"buzzzzzzzz" poems
Sssttttuhhp....clunk.
Plink..plinkplink...flip, ***** **** plink.
Donk, donkdonk, plink, doink, ****
Flipflap..dink, plinkplink, doink.
Doink, doinkdoink, whirrrrrr, buzzzzzzzz ****
"Oh ****
Sssttttuhhp....clunk.
Plink, doinkbink, flipflap, bink.
Twirrrrrrrrtwirrrrrrrr, twirrrrrrr *****
flipflap.....clunk
"Oh....Man"!
Sssttttuhhp....clunk.
Plinkplinkboinkdoink...flip...bonk shhhupduuuup.
**** doink, ***** shuuuup.
plink, ploinkploink, **** doink.
booooouuuuupboooooouuuup...boink
flipflap...clunk
"Shoot"!
Sssttttuhhp....clunk.
plinkplinkplinkplink, doink flipflap, bonk, ***** twirrrrrr.
doink, ***** bonk, wuuuuuup, twirrrrrr, puurrrrrrrr.
plink, ploink, doinkdoink, purrrrrrrr, shuuuuupshuuuup
plinkplinkplink, doink, flip, doink, flip, trrrruuuuurrrrp.
"YES"! (shakes machine)
TILT! TILT! TILT!
"NOooooooooo"!
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 8:02 PM UTC
(+) vibrations buzzzzzzzz
lifting
mouths & spirits
r ning
d ow
out the (-)
i n g
matriculating curves t w i s t
quickly churning
bending like w
a
t
e
r
in a whirlpool
with/ou t grrrravity
as we sail on the stream of consciousness
to another realm
inside ourselves
on our rainbow brain boat visiting
tye-dye twilight night skies
giggling wind PLAYING with
our hair beginning to laugh
like cats after discovering chicken it the fridge.
We sing Hendrix
Joplin
Morrison
Floyd
Lennon
and Shankar
all the way to the shore
of the island.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC
There's a quiet tick tick
Tick tock
There's a quiet sound of cars in the distance
The air is warm but there's a slight breeze through the window that is refreshingly cooling
I can feel it on my thigh
I've got one eye closed as I squint at my phone and write this poem
Is it a poem? What is a poem?
I feel like a fake
A plastic poet
Making it up as he goes along
Wanting to write a good poem instead of just writing ...
Anything
What's happening now?
I tried to write a poem about my Dad being a conservative, about coming from a farming family, and about doing things rather than talking about them.
I just rolled over on my couch
I don't always think about what I'm doing
I like to think I'm doing something
Sometimes I'm just trying to do the right thing
Sometimes I'm just trying to be seen to do the right thing
Sometimes I just want to indulge myself in the profits of my labour
Money
I'm skint
I'm not skint
I could be skint if things go a certain way in the near future
I'm scared of being skint
But I don't want to go back to doing the things that I was doing
I don't want to be dragged down again
****** in again
Institutionalised
I don't want to trust people and then get ******* over
I want to be free
To make my own decisions
And walk away if I don't like it
I wonder if Adele will call
I like Adele
She reminded me of my good points again
After Paula
Letting go
It scares me a bit to think whether I actually would have killed myself back then
No matter now - it seems so long ago
When I needed someone to make me feel good
It's inly been about six months
It's not long
I've changed a lot
I hope that it's for the best
At least I don't cry every day I'm without my kids now
At least Adele is my friend
Do I wish she was my girlfriend?
Or do I just like being respected and liked?
I like being liked
I think that's why I write
It's probably why I'm setting up my charity
It's definitely why I post what I'm doing on Facebook
I'm tired now
This poem is getting too long for the 3 mins
Is it a poem?
God knows
I need to sleep ***
Tick
Tock
Buzzzzzzzz...zzz..
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
There she sits in
a cement structure
that is
scarred by the torture
of poverty
and mother nature.
Her deep brown eyes
stare from a
broken glass window,
pondering
the growling
disposition
of her stomach.
Till, it becomes
just some noise
she forgets to hear,
and the feeling
becomes
some numb
buzzzzzzzz
in the back ground
of her exhausting
existence.
She is a still specter,
a powerful presence
in a place I have never seen,
memorialized for my
consumer eyes
by a photographer.
Hopeful humanist,
Howard G. Buffet
presents this
stark truth to me
in a photo reality.
So, all this fluff poetry
is an artistic assumption.
What gumption
I have to put words
to a world that
I have never been to,
seeing the starving children
while I am stuffing
my comfortable face.
She is symbolic of
human beauty and grace
in times of struggle
while I am a product
of comfort, excess, and human waste.
How do these
two extremes
exist
in the same
time?
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 8:25 AM UTC
Oh what I would give to throw the alarm clock away
Just you and me, sleep, for an entire day
Because you're my best friend
You know it's true
When I'm in your presence, I never feel blue
Oh, sleep, I share all my dreams with you
A new sight we could see
If only for a minute
But the clock keeps ticking
And soon this slumber will have to finish
Another minute today?
No, maybe an hour, let me hit the snooze, please!
Just a little more slumber to put my mind at ease!
Buzz. Buzz.
Oh life comes calling,
This time I won't pick up the phone
Just you and me, sleep
We'd never be alone
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Please not again!
Oh, sleep, why can't you just stay?
I'll ignore my responsibilities,
if only for a day!
Buzzzzzzzz. Buzzzzzzzz.
Our relationship, this alarm always seems to complicate
It's just that, when I'm with you, you always make me late!
Buzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Okay, fine, this time I'll get up
But only because my snooze button,
Has finally had enough
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC