure,
like my counted steps and distances travelled,
what this overseer mine truly seeks to know*
why am I here?
*Here. On this earth. On this site.
have you any new written proofs,
your existence on this day to justify,
were your failings and flailings,
surpassed by any acts of kindness,
this new, freshest penmanship, a reflection,
an accounting of grace and worth,
blogged and logged here
as if only I had
one day,
one poem
left...
at tabulation time, the incisor bites,
are you juiced or morbid,
this, your essayed life,
are the words,
deemed shareable,
is their value,
calculable palpable?
Siri inquires but you are jury
at the late afternoon
trial by fire,
wherein my singed bunt offerings
are produced
at the
wake of when,
my nom I do append
am I deserving
of your recompense
of one more day,
one more poem?*
~~for Harlon~~
5:13 pm
November 21, 2015
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
Its been weeks and still there isn't a moment i escape your memory.
I tried the bottle and it only made me find the depths of emptiness that dwell within my soul.
I know my life has come to its closing moments I watch it fade a sunsets reprise sitting upon the sandy shore .
I no longer give a **** to fight I wish only to allow the tide to consume what is left and nothing more .
We are all bunt out buildings from the wars waged upon ourselves .
Now let the dark waters give rest where torment once stood on full display.
I am tired beyond my years no longer content to simply exist were once I rode the wind .
My choices are but my own never try to follow another footsteps for there shadows cast will freeze you out in there ego's nature by design.
There is no more lines left .
The ink as blood no longer does course through my veins.
I'm simply waiting on the tide to take what's left away.
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 10:18 AM UTC
It was the best I’ve seen
They said about me
And my parents were happy
I don’t know why that matters
I wasn’t, but I was proud
And there’s a difference
Pride’s something you can wrap up in
Happiness is a window display
Success was mine, and nothing could change that
We won, because of me
And I’m a winner
Today it’s in the papers
But that’s the last time it was
Because I stopped trying
Maybe if I wanted to
I could lay one down again
Then I’d jump
And ****** my arms
I look to left field and my smile crosses space and time
Jul 10, 2010
Jul 10, 2010 at 1:00 PM UTC
Just maybe...
Just maybe I can have the life I want.
Just maybe I could have a Ferrari in the front.
Just maybe I could hit a home run, no bunt.
Just maybe I can find the red X on this treasure hunt.
Just maybe...
Just maybe I can breathe words of life.
Just maybe I can inspire someone to fight.
Just maybe I can help someone get through the night.
Just maybe...
Just maybe I will be more than what others believe.
Just maybe I will make people regret for their disbelief in me.
Just maybe I can make people feel naive for not believing I can achieve.
Just maybe I can have a great life that God has weaved for me.
Just maybe...
Just maybe I will find someone who will be there when I fail and when I succeed.
Just maybe I will find someone who makes me feel relieved.
Just maybe I will find someone who will fight for me.
Just maybe that's all I need.
Just maybe...
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC
All of your walls
Keep me in the dark
And so block my attempts
To win your heart
I've had escorted tours
To the edge of your life
Bunt never allowed too close
To the feelings you hide
You seem to keep your emotions
Tied, locked, and bound
Afraid to share your soul
For fear of being let down
I have come with hopes
I can find my way inside
That you see who I really am
Let me breathe love into your life
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 7:09 PM UTC
Don't call a women a ****
they don't like it.
And don't tell a batter to bunt,
they want to smack it.
And whatever you do,
don't try and give your
cat a bath in the tub with
that Mr. Bubble ****
he'll scratch you.
When your boss gives you the
newly revised employee handbook,
don't say, that ****** it went
on and on and on.
There was no plot, and I
couldn't figure out, who in the
hell the antagonist was.
And one more thing,
if you fall in love and you
think you found your
soul mate, and it doesn't work,
and you feel like your
heart is being ripped out
through your nose,
don't give up.
Because the right one is
out there, somewhere waiting,
and who knows, maybe they have
a cat that likes baths and
blow-dryers, and being dressed
up like an Oompa Loompa from
***** Wonka and the
Chocolate Factory,
it could happen...
Don't give up.
Nov 12, 2023
Nov 12, 2023 at 12:18 PM UTC
Lots, A Ton
Having a taste of a sweet bun
Don't know the meaning of none
Can't stop once it has begun
I am never done
With having fun
I am not to old
I have no grandsons
You will not see me with a shotgun
I will always have a water gun
How fun !!
I am free
You should come hang with me
The fun will proceed
Trust me !!
You see!!
I do not give a **** !!
Always doing what I want
Fun, I flaunt
***
My house on the lake front
Lets just say I do not bunt
But sure the hell can grunt...WINK
Not over with, at a blink
I will bring you to the brink
**** straight I am the missing link
Drink !
Drink !
Drink !
While those champagne glasses clink
Oh yes it is exactly what you think
Believe me you will not rethink
LIFE DOES NOT STINK
HAVE SOME FUN
!!!
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC
I’m effusively bellowing inside.
Internally drowning from within,
Tears no longer mine but hers.
For the death of whom I’m crying.
Icicles in the moonlight now seem colder to me.
Cold yet they still warm my heart.
Sights of frost will certainly,
Make shudder, lovers apart.
Those who have lost are in torment temporary;
Torment which distance brings.
If only they knew they would be again,
No significance would there be for rings.
She choreographed a dance as old as time,
Men moved to her demands.
Butting and rutting for her attention they crave,
With expectations of fanciful chance.
Never will it be, for her intention is to self satisfy.
Dangling the bogus carrot of possible love,
In front of their antlers, only to turn away,
As soon as she deems it enough.
But wherein she choreographs, and that with which she conducts,
Plays success but only for short,
Since consumption of razzle dazzle, done so for long enough,
Will guarantee her life be cut short.
Knowledge of this is information on which to act.
Act we can, but listen with open ears and mind she will not.
And so she brings us to the sorrowful point,
Although temporary, bare this torment I cannot.
Such a cruel and foreseeable demise predicted by all.
Foresee it she could not since blinded by her origin,
Of facile masks which paved her the way,
And follow with closed eyes she did, to her ending.
On such innocence will the masks master play.
Naivety and kind willingness he will hunt,
For the trustworthy targets, easy to accumulate,
Using pornia to distract as males bunt.
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
I came, saw, and conquered bunt in the end had second thoughts.
Through all that time I lost friends and family, but many of those hands kept me afloat. As I came, I lived like there was no tomorrow, but tomorrow came.
I saw, a want to be heroine but just a plain Jane.
I conquered, as it was an outcast pick last, surprised them all.
But with all the fame and fortune, in the back of my mind said,” it was worth it I think?”
For I was and now I am not
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
The caos
How it became necessary that I come I do not know.
For almost twenty years All I knew was fun, fun, fun.
I was not told about other phases,
Everyone I know wore a smile on their faces,
Growing to become a man on daily basis,
Just staring at every with zero gazes,
And I was left unarmed for worst cases.
Where is the life I used to know?
When did it became the caos?
Now I am grown, images begin to form pictures,
I have been weaned from the allusion of years.
Now I am grown, with meaning to every sound, music no longer lay to waste around me, I understand the unspoken messages now.
Now I am grown, lost some friends and made new ones, I see beyond the struggle for the stick- sweet now, men want more than a stick they want the whole forest.
Now I am grown, wishes grew wings and flew away, dreams became slurry, excitement turned disappointment.
Who would have thought that the once Rosy life would turn so messy.
Where is the life I used to know?
When did it become the caos?
Greed and selfishness became partners to power,
So many blind men pursuing it,despirate to wield it.
Bitterness and anger became friends to the follower, successfully taking away humanity replaces it with kin cruelty.
Hate called vengeance and together they visited brothers, inciting a cold war.
Lies took hypocrisy to pay a visit to the house of the Supreme one, met his Clergy and became his friends.
Where is the life I used to know?
When did it become the caos?
Blood over blood.
Skin over skin.
Black over black.
White over white.
White over black
System over standard.
State over people.
Power over Right.
Force over choice.
Merit over worth.
Where is the life I used to know?
When did it become the caos?
How it became necessary that I come, I may not know.
Now it has become necessary that I stay, stay to know why i came.
For every sweat that dropped in the struggle for existence. I will stay.
For every voice that was silenced and stuffed with grunt. I will stay to know why I came.
For every tears that rolled against the joy that would have leaped. I will stay.
For every believe that was jacked away and replaced with skepticism. I will stay to know why I came.
For every stronghold that was plunderd, exploited and bunt down to ashes.
I will stay, Do my part and influenced those around me to do it like we would have had it, because we must stay to know why we came.
It could stop to be a caos someday if we stay and stay to the course.
Jun 15, 2020
Jun 15, 2020 at 10:31 AM UTC
All you can do is cover me in lies
With tomorrow's tears dripping from my bones
You Skin me and hang me to dry
When you're done with me
You leave me alone
As I fade
into the smoke I made
When I bunt myself with the cigarette
You lit for me
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
From what I’ve been able to glean
It has somehow become routine
That we constantly repeat this scene
Now it’s Oregon close to Eugene
That a gunman let his bullets fly
In a college but we don’t know why
Or what was the deal with this guy
And did those ten have to die
Don’t it seem as if we’re at war
Doesn’t that call for a change in the law
How can we continue to ignore
The voices of those who implore
Us to come to our senses
Because this is becoming expensive
In lives lost which are extensive
So why do we remain so pensive
And if I may be perfectly blunt
Who needs an assault weapon to hunt
Though Conservative will probably bunt
Ain’t it time that we finally confront
This illness that we seem to have
What will be the curative salve
Hasn’t anyone done the math
If it wasn’t so tragic I’d laugh
So tell me what’s it gonna be
Cos I’m sure that we all agree
If we don’t like the carnage we see
Somehow we have to break free
How long will we tolerate
This issue which should dictate
That we can no longer wait
As we watch the death rate inflate
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 9:14 AM UTC