"buts" poems
***** ***** I **** *****
***** get ****** when I **** *****
No ifs, ands, and/or buts!
I **** ***** I **** *****
Nice girls are nice, but no good for nut-sucking.
They'll need a serene night to green-light a butt-fucking,
but that'll be easy with ****** ol' slut-fucking!
Boo to the nice girls! Praise be to slut-fucking!
I have a list. A list? Yes, a list of all the ***** I've missed.
I've never ****** or ****** these ***** and thus my nuts are ******* ******
So when I **** the lucky **** my nut removes her from the list---
another dumb cumbucket struck from my nut-sucking,
**** it, **** slut-fucking bucket list.
***** can be white, brown, pink, or almond.
They can be skinny with big **** or skinny with small ones.
***** can be perky, preppy, or posh,
with their brains and their clothes all shrunk from the wash.
But other ***** are pretty and funny and smart.
They can lift your thoughts from your **** to your heart.
They can talk about science, music, or art.
They can put you together or pull you apart.
But don't trust these ***** Don't! Don't you dare!
They'll force you to trust them and love them and care.
And then they'll be gone and then you'll be aware
of that hole in your heart that that dumb **** left there.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
"Please, daddy!"
You were walking so fast.
Too fast for my little feet to keep up.
Was it that easy for you to leave me?
You heard my tear-filled screams, but you never stopped.
You just kept going.
Farther and farther away, not even trying to get one last look at me.
I punched, pulled, and pushed trying to make you stop.
You didn’t.
You just kept going.
Leaving me behind.
"Please don’t leave me!"
Pain.
I remember it too well.
The heart throbbing pain.
We watched as you left.
Me and mommy.
My eyes were wet.
Hers were dry, cold.
As if she knew this would happen.
I looked into mommy's eyes.
Her brown eyes tangled with lies.
Lying to me for you.
How long do I have to wait for you before you realize that what you did was a mistake? What was the reason you stayed away for so long?
Was it all the stupid crap you did in the past or is it because you don’t want me anymore?
Since you left, I dreamed of your return.
The day you would wrap me in your arms and whisper in my ear,
"*I'm sorry for what I did. I promise I will never leave you again,
my little Cookie Monster*."
Then I wake up, hoping to see you.
Praying that it wasn’t all a dream.
But reality soon caught up, and the dream quickly died.
I remember all the tears I had rushing down my face
as I saw you leave me and mommy behind, to never return.
I'm so incomplete without you, I need my daddy back in my life.
You deceived me, you said you would always be there.
You pinky promised.
You broke your promise.
How can I trust you again?
Do you still think of me as your "cookie monster" or
a daughter you never loved, a daughter you could leave behind without a single goodbye in the blink of an eye? I wish you were here to watch me grow up but we both know that will never happen.
"*I miss you so much! Won’t you please come back to me, daddy?
I just need to see your face one last time*."
Am I that disappointing I need to work to make you love me?
“Hey, daddy even if you don’t love me I will always love you no matter what happens.”
I bet you didn't even think about how I would feel when you left.
No, you only thought of yourself like you always do.
You missed all my birthdays, first dates, father-daughter dances,
and you may even miss my wedding, not that you even care.
Did you know that I would wait for the postman to bring the mail and check to see if there was a letter for me? But there never was.
I eventually stopped going, knowing nothing was there for me.
"*Well, daddy looks like you really didn't care about me buts it's in the past. Now I have a family who loves me, stays with me, and likes for who I am.
I don't need you anymore*.”
Daddy, I still need you. Please, come back.
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
The lawyers, Bob, know too much.
They are chums of the books of old John Marshall.
They know it all, what a dead hand wrote,
A stiff dead hand and its knuckles crumbling,
The bones of the fingers a thin white ash.
The lawyers know
a dead man's thought too well.
In the heels of the higgling lawyers, Bob,
Too many slippery ifs and buts and howevers,
Too much hereinbefore provided whereas,
Too many doors to go in and out of.
When the lawyers are through
What is there left, Bob?
Can a mouse nibble at it
And find enough to fasten a tooth in?
Why is there always a secret singing
When a lawyer cashes in?
Why does a hearse horse snicker
Hauling a lawyer away?
The work of a bricklayer goes to the blue.
The knack of a mason outlasts a moon.
The hands of a plasterer hold a room together.
The land of a farmer wishes him back again.
Singers of songs and dreamers of plays
Build a house no wind blows over.
The lawyers--tell me why a hearse horse snickers
hauling a lawyer's bones.
5.6k
Diet wine from the consumer grape vine
Bleached persona with hair aflame
Paying money for more of the same
Trade time for cash
Cash for time
Regardless, part of the assembly line
Thirsty for more
More of what?
Does not matter
No, and, ifs, or buts
Need it now and need it fast
Falling quickly
Knowing this will never last
That bottomless gap
At these plastic branches, you will try and grasp
But hold your weight?
Hahaha, no
These types of things come and go
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
Depression isn't always hidden cuts underneath sweaters. It's not always sad music & rainy days. It's sometimes the girl who's always smiling with the sad eyes. It's your friend who always has a joke for you. It's the thin line between insanity and being too sane. The slope of your mouth that doesn't curve all the way into a smile when your thoughts become to heavy for even the hundred of muscles in your mouth to upturn. It's driving a car at 130 miles per hour and wondering how it felt to hug a tree, a numb pain that you can't feel, buts it's everything you feel. It's alcohol going down, down, down until your feelings are higher. It's medication, it comes and goes, always lingering like your allergies on the first day of spring
It's dedicated to you, seeping into your bones like the poison you take up your nose to drown out the inner demons
It's toxins slowly spreading and dissolving your strength and making you wish you weren't you
Depression isn't always black and white.
It's the brightest of teeth that flash the friendliest smiles; sunshine and birds. Because depression doesn't discriminate appearances, she doesn't care who she overcomes and overthrows. Her victims are her best friends and she's patient and she'll wait until your very worst day to come throw her arm over your shoulders and pretend she's there for you, feeding herself with the way your feeding into her shadows.
Depression is everywhere
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
Being lazy digs a huge grave
For our peace and won't save
A lazy fellow is never brave
He is to fate a submissive slave
Taking action he will shun
Success shows him no affection
God gives him no protection
He belongs to the losing section
A lazy man gets no sweats
Tears become his constant assets
He uses buts and loses guts
He is depressed for lack of outlets
He lies lethargically in his bed
To be passive, thinks his head
Mentally he is almost dead
His is a very negative blood
Great chances he regularly misses
He is deprived of victory's kisses
A working mind, he does not possess
He never gets success as a bonus
His brain is so lazy *** idle
Everything is to him a riddle
He is afraid of every hurdle
His life, fate will finely meddle
Work makes him fear and faint
Gloom only his thoughts paint
Against him accumulates complaint
His mind, laziness will strongly taint
Progress tells him good-bye
He is an unattractive guy
His life-river is ever dry
Only laziness, he can supply
Idleness may be initially jolly
But it is not at all holy
Angels like it not wholly
Unless he starts a venture newly
If laziness is away kicked
Losses can be wisely licked
If laziness is wrongly picked
By fate, lazy man is tricked.
M V VENKATARAMAN
Mar 24, 2010
Mar 24, 2010 at 6:25 AM UTC
There is a certain romance of incomplete stories
and unrequited passion....
A certain heroism , in unfulfilled ambitions and sacrificed wants ...
(There is also
Selfishness in altruism,
Mockery in humility...
Fragility of pretenses,
Deception of senses,
Armors of sensitivities...
all those nitty gritties,
paradoxes that haunt
etc, but then...)
Sometimes this happens,
love stays and we go.
Sometimes this happens,
there is no beginning, nor end:
through “ifs” and “buts”
priorities distend
the space between, what is seen and what has been.
I picked your hopes with my eyelashes
and thatched together a shade for us
You caught my fall in the web of your thoughts,
softening for me, the landing, and thus,
we built a dream.
Sometimes this happens
the stars are buried in the desert sands
the lines dissect though you’re holding hands
but for the heart that understands....
it’s all divine. Not yours nor mine.
Sometimes this happens
one understands, but it’s not enough
one knows, but accepting is still pretty rough
You may have all ingredients
but you still need a “here” and a “now”
no question of why? or what? or how...
Sometimes this happens
the wait becomes unbearable
so remember that you know....
time is deceptive
and it’s already tomorrow in Tokyo
Arshia.
Nov 26/27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 2:17 AM UTC
It is
And it's changing
The wind into summer shower
Into mushrooms and birds mouth
From river to the sewer
It is and it's changing
From dark to light to dim with
Speckles of sun born by the
Mirror in you childlike hand
You are catching dust bunnies
Sneezing and laughing
And the dirt could be followed by magic
And the kiss isn't greased by the notion
Of sin and the sin is only a word from the book
Death and insanity
Are frightening and profound
Your world is built from
No buts but ands
And they flow into peace
Just as well as the film of oil
On the ***** puddle
Astonishes you with
An iridescent rainbow
Duality is born by fear
You split and separate so
Caught up in the survival game
To keep that face and partake
Of wealth and fame
Empty is locked in the dungeon
And the words interlock
In plain patterns
Yet alive as they produce sounds
And the smell of tangerines
On a tree by the coast of Sicily
Reminds you of the day
When you could still enjoy
The warmth of sun
It absorbed into its juicy flesh
And there's no need to run
No need to stay
No need to cut off the ties
When life offers you more
And the heat and cold are feelings
That gets names as they replace each other
As they flow unstoppable
Dripping reactions
Burning like acid and smooth like milk
All in one glass
And when you have no thoughts
Ask questions
And when you feel the pain
Stay present and consider humanity
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 9:43 AM UTC
Same **** different day
But today is New Year's Day
....Same **** different day
Hung over
New Year's Eve leftovers
Stuck on resolutions & do overs
Picking up the broken pieces & starting over
I headed to work with every intention to make it all better
Then I picked up "Friday's paper"
Said it once then said it twice
A part inside felt a little less safer
Homeboy died in Friday's paper
police Closed his eyes
but he finally feels a lot safer
Mommas screaming why in Friday's paper
Rather die than suffer & stay alive
Spend eternity w| her angel
Because in her eyes
There's no survival
Where's God when all you know is sinning
Baby's hungry so he prepared to break in
But that's not what they saying
Friday's paper headline **** break in"
He want the money & the drugs
So he break in
Food ain't enough & he breaking
How can he step forward in a world they already set locked gates in
In other words segregation
Buts it's decades later
Yea well you know segregation
White privilege
Under one nation
**** ain't nothing different
Just ask Friday's paper for confirmation
Poor white man w| mommy issues
finally had enough & shot up the whole school
Young black **** shot cs his black hoodie ain't seem too cool,
Ok Amber we coming to the rescue
Tyrone got kidnapped who?
I know y'all see this
or do y'all got a blind eye too
cs there's no reason why we have to fight to survive
while you ask daddy for a check or two
I'm living off a check or two
& you need 3 bathrooms to survive
why does the law apply to me
more than it does to you?
How do you look down on me
when I created you?
Lip injections,
hair extensions
ghetto expressions
that ain't you
but here comes Friday's paper right on cue
Zendayas dreads are unacceptable
twerking is ghetto too
While "keeping up" with the exact life you ridicule
then have the caucacity to put it in Friday's paper too
-G
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 11:46 AM UTC
Pills, pills for the mentally ill
The more you take, the worse you'll feel
So down the hatch
Yep down your throat
Very soon you'll be wearing this coat
A hug me jacket tarnished in white
With buckles and straps wound so tight
But for now some side effects I wrote
Down here on this pretty little note
Increased thoughts of suicide
And harsh voices to which you can't hide
Nausea, drooling, and anxiety too
And whoever seems to be "after you"
We'll put you to sleep
You won't make another peep
Strap you to a cozy bed where you'll slumber
Pump you till you're as cool as a cucumber
To which we'll add you to our lovely garden
No ifs, buts, or beg your pardons
What's the matter?
You seem unwell
You're as mad as a hatter
This I can tell
So don't start a spell
Don't start a clatter
We'll pick up those pieces to which your mind has shattered
Just take this pill
In fact why not stay
You're better off here anyway!
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 7:31 PM UTC
Even the best laid plans go wrong,
The unexpected comes along.
Before you know it, suddenly,
You are in new territory.
When that happens what do you do?
Do you give up or see it through?
'Tis a decision you must make...
To give up or a risk to take.
You may decide to take a chance,
To fly by the seat of your pants,
You might stick with it, come what may,
Just let the chips fall where they may.
Or choose to play it safe you may,
Retreat to fight another day,
Decide the risk is just too great
With too much left to chance, to fate.
Perhaps it is a hunch, your gut,
The weighing up of ifs and buts
That helps you reach a decision
That which for you is the right one.
You and you alone have to choose
And whether you win or you lose,
Your reasoning to you is known,
The decision but yours to own.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 10:03 AM UTC
Inside the Masonite
The contour lines aren't dark enough
Left behind a stark remark
Start as a lark in the dark
And you're smart for standing there
Behind the mines
But on top of boxes
And piles of boxes
Cigarette buts on the curb, left behind from following the curb line
Down the road
Around the mounds and above the dips
Follow the curb line up
Don't fall into a drain
Because the drains will always lead you somewhere
But they always end
And they're never clean
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
Drugs you should try it.
Buts drugs I am afraid to try.
The ones I'm told will block hurt,
are the same I am afraid will put me in the dirt.
Because these drugs I yearn to try
The drugs that should get me high;
are the same drugs that bring you back by.
Drugs I should try it.
Not sure when or why.
But these drugs I'm told to try
Are the same drugs that make me cry.
And these drugs I get told to try
will be the last drugs I use to fly
Drugs we should try it might the reason we're made to die.
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 3:52 AM UTC
I wonder if my late night plays
Will ever be relayed
To a generation that is slayed
In my play every black home
Has two stories, a fence
and a dad that won’t roam
Their cars ain’t all chrome
No bars on the windows
No grandmas saying lord knows
When cops shows
There are more colors than grey
No dope boys on the corner cliche
Or dogs on chains barking to get away
The colors blue and red stand for a flag
The black youth aren’t in a body bag
And pants never sag
Black men aren’t scary and mean
The system isn’t their adversary or
The silver screen
They don’t fill cemeteries nor chase
The color green
Black women have a name
Not ***** or **** used as shame
No fakes buts for their fame
The son has more hope
Then shooting a ball and ****** bout dope
He aspires to use a stethoscope
The daughter is strong and free
She can either write a song or get a PhD
Her future is whatever she wants it to be
Their ain’t thugs on tv our color
Not every sitcom has one strong black single mother
Or get drunk and fight one another
Gun violence is a joke
the police don’t chock our folk
Our music don’t promote drug use
And Gucci don’t ******
Drivebys are now hi’s
Every family is woke and wise
It’s sad to know
That this world won’t ever exist
Because the world outside
Is to nightmarish
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 9:11 PM UTC
well i'm not good at math, so i guess i'm not smart
and i don't care about you, so i don't have a heart
your perception is off, but what else would you expect
from a person who tries to simplify all that is complex
like race and gender, it's not like you think, it's not set in stone
and the stereotypes that you speak chill me to the bone
"not be racist but" is not a way to start a sentence
there's no "buts" in racism, could you show some repentance?
well, not to be racist, but white people are *****
and not to be sexist, but all men are ******
and i'm getting tired of all of your ignorance
how does it feel to be full of intolerance?
you see the world through one narrow view
has anyone told you that you haven't got a clue?
you can't put people in boxes, we are so much more
we're filled with infinities that simply won't fit in a drawer
each mind is a galaxy, well, i guess maybe not yours
and you're so afraid of what you don't know
so get out of this world, i think it's time you go
because no one likes racists, ********** or jerks
being a ******** won't get you any perks
it's about the heart, not about the face
we're all a part of one single human race.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 11:24 PM UTC
Forming words to say what no one ever thought you would.
Spoken word gives people a chance to ride the waves of the syllables that roll off your tongue, to be engulfed into an ocean of self expression.
Spoken word is a story. A story that no one would have even believed if it was never conveyed in such a way the evoked so much emotion.
Spoken word is the ability to reach out to people on a different parallel.
when you open up its spread light, it allows people see an entire world that they never knew existed.
When you become transparent and turn all of your if’s, and's, and buts into something great you show people what they need to see, not what you want them to see.
And the words that so gracefully roll of your tongue become all of the things that they have never wanted to admit, Being vague has never allowed so much emotion and desire to aroused all at once.
Spoken word is an art that is within everyone's grasp, but only few have ever taken the advantage to capture it.
you can’t exactly see what is but when
you stretch your hands to reach for the creativity that wants to swallow you, The world that you once knew changes.
All of your thoughts become poetic, and there becomes a consistent need to tell people what's going on and it feels so amazing.
Spoken word is an expression
abling people that would have never thought they would have the power to say things about their lives unleashes a magnificent world that we would have never been able to see.
Spoken word is an art the doesn't just open eyes but shocks all of our senses. The ability to take someone on a journey without even having to leave the room, Making them experience your story in a way that you never thought you could.
Spoken word is not just poetry,
Spoken word describes all that I am,
All that I can, and will be,
All that I was,
All that is me.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
She got much gifts from open hands
Those golden hearts from foreign land
But though they came from farther place
Their hearts are closer, oh such a grace
~
Somehow it's good to take and keep
Yet there are hands that do not sleep
They are not tired of sharing gifts
Helping others with no buts and ifs
~
She loves to see herself like them
Sharing her gifts, her precious gems
Even the gifts she has today
Her skills and talents, that's her bouquet
~
And now she finds another dream
Like mending rips from hem to hem
She wants to share her open hands, too
With songs of hope for me and you
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
Myself loved to play hide-and-seek.
That game went on for six years
I almost started to believe
that I lived in it.
My happiness used to hide in any place –
behind my smile most of all,
so that nobody could find my sadness
underneath it.
I’ve always had this weird cough
since I was fourteen.
I sometimes thought that
maybe,
somehow,
it was my own sadness trying
to find its way out of my mouth,
just to suicide itself on the pavement.
Tired of being in the dark
but too scared of the light.
The first time I said out loud
I was gay,
I cried so hard.
I used to think I was
ill,
dysfunctional,
twisted.
But once my father asked me:
«Who can tell what normality is?».
Today I am twenty years old and
I’m who I have always supposed to be.
Myself has grown up
it doesn’t play hide-and-seek anymore.
I am finally able to say
that the true meaning of “Pride”
is to not be ashamed
of who you are.
It’s to be thankful
for you you are
with no ifs or buts or if onlys.
It’s to look in the mirror
and see not a burden,
neither a failure.
Instead a heart and a soul
from which you find strength and love.
I have spent so many years
committing hate crimes against myself.
Now I’m working so hard
on loving me and
it’s not ******* easy.
But here I am
out of the closet
enjoying the light
I’ve been missing.
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
I love you.
Theres nothing more to say
To add anything
would be like
cutting an arm away.
I love you
No buts
Thats all i can say.
Life works in mysterious ways
One moment it gives you everything you want
and just as quickly takes it away.
Life choices
mistakes are made
we all have to own up to it at the end of the day
I love you
I love you
Day after Day
I trust in my path
and pray
that one day
may our lifes smile upon us
and bring us back together
one day
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC
welcome to houston texas
we roll swangas n swishers
we might hit cha
with the torch
if ya dont know where ya stand
in the ghetto we never let go
of painful memories
we got brothers get shot by cops
to brothers getting got
by they own i try not to led a path of sin on my own
phone home
soon to be at the crossroads
knockin at thugs mansion door
got **** how did i get smoked
i thought i was backed by my locs
now im sittin with malcolm
and martin n garvey
enjoying a smoke
wish i could reach deep into the pains
of black folks brain
and let em know
we used to be kings n queens
but **** dont flipped
once they change the color of the script
but ***** i peep game since i was embryo
last of a dying breed corrupt seed
we can changr indeed
we just gotta change waht our minds feed
but we too intrigue
from the worlds scent
a ghetto ih
now that've got your intention
lets form a syndication
reform strategize black nation
we all brothers from haitan to jamacian makin
nothing but flawless beats
smokin swisher sweets at the swap meet
or better yet the bayou classic
listenin to magic
1 0 2 point one everybody having fun
without the use of a gun
buts ther3s always one
that wanna start ****
got his wig split
now take a picture for yo casket
wish times wasnt so hard
but im always on the guard
sneaky *** white supremacy
pushin gay antics
miss with that semantic
yall aint slick
so let me hit ya with some of the realist
rhymes that make up for the crimes cuz im
tired of this ****** poor livin
everyday sinning
no winning stuck at a permenant loss
but somehow my soul still grows
even though the world be a ghetto the ghetto
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
I got this job because I was seventeen
Available everyday at three
In debt with a man after I went clean
My boss at the time was thirty six with a goatee
Five dollars an hour plus tip, you see
It was fine for me.
I met the others standing by the kitchen line
All of them with the same look in their eye
Lying to family and friends saying, financially, their fine
Getting nothing on a tip and never knowing why
Yet they return the next day to serve white wine
Looking around I see all of us wanted more
But I’m in debt and you have to pay the rent
Do it all in one day and go home to a son that’s four
Under the thumb of an old vice president
The roof over the kitchen is about to cave in
And we watch with silent eyes
Because our uniforms are being held with safety pins
Promised new ones but Corporate lies
And when the bubble in the ceiling pops
We’ll be by the dumpsters flicking cigarettes on the road
While the greedy pigs come in drawing lots
Waiting for the gas stove to explode
Paid vacation sounds lovely
Been here every week for the past year
Sometimes I’m called to come in early
Pick up the broken glass from lunch rush beer
The people come in
Angry as they usually are
Now the glares don’t even touch my skin
It makes me laugh how many nasty people sit at the bar
The high-class families who come in for din
It’s been eight hours and six years
Since we started our shift
Staying here for three more is the biggest fear
But we’re already ******
We’ve been here for long we know this career
What else am I supposed to know
Other than how to make dough
It’s been a long night
You can see it in the height
Of cigarette buts by the dumpster
Where we can freely talk about the customer
It’s a busy life
Feels like we’re running out of time
To get out and ignore the strife
But there are times when the tips make us feel sublime
And we can buy a warm meal
Cause maybe it will heal
These aching muscles
That come from a constant hustle
Don’t you see why they say
At the end of the day
We need an ashtray.
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 12:14 PM UTC
Lumbago ought be a flower,
but it ain't.
Goldfish could have shoulders,
but they don't.
Death should have meaning
and my windows need cleaning
by the missus - but I know-
she just -- won't.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
Golden halo, crown of gold- rings as you call,
Golden halo, heart so bold- yes and yes to all-
yet all the time that falls off the leaves after rain,
dry up too soon in the mid-morning sun’s heat
Golden halo, not of gold- just as ever blinding,
Golden halo, made of light- slowly ever fading-
the sky is clear, buts its clouds uncertain to cry,
Sit and wait, sit and wait and talk- golden halo
I hear your whispers, golden halo- loud and soft
echoing from the fleets of galleon clouds
and crashing nimbus waves
blaring through soft torrents of gale and gusts,
dodging the lighthouse of heavenly fire
I hear your secrets, golden halo- safe and sound
safe in me, golden halo, deep in locked chains
safe in me, high above the clouds,
the key, broken- its pieces, heavens apart
the lock molten shut
golden halo, golden light
golden secret, lips sealed tight
Mar 8, 2021
Mar 8, 2021 at 6:49 AM UTC