"cavemen" poems
What is the versatile autobiography
of this bountiful of rice
boiling in my American kitchen?
This crop of microscopic slabs of grain
that was the one edible source
of preventing my ancestors' emaciation
One of such few things
connecting me
to my roots,
those things I can't help but bleach
in whitewashed and rebellious peroxide.
I will valiantly hang my head down low in shame
at the examples of my flesh and earth,
"those National Geographic cavemen,"
all the time being the zoo animal,
being blindfolded and caged by
these "secular, American liberals."
I love this food
that I consume like a vacuum,
this merengue and bachata
that I so happily shake my *** to;
but nowhere did I sign up
for these commandments
that I was appointed
based on the location
that I popped out onto.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:51 AM UTC
Sometimes I sit and wonder
About stuff I do not know
Like, what the earth was like a hundred years ago
Did cavemen ride on dinosaurs?
Did flowers even grow?
Did spiders rule the earth?
Were deserts filled with snow?
There were no books or humans
So how are we to know,
What the earth was like a hundred years ago.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
Caves of Altamira
on the northern coast of Spain
paleolithic drawings can be found
the old stone age of cavemen
in a cave high above the ground
in Mount Vispieres high above the plain
the name Altamira given for high views
that prehistoric man could paint
was such confusing news
it was assumed they were not bright
they had no artistic skills
then came that discovery
high up in those hills
bison horse deer and boar
painted plainly on the wall
18 thousand years ago
painted oils copied in the museum hall
even the Dan wrote a tune
to praise these artists skills
they were stars before Hollywood
high on those Spanish hills
Gomer Lepoet...
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
All weapons of
the fates you've sealed
Are no match for
this pen I wield
The power to
articulate
Ticking rhyme bombs
to detonate
The conflicts waged
gambling mankind
My perfect hand
is treaties signed
Hellbent hounds pray
like dogs, I hunt
Frontline this notebook
battlefront
With metaphors
of mindless drones
Like similes
to brainwashed clones
Whose C4 booms
and IED's
Can't build bridges
like ABC's
Or tear them down
with death regimes
By rusting through
the war machines
Flamethrowin’ my
verbal grenade
With ****** noun
scorched-earth tirade
On militant
cold-blood elite
King cobras know
I'm packing heat
Seeking missile
resolution
Winged raptor
devolution
Prehistoric
barbarism
Literacy
cataclysm
Stockpiling
extinction bones
We're cavemen carving
fallout stones
My Hiroshima
prose explodes
With nuclear
bushido codes
Released from my
katana's ward
To free my press
from shogun lord
Oppressing haiku
imagery
And samurai
epigraphy
Expressions of
my ronin soul
Omitted by
the daimyo
Satsuma is my
poetry
My final draft's
Nagasaki
Ink cartridges
strapped 'round my neck
I print no charge
or background check
And ****** every
live round free
Of innocent
blood elegy
And killing sprees
of gunned-down news
Domestic violence
black and blues
A Number 2
pencil dependent
Obsolete
lead-head amendment
Open carry
shoots a blank
Empty shell case
at my think tank
So grip this peace
then **** and pull it
**** my diction
write the bullet
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
Beware Hooray
the Cavemen are comin
jumpin up and don knock-kneed
sweepin the hill with their new harvested beard
Howdy chicky chicken leg
What’s goozin under your sweaty shirt
lookin like ma granpa
with ur baby cream breath
or is it maybe somethin else luscious
spring of intermittent discharge
making rainbows duplicate
yep gimme two too
when u come to me
oh when u come to me
cause I am a matured
lovin n **** is my blanched bird nest
neatly crowned above my head
I shall unbind it for
adorable is your lady color short pants
I bet holographic daisies growin
along the tri-d charm
of your ******
if any yeah if any
Beware Oh the cavemen
Run flat out nou
cause I shall feed you
to my auntie’s aging dreams
with the buncha hair on ur face
u look lika somethin
resembling
a man before her famine
Beware Oh the cavemen
Auntie is comin
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
i think cavemen were beautiful
with their primitive actions to
sculpt bare rocks and minerals
into tools to reach out to hearts.
they had their own language,
like countries i've never been to
or tribes i wish to witness
because even the minimum
was pure and enough
to keep their thoughts racing,
to push them to feel life
through fingertips and dancing.
i think this earth used to be
beautiful, with gallons of
salt water surrounding
one entity, we were once
all connected before
we were able to take our
first gasp of oxygen,
before we could communicate
how the earth was not flat
and circulated to
let the light take over the
heavy and forget what
heat is during the
ice coverings for 90
shaded days.
i think we forgot how to
really let our blood
strengthen our bodies,
using complex chemicals
to ease reality because
we know we are wrong at times
and right when we can't turn
back centuries.
we breathe to taste our
own ignorance,
when really we should be
breathing to feel alive,
but the numbers don't
change and we tend to
only care for ourselves.
cavemen gave and gave and gave
until they couldn't breathe in the
light anymore and the energy
moved on to the next,
like how ionic bonds
result in a positive
or negative charge.
sometimes our structures
aren't so step by step,
but our feet can take over
for that.
it is our time to take over and
****** our ideas out for the taking,
but i'm nervous we won't make it.
i'm scared that everything we've known
will fall down to the mantle of our
beautiful planet because
my generation
was too worried
about the little
things.
Apr 5, 2011
Apr 5, 2011 at 6:30 PM UTC
As cavemen with half-yard sticks
smudging soot on open rock
they hunch
over carcasses of donut boxes
(the wax paper skin folded,
use all parts of the animal)
and grunt in chorus.
stocks are down this quarter,
(anger of the Gods)
sacrifice to the sun,
perform the ancient gymnastic of
rain dancing while kissing up
let the blood ink river run
smooth and whole
pray our intake outgrows
our categorized expenses
let there be profit
(the vesper smoke stings
with the haunting of paygrades
and budget cuts)
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
Why are people born, brought to bear pain,
or pain built and barred "burying" we barbarians?
You would think cavemen could sing more than
Grunts--open your mouths and voice the ears!
The frags hum louder than your joyous day,
a time you sprint from gas and gears.
I'd like to see that, please my men,
so I often--always--ask us, "When?"
Oct 26, 2010
Oct 26, 2010 at 12:22 PM UTC
i wonder if the cavemen had a christmas day
all those years ago in a land so far away
did they have a santa on christmas day
were there little dinosaurs to pull along his sleigh
did they put there presents underneath the tree
all those years ago could this really be
did they kiss each other beneath the mistletoe
did this really happen we will never know.
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
it’s a god-awful small affair
to the girl with the mousy hair
10,000 hipsters stand in the square
with ***** makeup and ****** flare
prayers fly into the dim lit sky
as a generation asks god ‘why’
it’s a god-awful small affair
to the girl with the mousy hair
I sit here in despair
for a god of whom I did care
well, just a man with a master’s eye
for making all of the people sigh…
and now I sit here with my head in my hand
just trying to understand
what this world has come unto
can there ever again be skies of blue
and while swishy in her satin and tat
frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat
there can never be another like that –
the morning news brought a cold chill
as the icon of us undesirables
came to be laid at rest
it’s on America’s tortured brow
leaving us to sit solemn
as old records spin
telling tales of space men
and life on mars
a little china girl
and one man who feel to earth
it’s on America’s tortured brow
the fashionista of glam rock
the birther of Ziggy
the man who sold the world
forever changing
chameleon
in smart shoes –
spinning grooves
and scattered cd’s
tears slipping away
as memories already start to fade
it’s the freakiest show
look at those cavemen go
will they ever know
just who left us
take a look at the lawman
beating up the wrong guy
it’s a god-awful small affair
to the girls with the mousy hair
now she walks with a sunken dream
and the cream that once rose so high
so too will come the time to die
and as all of us let him go
there can be a bit of hope for those
who carry a torchy flare
to the girl with the mousy hair
and will sing in the dead of night
with face paint and a big spot light
******* and the party boys
come out with their fancy toys
but it’s a god-awful small affair
if you find you’re too square to care
‘bout the goblin kings sad depart
from this earth and from hipster hearts
see these kids have no loyalty
to a man who helped define me
when the world gave me a frown
for kissing boys in a dainty gown
ole Davy gave me peace
with a confidence that never ceased
oh Mr. Jones I’m in debt to you
for turning my grey skies to blue
now I’ll forever carry this torch
from green valleys to my own front porch
but it’s a god-awful small affair
it’s nice to know some of us care…
about the earth and sun and stars
and yes
there is life
on
Mars –
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 4:39 PM UTC
We all know music started..
Well,
Since the cavemen were banging on raw meat and rocks
dancing to the tune they made,
And must I say,
It was a classic tune.
And classic tunes happen all the time,
Classical music,
Is by far my favorite kind.
Mozart, Chopin, Bach, Beethoven....
I could name more.
Rock and Roll,
Elvis Presley, Jack Brenston and The Delta Cat, Bill Haley, Chuck Berry..
"You ain't nothing but hound dog, cryin' all the time.."
There are different kinds of classical music
Just like Beethoven was deaf,
Elvis, the KING of rock and roll, not creator.
Even cavemen can bang on a drum and make a sound.
Music is made from sounds,
But to deliver it,
That's another piece of sheet music..
Mar 26, 2011
Mar 26, 2011 at 7:24 PM UTC
Humans -- what a pitiful, parasitic species
That has infected this planet like a
Greedy, virulent virus consuming everything
In its path with no remorse, no reservations.
All humans have a rotten core oozing toxic
Sentiments that engender chaos and destruction.
I’m surrounded by hypocrites with no
Knowledge of the word altruism, blinded by
Their oversized egos and insatiable appetites
For superficial and fleeting pleasures.
There is no hope for remedy; progress is an illusion,
Where the only certainty is our imminent extinction.
Civilization was a mistake. We were better off as cavemen.
Humans ask me if I hate humanity so much,
Why haven’t I killed myself already?
Stupid humans.
Humans suggest that rather than lament,
I should be the light amid the gloom.
Stupid humans.
I'm allergic to futility.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
Men have died
And angels cried,
All for love.
I have wept,
And secrets kept,
All for love.
Kings on thrones
And men of bones
Have shuddered,
All for love.
Nations have clashed
And creatures thrashed,
All for love.
Will you ever cry,
And inside die,
All for love?
Poets and troubadours
Have sung its praises.
Playwrights and authors
Have written its woes.
But who in the time
Of the cavemen would have
Thought love could ever
Be shown by a rose?
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 9:32 PM UTC
When I think too much I become a poet.
I imagine
I am an abstract art of my inner thoughts for display on the web with open interpretations to judge.
When I was growing up
Teachers would tell me how I had bad grammar.
I imagine
They were stubborn artists that was too obsessed with traditional art.
But I was too abstract for them to understand with my cavemen writing .
But in poetry.
I imagine
I can be anything.
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 6:00 AM UTC
Cavemen didn’t want girls who weren’t capable of survival. They wanted girls who were strong enough to fight off their own battles. Then together, at the end of the night, knowing they fought long and hard for their survival and life today, have now each other to comfort them during the night. with only love left to give.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
The ethereal plane goes silent.
Pilot decides they are too tired to fly.
Decrease cabin pressure to decrease cabin fever.
The cousin of my cousin who is not my cousin cannot engineer a solution if not given proper tools.
Cavemen can use simple tools but are adept at clubs if you injure their hearts so let’s call a ***** a ***** we know diamonds are only rocks but forever is simply tomorrow repeating.
I can’t see what’s in the cards beyond that.
Even worse is to look at the present you gave worn each day.
Standing still a painful reminder.
Best to keep moving.
I'm in a precarious juxtaposition.
One move and the King is toppled but the Queen reigns in this game.
I shall grant our enemies no quarter, this game is free of charge.
The truth is the true blue you doesn't know what to do but the blue blood in you
requires more upkeep than that and you'll deny it until you're blue in the face.
That's enough blue clichés, especially when I'm seeing red.
Fell trees for the fires or gather the ones already fallen.
It doesn't matter, you'll still
wear multiple layers to get through the knight in shining arm morbidity.
I keep all your sugar coated spiders sealed in jars.
I'd rather they not bite me anymore either.
Outside appearances mean little when one wears so many faces.
See you on the flip side but remember on the inside I'm dying to meet you again.
I am jumbled.
I'm mixing my metaphors and metaphysics.
They promised adult supervision but I can't see clearly without glasses.
I'm like a deer caught in the dread lights.
I'm under cardiac arrest and I've been coaxed into signing a police state meant just for you.
How can I be held responsible for the consequences when everything is out of sequence, doesn't that leave me only a con?
Paradigm shift has occurred.
The door to my heart is closed.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
Win some,lose some
read the news some and then read more
what is it that we choose win or lose it's what we get
and I bet
that charity, though is about what is received don't be deceived
by gifts galore
the people giving want even more than an equal share
but that's not fair of me
I can see and but for lack of clarity I'd see it all
if I could only stand a little taller to look at details even smaller I'd be sure of what it is I'm trying to say
but that's not going to happen any time today or tomorrow
maybe I could borrow steps and step up a notch or two
see just who and what and where you are and the reasons why you're giving for.
I can't accept if I do not know
just where the giving's come from and where it is you think it's going to go.
You'll have to tell me and really slow I'm not as young as
not so much fun as
can't run as fast as years ago
so be slow and take your time for that is all I've got
and I won't be putting back the clock to please you
do what you do
what you've always done
you've got to have some fun
and win or lose
the news is just the same
just a pain
no win or gain it's
a prying,trying,lying game.
The headlines deadleg me
peg me out
and all my doubts are reinforced by forcible editorials and pictures which from a time what seems immemorial leer at me
from page three
I can see me going round the twist at everything they tell me that I've missed
I'm p*ssed off now
and p*ssing off to 'the brown cow'
to get p*ssed.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 7:57 AM UTC
I, a willing ******
sacrifice to this
deity dreamt up by cavemen
trading shells
for gobs of ******
meat.
In my pocket
I hold paper bearing
sacred holy writ,
and on the internet
somewhere
are hours of my existence
documented in binary
like good deeds
in a seraphic tome
ensuring my someday mansion
in the sky.
Rappers wear the dollar sign
like a gilded golden crucifix
because the wealthy are
the holy men when
Jehovah is money.
If I were to preach
against this theology, become
the antichrist, the anarchist,
throw my cash into a stack
and light that ***** up
I’d be burning myself
at the stake.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 6:28 PM UTC
There are so many
Ways to live by
Numerous routes
One could
Take in their
Lifetime
It exhausts me
Just to
Think about it
There are so many
Quotations to
Memorize and
Organize and
Believe in
People forget those
One's
Never followed
Anyone
Their vice of
Self - fulfillment or
Self - worth or
Self - righteousness or
Self - obsession
Left them alone and
Mad
Most of the time
But that's
The way
It goes...
There are so many
Lifestyles around me
They dilute people
That live it
To have a strange
Horrifying
Glaze across their eyes
As if they were
Robots or
The Undead or
-even worse-
Brimming with illusory
Finiteness or
Settling with the
Result
As if
This were
It
All this
Has been happening
Since the dawn
Of
Time
Cavemen opted for
Deer fur
Rather then
Bear fur
Harder to **** a bear
It is those
Tiny things that
Mother Nature
-The *****
Leads us to
As if we were
Blind right
From the
Start
Powerless against
Her
Shackled at the
Beginning
Make do
With what you've got
Sit back and
Let life
Reveal itself
Day in
And
Day out
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 4:14 AM UTC
~
*Romantics find her flawless
and the mystics find her wise.
The ancients found "The Huntress"
in her sharp and searching eyes.
Italians say "bela luna"
when they look at her and sigh.
The cavemen painted pictures
as they wondered at the sky.
The moon has many faces
and her light's a work of art...
And to the simple poet...
she is tonic for the heart.*
~
Sep 15, 2020
Sep 15, 2020 at 8:13 AM UTC
This is the tale, too often told
Of the idiots and the bums
And why those silly fools applaud
Whenever the apocalypse comes.
When things get good for common folk
Those in power get extremely worried.
They fear people will discover where lies
All the freedoms the rich people buried.
They were aware, while the populace isn’t
Of the changes they made in the laws;
That the elite put in place corruption
Where opportunity so recently was.
The poorly-named Conservatives
Quietly un-conserved the truth
In order to tie the hands of men
And proselytize our gullible youth.
They vilified and imprisoned those
Among the un-bribed journalists
And went right on stealing from us
And having their illicit trysts.
Those who knew they could not rule
Unless they made villains of heroes
Bought their way to power with
Wiith numbers and many zeroes.
The populace was fed huge lies
About how horribly poor we all were,
Implying we were no better off
Than cavemen wearing only fur.
They taught the stupid among us
All of the idiots and the bums,
That they had the only answers,
That they could reverse the sums.
The idiots are easy to understand
They are looking for some answers.
The bums sit back and let it happen
And never get their stuff together.
The bums decide everything is fine
Until they lose their jobs and houses
And then the *** and idiot both;
What to do? He whines and grouses.
Meanwhile even more of the wealth
That it would take to fix our land
Rotated even more back and forth
Between the same few hands.
This is what happens every time,
This is the cycle that repeats here
Defeating progress and smashing hope
Year after Conservative year.
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 3:47 PM UTC
When something terrible faces
me, I choose option
three
(the one cavemen never
thought existed):
freeze
yep, I am an inventor of the invisible
indecisive
slow-thinking
coward
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 1:24 AM UTC
"I'm not angry," barks
the man-child with fingers
clenched into mittens
made of tendons
and brow line hunched
like the backs of cavemen.
The veins
that line his neck
form boiling canals
when he's quicker
to set ablaze
than a paper doll
in a brush fire.
The annals of his ancestry
could fit into a matchbook--
a pocket-size anthology
of swinging *****
and temper tantrums.
The sweat his pores harvest
both quench
and drown him.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC