"bushed" poems
City rush me
Pretty push
Did he see?
The wish on
Hard on_____
Sunday I thought
A rush of pluses +++
He won
Be on time if not - - -
Monday be
good to me
Rumors
Fantasy thoughts
I am
What I am
Not Popeye
Going day back
I need a third eye
I am
All free
Robin
Bird
From
everyone
Wait!!
Don't rush me
I love everyone______*
Newspaper's
Sunday
Daily
News
Poem
touchdown
My poem stood
With the others
I bowed ((Gladly))______
Waking up
To a Racers- mouth
Ray____ speed lover
No homework
All game
Sunday____
Candles burned
The House flamed
"Procrastinator"
I'll be back
"Destroyer-Terminator"
Coffee drug me percolator
He April fools her
Shopping Sunday
right up magnifying
dress
He is back
Not the future
Smart *** tricks
On the Escalator
He Jeremy irons out
her clothes
That's it!!!
Never rushed
on Sunday
To make
a mob hit
The call girls
Busy- tight pants
So Panicked Monday's
religiously
Hooked in
Scientology
So ****** in
Not to ever kiss
her on a
Sunday
He bunked into ((God))
Poem ritual bunk bed
Well NYC
Cabbie, he
will
never
take it
on Sunday
The big game
crazies
The flower
shops
of horror
Emptied
out with
Moms
Tiger
Lillies
Smelling
Mad Men hungover
Rush hour
Tv movie
Hangover
Jet game
Sprinkler
shower
Opening up
The door to his
apartment
Big Girly
hoarder mess
After a
long talk
night
Saturday Night
Brooklyn
The Disco Queen
bridge-sight
His Mom
is still oiling
His BMW Racecar
with
Hot fire Crisco
he
will never
be
rushed
out the door
His car
never
starts
Sunday
or a
Monday
Teased on
Tuesday
Wednesday
shes wild
Thursday
Ladies
drink
for free____
She got
her husband
to buy
her cushion
cut square
On Sunday
Do it or dare
She's
hanging
low
Times Square
Girly rough
Brooklyn
tough
Channel
blush
On Sunday
he is so
wired bushed
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 1:01 PM UTC
Dog Tired, Bone Tired, Dead Tired.
all in, beat, bored, burned out,
bushed, done in, drained, drooping,
exhausted, ****** fatigued, fed up, flagging,
just about had it, indifferent, knocked out,
out of gas, pooped, punchy,
ready to drop, spent, taxed,
wearied, wearing, wiped out, worn out
plain old zonked.
there are only two words, for which there are no precise, exact, synonyms.
To mind, they flash instantly,
For they are the constants in the equation of life.
**Love
Responsibility**
Man, can they make you tired!
But they are constants, so we accept and pray for ourselves
To accept them both with
Equanimity.
5:45am
August 24th 2013
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 5:49 AM UTC
What is an American?
Is it decided by the timber of our voice,
the strength in our limbs,
the blood in our veins,
or the color of our skin?
Tell me,
for I do not understand,
unfold your thesis,
inundate my mind with statistics,
be it quantum blood measures,
origin or sociological constructs of the creature in question.
Tell me,
what it is to be an American?
This umbrella term,
I just do not understand,
is it to be a thief?
A country founded on stolen land,
and stolen labor,
sage bushed bills,
backed by gilded structures and systems of debate and seizure,
is being an American drowning in leisure?
What does this term mean?
I find myself confused,
it is difficult to quantify the qualitative,
and breath life into lifeless chiseled forms,
found in squares and plazas throughout,
a country split by hard wired ferocity,
quicksand laden dividing lines,
the vocal deciding what it is to be,
and what it isn't.
*Careful lad,
there is such a thing as too much,
too much individuality,
so put up your hair,
put away the paint,
put away that sign,
sheath your weapon,
old boy,
this isn't your fight,
and besides,
what can you do with a toy?*
I don't know what America is,
land of the free,
where is that?
I see only industry,
a dying morality,
drowned in ethics,
a protestant-core built on overt inequality.
What does it mean to be an American?
I can't tell you what it means to you,
only what it means to me,
and so I say dust off the document upon which this term was built,
and realize that the past is not what you should use,
just as anything else of import,
use judgement,
agency,
the ability to choose,
uphold the freedom that suffocates in the back of your mind,
to the flame inside your chest,
to the weakness in your legs,
down against the sole of your shoes.
America is a country founded on rebellion,
a little man,
underdog all grown up,
and now he's the one throwing punches,
a story paralleled by Davidic tales,
and though he may not be perfect,
and is often reviled,
I love him still,
his rough edges,
for we are still part of the experiment,
ongoing,
the American dream.
Though the gates may be weighed down,
the hinges rusted,
a country of sojourners,
soon a country of minorities,
cultural pluralism,
though flawed,
I like it better this way,
a techni-colored mirage of what once was,
and if we must meet our end,
so be it,
guide me home,
for is it not true that all roads eventually wind home?
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
The seeker looks.
The seeker does not listen.
The seeker knows the voices in his head tell lies.
The seeker hides.
The seeker's bones become shadow.
The seeker knows not to let his muscles creak.
The seeker feels
Inside his pockets
Where he found Knowledge-Gnomes and carving tools.
The seeker sees
Through brass, rose-tinted goggles
And bushed eyebrows and bags that sank into his cheeks.
The seeker reads.
The seeker's hands touch parchment,
The seeker's hands feel ink, like a kings would gold.
The seeker knows all, yet nothing.
The seeker speaks all, yet nothing.
The seeker's wisdom, enchanted into every grain of sand,
And yet enchanted, still, into none at all.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 12:06 AM UTC
At a stirring in the orchard, she sharply turns.
monument-still she watches, lopes on.
Her mottled grey more coyote-like than *****
The fiery orange long gone from her wasted frame,
Her once-bushed tail, now hairless, drooping.
An aged ***** in her last winter, moved to stalk
in daylight, up the orchard to the treeline,
Once the hill's best hunter; each year her kits
ferocious players near the now dry brook,
Does she dream, I wonder, of those springs?
Leave her now to time, deep-denned,
where the last sleep's call ends hunger,
hid from the season's creeping chill.
Better there to finish than a trapper's snare,
Better this quiet ending in the vixen's lair.
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 9:41 PM UTC
Dog Tired, Bone Tired, Dead Tired.
all in, beat, bored, burned out,
bushed, done in, drained, drooping,
exhausted, ****** fatigued, fed up, flagging,
just about had it, indifferent, knocked out,
out of gas, pooped, punchy,
ready to drop, spent, taxed,
wearied, wearing, wiped out, worn out
plain old zonked.
there are only two words, for which there are no precise, exact, synonyms.
To mind, they flash instantly,
For they are the constants in the equation of life.
Love
Responsibility
Man, can they make you tired!
But they are constants, so we accept and pray for ourselves
To accept them both with
Equanimity.
5:45am
August 24th 2013
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
The sun is set it can’t be seen, still is day;
It is not dark, stars can’t be seen, night is here.
Not blue, not black, the clouds are just right;
Shading the horizon border,
combining black and light.
Haunting the sky, it just gets louder and louder;
What are these colors, so heavily pushed?
What is this odor, that binds me.. paralyzed, bushed?
My eyes see, lids are half shut;
My body can’t move,
it is busy dancing with the clouds.
These thoughts that I see,
they are not coming from me.
Who are you noble stranger?
..You who brings color to the clouds?
..You who makes it real even if I would dare not?
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
Hey time,
C’mon, it’s you.
‘Wanna bring you to a standstill
To get in touch with them.
Nicked and pilfered you are
Ended up missin’ too much of them,
A sting in my wits,
Conveyed my recall.
I sniggered and cackled,
As they beamed and grinned
Gulped nil yet bushed,
I’m kinda ******** now.**
How wintry the weather is,
For Christmas is roughly near
Today, I’ll close these eyes
Calling upon for their wellbeings.
(12/14/11 @Xirlleelang)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
Melancholy of the barrens
Gloom of the drowning winter sun
Shades of grey over the horizons
Dirge under the moonbeam
Can you hear me?
So dead and cold inside
So much hatred in your eyes
Can you feel me?
Angel face but a torchid soul
Flesh veiling a heart of stone
Do you breathe lies and are you high?
Did you smile when my hope died?
Do you remember me?
I see vendors in the aisles, selling dreams and lullabies.
I'll buy some for myself
In the palace of exile,
With you bushed into my mind
I will aestivate
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
My mother is home alone
And I am with my friends getting ******
I keep looking over my shoulders,
There's nothing weighing me down
Combed winter wind with my fingers
The sun is more tempting now
I can feel something in my head
It's like a thorn bushed into my brain
My name echoed around my ears
It has been years
Sad voices ***** my high
I am not mine
Your trust was murdered long ago
I've been to the corners you should never know
I'm coming home so don't you move
I swear to change, I swear on you
You be my guide and I'll follow
Take me home
The sun just drowned and it's getting cold
The night is young and I can feel your gloom
I'll be home by the brightest of the moon
It's the start of something beautiful
I'm coming home
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:40 PM UTC
***Disappointments got me to this misty road
Sluggishly cycling a creaking bicycle in a drizzle
While poisoning my bushed lungs with cigarettes***
*A replacement to my sweet medicinal marijuana
That I skipped for months, trying to be clean, to be good
But in my head there’s still a noise saying I need it so much
To feel powerful, for a day of greatness in nirvana
To forget that I needed someone to feel worthy,
Or so to create an apparition of a friend to whom
I can share my disappointments and success
While in reality I’m alone in boredom
Killing time and whatever I have,*
Oh Gaaad, sorry I feel weak
***My insecurities got me to this misty road
Sluggishly cycling a creaking bicycle in a drizzle
While poisoning my bushed lungs with cigarettes.***
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 5:59 PM UTC
Harsh rain against pavements.
Almost holographic, blistering.
Like the terrorized Atlantic.
Steady darkness filled with melancholy suns,
Fades to bushed static.
As I furrow --
Of the heartbeat I cannot fathom to catch.
Sweet mouthfuls of berries — hooks,
shadows.
Something —
Melts in the walls.
And I,
I am the arrow.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC
Scathed infected scabies
Rapper's turned **** rock and roll robot babies
Tomorrow wilt come?
Maby,
If I let it to be!!!
Drowned at sea
Bushed by curse
Raised in the outlands
Cities make it's church
Soldier turned killers
They've swept the faraway ditch
Where mothers give sons bombs
And religion the devil made his *****
The towers will bop and crumble
The dollar shalt be naught
Fakers will turn makers
Judges shalt turn cop
Rob as thou wilt
Smile as thou ****
Valuation shalt be thy stake
Break it or to make it
An open grace heartache
For as thou left thy king
Or forgot thy queen
Thine own god shalt forget thou
As many are seeking Savior's
The answers in the clouds!!!
Mixed in technological doom
A cell to every door
No missing of scented rooms
Just blanch of old day war!!!!
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
dawn's echo, tender or fierce,
takes grip of looser teeth. these
loser teeth, i won't eat anything
(again).
this cold, immutable. frost-
bushed lungs. you'll
figure it out before i do.
one by one, my motives
are culled,
sugar for some crueler
weather's onset. i just
wait, and in the end
lament all stillness. peace
takes time, but mine is
all wasted. as if i'd drink less,
though. you'll get sober and
i'll find another gutter.
for a moment, i
believed i'd turn out
okay. i just lost sleep
instead. dreamt of nothing.
you are what you dream.
wake up earlier every
day. turn. pass time inside
another headache.
this crestfall yields but
permanence. make it out
south. i could drown i could
drown i could drown i
could drown but my lungs
are already full of water.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
Her heart out of apathy
Nor of greif or cold
The pain behind her cloak
Mask of numbness,disguised
Silence bushed over her
In ribbons of broken promises
Recalling her blissful memories
When he embraced by the creek
Kissed her in the fall
And made her immortal in a single glare
Without even kissing at all
But Alas! The present is bleak
What's left after all false contentment
Are the symphonies of static orchestras
Holding her breath just to starve away
She loves and yet is forced to hate
Since everything was lost in play
But his one esthetic stare is
Whats haunts her night and day
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 4:15 AM UTC
My heart's been stabbed
Hurt
And broken
Not by love
But by life
Life was too much for my heart to bare
So I locked it up
And through away the key
I locked it so no one could reach it
No one
Not my parents
Not my peers
Not even me
It stayed like that for so long
Until you came by
You made me feel again
You busted the lock
And made yourself at home
I'm not joking
You bushed in
I don't think I can ever lock my heart again
You made me strong enough that I don't need to
You barged into my life
And knocked down all the walls
And broke all the locks
You did what no one ever did
You loved me for me
With all my oddities
My insecurities
My meanness
My everything
I know you'll never read this
But thank you
From the bottom of my open heart
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC
Massive water body in one-time quarry
colour blue like the sky and edges green with algae
offers untutored swimming episodes with man-bushed boys
I watch them float around like effortless swallows in the sky
hoping against hope that it can be me one day
on my back at ease like a log or diving deep
Big boy with breaking voice will carry me on his back
I strip and hike around the pool on his sinewy back
Again and again till my fears are lulled and I'm relaxed
These days I smile whenever I hear the monkey tell the buzzard:
Straighten up and fly right, for the boy shook me off
And made for the bank to watch me splash and nearly drown
With hindsight I know I should've told him to straighten up and swim right; but that's how you learn to swim among the boys
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC
Upon prima facie first blush
me mind's eye all atwitter,
sans long forgotten
"FAKE" ****** exploits
set mum (chrysos anthem) all aglitter,
boot like short order cook I hapt tubby
quickly realized trumpeting collusion,
a near fatal collision course
with Matthew Scott's antimatter
caw zing friggin insomnia
finding ma noggin scrambled
likesome lithesome cockamamie critter
whipped into frenzy
like battered butter
holy grits, alm manned in fight of ma life
cause I haint acquitter
baa (jaw edge), ah woe cup feeling
hedged hog extremely bushed 'n bitter,
this raging red bull inside me mind,
now body wheeling wickety wack,
lichen to moss elf gut seasonal litter
bitta asthma - insides
got balled into wah racket
like quietly rioting unfetter
herd plain tennis (see) hens,
gone south tub bespatter
ear rilly jawboning jabberwocky
reducing gray matter,
and all flesh sundered
into meaty platter
to pulverized, irradiated,
cremated... faux fluffernutter batter
analogous tummy Aunt
Jemima's famous flapjacks,
she fantastically fashioned better
than Betty Crocker
tossing spatulated glommed
**** suitable as bonesetter
high as the Taj Mahal,
while she merrily jabbered,
her native patois singsong blatter
all this inaudible clatter
muffled 10,000 maniacs mad as a hatter
madly clangorous dinner cowbells
aroused bacchanalian sybaritic skitter
ring jitterbugging fantasies
of barenaked ladies doth splutter
as bedraggled, frazzled, grizzled...poetry
like cocky rooster that did stutter!
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 3:00 PM UTC
Unfaithful marital transgressions
self admitted indictment,
crime and punishment,
no longer think high lee
entailing no mister re: demeanors,
I searingly weathered
(George by bushed, albeit thankfully,
no unwanted child left behind),
nonetheless one unforgettable
indelible, execrable, and abominable
professedly owned his
civil warring battle of life
transgressions undeservedly heaped
(Uriah hit about that)
(carnal feral hormonally seething
gone astray nightwalks)
woven by basket of deplorable
emotionally painful selfish object lesson
forever etched upon mine psyche
(left by one bobbing sponge -
cheeses crust station of his life
within sea of human life now
affixes moniker re: mister *****
inflicted courtesy yours truly
said marital indiscretion (philandering)
one among many issues discussed,
during treatment plan earlier today
February eighteenth 2020
concerning complex edifice
regarding mein kampf
existential bleak house
(figuratively crowded cheek to jowl)
with and hard times
fraught with many
unattained great expectations
unwittingly accepts psychological fallout
(among kissing kith and kin,
a shellfish chicken and hen thing for sure),
despite years elapsed ex post facto
deploying, incorporating, narrating, signifying...
narcissistic, opportunistic, and phlegmatic
self incriminating doom
visualize deus ex machina
betrayal rendered adopted smugness
invariably set in motion domino effect,
whereby emotional alienation
devastation, humiliation, maturation, suppuration
(yoking impossible mission
to shuck off penitence, the price to pay),
thus rightfully, truthfully, and veritably...
ably, readily, and willingly
allowing, enabling, and providing
incomplete resolution, (hence iresolution)
thwarting rancor thy deux daughters
(livingsocial many time zones distant)
embark quest to guide their own
metaphorical maiden voyaging ships of state
countless transpired hours
at counseling facility, where poetic papa
aired and mulled over bothersome
anguish to complete requisite treatment plan
to receive psychiatric appointment
next (and last) Tuesday of February 2020.
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 10:43 PM UTC
Turn onto
Trap grounds
Spend a moment
Curated Eden
Silver bushed
Wet scuffing squirrel
Shoots under
Rooted upturn of trunk
Slakes back
Hairy tendril roots
Finger away
Dappled heat
Old breath of rhubarb
Chokes
Stumble drunk elder
Fizzes nose
Alerted fresh
Up there hear
High branched breath
Look down there
Mushroom home
At foot
Lowly mauve
Modest flesh
Penetrate deep
Immense
Deep dark
Wet dark
Soil
Absorbs
Thunderous
Footfall
Unperturbed
Nov 9, 2024
Nov 9, 2024 at 8:19 AM UTC
The Australian bushland;
A menagerie of sound and life
Step back from distractions
And walk wild, rife.
Rekindle your inner animal
And free yourself; flee!
Oct 11, 2024
Oct 11, 2024 at 9:28 PM UTC