"changer" poems
I'm a work of art, your protege.
You're my sculpture, my teacher.
I'm your troublemaker, your rebel.
You're my lover, my peacemaker.
I'm a poet, your songwriter.
You're my inspiration, my muse.
I'm a changer, a modifier of life.
You're my guide, my leader.
I was a hater, a freak.
You made me better,
An individual with a love for life and
A man of creativity.
You're the remover of hate,
And the replacer of love.
You saw me as I am,
As the person I was meant to be.
Piece by piece and step by step
You put back the parts of my broken self.
You didn't abandon me in need,
You didn't leave me when you saw the red flags,
You stayed,
You made me drop the anger and put up the surrender.
You took me in,
You loved me.
You made me see life in a way I never knew existed.
You love me now,
You'll love me always.
Forever till forever meets no end,
You're love knows no limits
And is meant to be eternal.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 3:22 PM UTC
Stop waiting for the world to change.
Go out and change the world.
Be a world changer.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 3:15 PM UTC
Anybody else got that one person or song
You could go without it all day long
You could be angrier than a dog with rabies
Or someone who got robbed daily
Why is it that when that person or song Hppens to be around or on that all of a days Aonizing moments seem to just slip on by
To another place or another time in rhyme
It's like all those bad vibes fall apart when Something like that touches the heart
This is an odd little occurrence but im sure it's a normal occurrence Helping me decompress and acquiesce too I guess that mood changer is all we need Sometimes
(hint, pay attention to the capital letters)
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 8:26 AM UTC
t/w: violence, death
-
dear little miss dreamer
i'm sorry i couldn't write to you sooner
but yesterday night, i've read all three
each and every one of your letters
your mother sounds lovely
a brave woman, from what you've told me
if your brother comes by downtown
tell him, he's welcome to visit me
you have some big dreams
and i hope i can help them come true
i'm sorry i've been so busy
but i would truly love to meet you
you remind me of my wife
of her dreams when she was your age
we grew up together in center city
like you, she was wise beyond her days
i agree, we need to help kensington
and we've begun taking some small steps
i'm pushing for a new bill to pass
but it'll still take some time to prep
i know you mentioned drugs and violence
and yes, i agree, it's completely true
please stay safe and stay inside
it could help protect you
actually, that just reminded me about kensington
my wife had told me some shocking news
a mother chased to her kitchen counter
a little girl, shot, in the same view
i think she was writing a letter, too
but i don't quite remember who exactly to
it was titled, i think, "dear mister life-changer"
wait, it couldn't be— no, God, please, not you—
May 12, 2021
May 12, 2021 at 9:52 PM UTC
I'm not black, but I see you
I'm not black, but I hear you
I'm not black, but I’m near you
I'm not black, but I stand with you
you are all a blessing
so let’s stop messing
let’s cut the silence
and cut the violence
our organs are the same
the blood types won’t change
but still, this is no fair game
I see too many privilege
depending on your village
we make huge difference
let’s prove your innocence,
cut the ignorance
we are all the same,
only different names
guided by authorities,
but let’s set priorities
of humanity?
I see 0 percent
we need to stand up,
be a movement
we are hating and killing
this is not okay,
this is not fulfilling
your worth is defined by a colour,
it’s worth only some dollars?
what the **** are they thinking?
these racists are winning
where are human rights?
they only count, if you’re white?
this only causes damage
in different ages,
on different pages
people get hurt
we should be concerned
the future is equal? ha! ********
how should today’s children,
be tomorrow’s change,
if we teach them rage
how to hate one another,
not to value your brother,
how to be violent,
how to be silent,
how to watch,
follow the system,
how to be a victim
but now for real,
listen
it affects anybody
in America,
the cops have their hands ******
A.C.A.B. but not all are ********
there are some,
with really good standards
we should all be
on the same team,
make love our religion
that would be supreme
why fight each other
when we share a mother?
mother earth wouldn’t like all this hatred,
that we created
I don’t understand,
how can you be so mean?
how can we heal?
is there a vaccine?
I know life can be joyless,
so let’s raise our voices
let’s stay strong,
together,
and be clever
let’s learn how to care,
how to love,
how to share
let’s be a game changer,
cut out the danger
make it safe for everyone
no need to use a gun
less violence, decrease
let’s be good, find peace
we come in different shapes, colours, sizes
now this problem finally arises
we need to find a cure
it’s urgent, I’m sure
bring some clarity,
embrace the difference,
cherish similarity
we are all human
let’s find a solution
create a revolution
more or less melanin?
doesn’t matter,
'cause we all need
the same medicine.
- gio 31.05.2020
Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 2:14 PM UTC
Humility is a thorned crown.
If you allow it to it'll break you down.
Confound your ego
And spur it into the ground.
Its a mindset shift through and through.
When it hits you genuinely humility will help bring about a new you.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
i given nothing
i abandoned
i adopted
i dropout
i garage
i Apple
i NeXT
i Pixar
i Apple
i pilfered i
i invented i
i produced i
i market i
i retail i
i am i
i am
i
i tech beauty
i consumer fetish
i whom you love
i sleekest widgets
i Toy Story
i Macintosh
i macbook
i Lisa
iTunes
iPod
iPhone
iPad
i more
i rebel
i genius
i visionary
i entrepreneur
i world changer
i exceptionalism
i capital market hero
i bigger then business
i cool capitalism
i myth
i "the man"
i worker
i employer
i boss
i thief
i savior
i billionaire
i venerated
i vanity
i Buddhist
i prophet
i redeemed
i 1 in 300 million
i America
i sing the pathos
i am the creed
i define the ethos
i Steve Jobs
i amassed riches
i accolade crowned
i ingratiate world
i virtue
i success
i creativity
i favored
i Midas
i bedeviled
i tested
i afflicted
i retire
i human
i mortal
i succumb
i eulogized
i leave legacy of i
i am an MBA case study
i employed workers
i peddled intrepid product cycles
i subject of amusing anecdotes
i am heroic corporate folklore
i grew pods full of music
i incite kids to thumb phones
i captivate consumer imagination
i built rock solid balance sheet
i erected toxic Chinese factories
i enriched investors
i am the cool corporate brand
i inspired a million unused i apps
i hipster capitalism
i imposed my will
i insisted
i am that i am
i cannot take it with me
i leave blue jeans
i leave NB sneakers
i leave black collarless shirt
i will be asked what
i did with the time
i was given?
i did the best i could
i played the hand dealt
i parlayed it into a royal flush
i filled it up with i
i ask why
i am no more?
i leave the world
i am no more
Godspeed Beloved
Steven Paul "Steve" Jobs
(February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011)
jbm
Oakland
10/6/11
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 10:40 PM UTC
There comes a day when you realize who you really are..
A Hero....
A believer..
A life changer....
I know who I was meant to be...
With the powers to woo...
I slang the super ****
I do the super thang...
Save A woman...
repeatedly...
Not many
Just one...
I mean others might catch the side effects
but I read the comics...
and every maniac...
thats like me...
only has but one queen....
with the occasional relapse..
because in most of their titles...
lies a flawed Man...
Super....
Bat....
Spider....
But I admire the Hulk....
Cuz I'm just
******
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
Chop down the city lights of Paranoia.
Cathartic beads of sweat roll
off the horrors of your back
under the saggy breast lamps
in the pitched dreams where the nightmare kids
come to watch you sleep.
Somersaulting walls made of human tissue,
the love of your life overseas, and everything you say
comes out as water torture on hollow centers of hope.
poetry is dead.
Liars smoke ten packs a day,
social criminals stroll in marathons of perdition
across the rot of post-modern vices,
their feet stomp closer to watching faces under the bed.
'This is a story. A dream!'
Everyone sees the fire under the bed.
Watch-fires earthbound by every word
before it is said,
gagged in envy--brought to glow by spineless atoms.
Every sexless sun has a beard, a saved flirtation that singes
the vacuum of today's soul,
a dead dream because you didn't pull it from the brink.
No one has a name in poetry. A task. A point. An exit.
One bed-room apartments locked with pearls
visible only to soloist dogs.
No sorry for vagueness or shut-mouth or bleeding upwards. The meter is running....
to the pharmacy
because it could be pregnant with all the possibilities.
And the whole amphitheater wants to hear one line, the life changer you brought
--here it is: Forget your name.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 1:47 AM UTC
Un vieux renard cassé, goutteux, apoplectique,
Mais instruit, éloquent, disert,
Et sachant très bien sa logique,
Se mit à prêcher au désert.
Son style était fleuri, sa morale excellente.
Il prouvait en trois points que la simplicité,
Les bonnes moeurs, la probité,
Donnent à peu de frais cette félicité
Qu'un monde imposteur nous présente
Et nous fait payer cher sans la donner jamais.
Notre prédicateur n'avait aucun succès ;
Personne ne venait, hors cinq ou six marmottes,
Ou bien quelques biches dévotes
Qui vivaient **** du bruit, sans entour, sans faveur,
Et ne pouvaient pas mettre en crédit l'orateur.
Il prit le bon parti de changer de matière,
Prêcha contre les ours, les tigres, les lions,
Contre leurs appétits gloutons,
Leur soif, leur rage sanguinaire.
Tout le monde accourut alors à ses sermons :
Cerfs, gazelles, chevreuils, y trouvaient mille charmes ;
L'auditoire sortait toujours baigné de larmes ;
Et le nom du renard devint bientôt fameux.
Un **** roi de la contrée,
Bon homme au demeurant, et vieillard fort pieux,
De l'entendre fut curieux.
Le renard fut charmé de faire son entrée
A la cour : il arrive, il prêche, et, cette fois,
Se surpassant lui-même, il tonne, il épouvante
Les féroces tyrans des bois,
Peint la faible innocence à leur aspect tremblante,
Implorant chaque jour la justice trop lente
Du maître et du juge des rois.
Les courtisans, surpris de tant de hardiesse,
Se regardaient sans dire rien ;
Car le roi trouvait cela bien.
La nouveauté parfois fait aimer la rudesse.
Au sortir du sermon, le monarque enchanté
Fit venir le renard : vous avez su me plaire,
Lui dit-il, vous m'avez montré la vérité ;
Je vous dois un juste salaire :
Que me demandez-vous pour prix de vos leçons ?
Le renard répondit : sire, quelques dindons.
2.6k
I know a writer
She seems like quite the fighter
her arms and legs are covered in scars
But her eyes are so full of stars
I know a writer
Whose future couldn't be brighter
that always seems so sad
Or maybe just a bit mad
I know a writer
Who couldn’t shoot higher
She always looks up on her strolls
For the sky holds all her goals
I know a writer
Sleepless over her typewriter
She often falls asleep in class
But, she has a smile that could cut glass
I know a writer
Who frequents the overnighter
Sleep to her is a foreign ideal
She knows not how it can heal
I know a writer
Who is quick to tire
An hour or two
It’s ever so true
I know a writer
Who's not an outsider
So full of compassion
She runs with a faction
I know a writer
And she's kinda a whiner
Loud and proud
Much like a storm cloud
I know a writer
She's nothing more than a cipher
With her secret codes
Hidden in all of her odes
I know a writer
Who couldn’t be nicer
Always smiling at strangers
She's a real game changer
I know a writer
Who fights like a tiger
She’s stronger than most
But she isn’t one to boast
I know a writer
Who bites like a viper
She can be malignant
But only if you’re distant
I know a writer
And this may seem minor
But her vivid imagination
leads to the beauty of creation
I know a writer
Who couldn’t be wiser
With a heart for spoken word
Though she’s often left unheard
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 6:11 AM UTC
Ya Know Peoples’ Behaviour’s...
Getting... Stranger And STRANGER... !!!
NO... Away In A Manger... !!!
But PLENTY of DANGER... !!!
In... Peoples Behaviour... !!!
Because Corona’s Brought Flavours...
When It Comes To THAT PAPER... !!!
That Are A... GAME CHANGER... !!!
So Some Peoples Behaviour’s...
Beginning To Tailor...
Itself Towards... Vader’s... !!!
Because of DICTATORS...
Who Have Now Endangered... !!!
MORE THAN... Livelihoods...
Now Lives Have Been Took...
That’s EVEN SHOOK CROOKS... !!!
So Behaviours Now Look...
Like They’re Ready To Cook...
MUCH MORE Than PROTESTS...
When Leaders Send Feds’...
To Now Fire BULLETS... !!!
At WOMEN On Front Lines...
Who Now STAND AGAINST...
Racism And Violence...
That Lead To Black Deaths... !!!
By... Taking of Breaths...
By Some YES Policemen... !!!
They’re Behaviours ATTEST...
To Delivering STRESS...
To Lots of Blacks HEADS... !!!
So OF COURSE Some Are VEX... !!!!!
About Treatment We Get... !!!
But... Protest Behaviour...
Has Got... INSTIGATORS...
Who May Be IMITATORS... ?!?
And... CONTAMINATORS...
Used To Be MUTILATORS... !!!
of Behaviours Now Caused...
By BLATANTLY FLAGRANT...
ABUSE of THEIR Laws... !?!
Hold Up... Let Me PAUSE......................
Did I Just Call Them... " LAWS "... ?
What Do They Stand For... ?!?
Cos They’re CLEARLY NOT Made...
To Now PROTECT The Hoards … ?
I Mean... MASSES of People...
Who Seem READY For WAR... !?!
In... Different Locations...
It Seems That Behaviours...
Are Now Fighting For...
MORE Than Freedom of Thought... !!!
IT’s... FREEDOM To TALK...
That’s Now Being Cut SHORT... !?!
When Clearly Behaviours...
Should OPEN UP MORE Than EVER BEFORE... !!!
But THESE MANIPULATORS...
Have Their Perpetrators...
of Behaviours That Walk...
With Talk That Is FALSE... !!!
From These CORONA Wars...
To These CLOSED Corridors...
Where Decisions Are BOUGHT !
I Dunno Anymore... ?!?
If We’ll Ever ENFORCE...
Behaviours Like Jailers...
For Traitors Who Break Laws... !!!
ESPECIALLY When...
They Are Leaders And Lords !!!
Instead of Behaviours...
That... DESTROY The Poor... !!!
We NEED CASTIGATORS...
And... Coordinators...
Whose Behaviours Are PURE... !!!
Instead of These FAKERS...
And... New Age ENSLAVERS... !!!
Who Drive These Creations...
of Thoughts That I TAILOR...
To Speak On These Subjects...
Like Peoples’...
.... “BEHAVIOUR”....
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 2:18 AM UTC
The game has changed all the bs rules girls make
Its a game but I break the rules
Im simple I know what I want
Girls claim to be over their over the ex
But everything you do reminds of him
Im over healing them till something better comes along
Im over being emotionally invested with a person who thinks about someone else
Im friends with the damaged girls I see their potential but their broken heart side lines them.
Ive been hurt but mostly over being the other guy.
I fall in love she friend zones me or cant be my friend.
She falls in love but always makes me into a project trying to change me.
I didnt hurt you dont treat me bad
She praises the guy who hurt her
She wants him back like hes the one who got away
He chose to leave stop waiting move on
Guys who try get ignored for someone who dont want you
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
Quiet tension
sounds ceased in class
except for the dull hum
of angered electronics
Secret tension
that angry face
glaring at me
inside the mirror
Quiet tension
a silent alarm
the bank robbed
all the loot taken
Secret Tension
a voodoo doll
put to its rest
the face removed
finally inactive
Secrets
all made public
a facebook post
told by alcohol
Secrets turning
to known facts
like the spies
found in their homes
The game changer
the fear inducer
the noise bringer
The tension is gone
leaving pain instead
and it is here to stay
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
What your eyes see are things that your mind cannot comprehend
Beware the blasted wastes beneath the light of the frozen moon
Fields of flame full of pasts and futures of endless unborn dead
You gaze upon an expanse that tears at your soul
This is the place where all things come to their end it seems
Hope not to find shade under The True Liar’s Monolith--ruins will remain of you too
Oh the hubris of man who tries to map the whimsy of the gods
Dancing landmarks
On the page
Never coming
To rest twice in the same place
At the center of the maze sits the changer of ways
created and sustained by desire
The Architect of Fate
“I could let you wander for eternity with your shattered mind, but that’s not my plan for you.”
“You are a drop in a sea of thought, locked in mortality, but as long as humanity has hope I will be here.”
“Go now, and make waves; I will be watching.”
Cast from the hidden library of chattering pages and numberless faces, he leaves the great plotter’s realm of chaos
With a mind still whole--new knowledge and memories buried deep
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
i may be jump starting
into a fast play here
but this ain't no ordinary game
i’m playing,
i ain't got no geechee tricks
up my sleeves
or a curve ball in sight,
with you
it’s just me and my straight pitch
so imma throw it to ya
like this
i’ve been traveling
across the court
waiting for you
to be wide open
for me to free throw
this to you
i love you
man
did you see that pass?
that shot i made
all the way
from half court?
you gonna
catch it &
come over here
slam dunk it
like i want you to
or let these words
rebound off your chest
like a third rate player
with uncoordinated hands?
cause right now
its the third down
in the last quarter
baby
& you still don’t see
how much yardage
you have gained
&
I'm still waiting
for you to
intercept me
dontcha know,
i wanna do
more than
just sack you?
but
don’t get it twisted
this isn’t some obsessed
lovesick fan
aching & destined
to show up
at your door
like a groupie
unannounced
cause
i’m not about to chase you
this ain’t track &
i don’t run after nothing
that can’t catch up to me
first
but **** don’t you know
i’ve got words for you papi
like goaaaalllll
& oyeeee
i might let you play
in my centerfield
but only if you can come
kick it hard enough
i wanna know
how do you
wanna
play this game?
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
WHEN the sea is everywhere
from horizon to horizon ..
when the salt and blue
fill a circle of horizons ..
I swear again how I know
the sea is older than anything else
and the sea younger than anything else.
My first father was a landsman.
My tenth father was a sea-lover,
a gipsy sea-boy, a singer of chanties.
(Oh Blow the Man Down!)
The sea is always the same:
and yet the sea always changes.
The sea gives all,
and yet the sea keeps something back.
The sea takes without asking.
The sea is a worker, a thief and a loafer.
Why does the sea let go so slow?
Or never let go at all?
The sea always the same
day after day,
the sea always the same
night after night,
fog on fog and never a star,
wind on wind and running white sheets,
bird on bird always a sea-bird-
so the days get lost:
it is neither Saturday nor Monday,
it is any day or no day,
it is a year, ten years.
Fog on fog and never a star,
what is a man, a child, a woman,
to the green and grinding sea?
The ropes and boards squeak and groan.
On the land they know a child they have named Today.
On the sea they know three children they have named:
Yesterday, Today, To-morrow.
I made a song to a woman:-it ran:
I have wanted you.
I have called to you
on a day I counted a thousand years.
In the deep of a sea-blue noon
many women run in a man's head,
phantom women leaping from a man's forehead
.. to the railings ... into the sea ... to the
sea rim ...
.. a man's mother ... a man's wife ... other
women ...
I asked a sure-footed sailor how and he said:
I have known many women but there is only one sea.
I saw the North Star once
and our old friend, The Big Dipper,
only the sea between us:
"Take away the sea
and I lift The Dipper,
swing the handle of it,
drink from the brim of it."
I saw the North Star one night
and five new stars for me in the rigging ropes,
and seven old stars in the cross of the wireless
plunging by night,
plowing by night-
Five new cool stars, seven old warm stars.
I have been let down in a thousand graves by my kinfolk.
I have been left alone with the sea and the sea's wife, the wind, for my last friends
And my kinfolk never knew anything about it at all.
Salt from an old work of eating our graveclothes is here.
The sea-kin of my thousand graves,
The sea and the sea's wife, the wind,
They are all here to-night
between the circle of horizons,
between the cross of the wireless
and the seven old warm stars.
Out of a thousand sea-holes I came yesterday.
Out of a thousand sea-holes I come to-morrow.
I am kin of the changer.
I am a son of the sea
and the sea's wife, the wind.
1.8k
She was like a humming bird:
soft, light fleeting-
the perfect escape artist.
Speaking in riddles
that keep you up at night.
Face changer and witch,
she draws you close, holds you so
and then lets go without warning.
You can only get so close,
before she turns her back.
Every time a bit closer,
every time more sting
from the rubber-band of goodbye.
Sinking down further into her sea
she washes over you,
drowning you in the intoxication
of her salt.
She melts in your mouth,
Pixie Stix style;
sweet, but gone
before you can really enjoy the taste.
You press rewind
on your memory:
looking, searching for any glimmer
of her, any flash,
anything to keep her close;
even for only a moment longer.
She wears a mask:
masquerade half-faced,
with feathers and glitter,
ribbons hanging from the left.
She's perfected
this porcelain-painted facade.
Under the disguise
she defies the conception
of beauty.
Thinking her virtue lies
in the mask.
She lies in the mask.
She fades in and out
like the morning fog
over the ocean.
Rushing in
and falling away
once the sun rays hit the water.
The crash enfolds her;
she lets it.
Skin and bone she bleeds
for everyone who ever hurt her,
taking the blade to the skin
she lets them all win.
Playing a loser's hand,
all chips in,
she gives herself over
as payment for who she is.
***** and unworthy;
painfully aware of
her chemical circumstance,
she runs from the torment.
Into a forest of lost time
remaining hidden,
she tries to die
but ever-still;
she remains.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
Adieu chère maison de mes ancêtres
Cette fois ci, le sort en est jeté,
Les acquéreurs improbables, les propriétaires chimériques,
ont consigne la somme convenue sur les fonds du notaire.
Et toi, chère maison, tu vas changer de famille et d'amours.
Désormais, nos enfances envolées, ne retrouveront plus le secours,
des vielles boiseries et des tapisseries centenaires,
de toutes ces armoire en châtaignier et ces commodes de noyer,
auxquels nous rattache encor comme un fil invisible,
tant de senteurs, d'images et souvenirs fanés.
Et le tic-tac mélodieux de la vieille horloge dans l'entrée du 19.
Et ces mansardes, chargées d'objets hétéroclites que nous aimons tant fouiller.
Quant au jardin qui aurait pu être un parc,
comment oublier ses massifs de groseilliers et ses fraises des bois ?
Et les plants de rhubarbe, la sauge aux grandes vertus, aux dires de grand-mère.
Ainsi que les allées de marguerites, attirant les abeilles,
plus **** remplacées par des rosiers blancs, roses et rouges si odorants.
Cette maison de famille qui résista a tant de coups du sort,
a péri des impôts et des frais d'entretien du jardin,
du manque de modernisation aussi. Alors que tant de logements sans âme étaient construits.
Surtout de l'âge et du départ de sa chère maîtresse, ma mère, qui y avait trop froid et ne pouvait y vivre seule.
Et aussi un peu, ma franchise l'admet, du manque d'initiatives et de goût pour l'association de nous tous, de notre fratrie.
Certes l'on pourra trouver bien des excuses.
Les uns furent trop **** les autres manquèrent de moyens.
Mais dans mon fors intérieur,
Je sais que cette maison manqua surtout de notre audace et de notre courage commun a la faire vivre.
Aussi notre maison de famille fut comme abandonnée a son sort par ses enfants disperses par la vie.
Pauvre maison, nous n'avons su te garder; puisses-tu tomber désormais dans des mains aimantes, artistes et vertes !
Paul Arrighi
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
3 hands
kidding hands,
an autocorrection title,
was supposed to be
kissing hands but either works
man overcome with an elixir of Sunday bed warming/charming/chilling, lukewarm "hot" coffee,
melodious love songs inducing
languorously hand-to-mouth,
five finger fore play love making
a potpourri of knuckle gnawing and gentling kisses
upon a hand borrowed from the a tablet holder,
while she reads the paper bemoaning the sorry state
of the world, the government permissions bad guys...
and weeps for the world we are leaving behind
a mood changer with 100% effectiveness
newspapers- a safe *** condiment
think I'll reheat my coffee
<•>
my hand
she cant sleep knows that I'm up at 2:08am composing.
and showed her earlier today
the kidding hands poem
just as the lights were going down, downtown on
William's Measure For Measure
so at 2:09am her hand snakes over and wrap itself
around my thumb as if she was weaning an infant from
what infants like doing, or weaning grownup old men like me from doing at 2:09am, what they should be best leaving alone,
like writing poetry or it could just be the woman
pseudo-sucking a poets thumb as a way of saying
can't sleep head buzzing and in between I love the
livening lying of living with your hands thumb in me
<•>
the facement of your hands
dr. mandy is handy with a needling drink of boo boo bo-toxin
that auto corrects the face's reflecting times drawing upon it,
our bodies facement; an effacement I suppose, or maybe a
defacement.
very little to be done to keep the hands couture covering
from revealing what devolutionary year it is for you: why I write of the facement of your hands and why I kiss them, your hands,
lovingly, hoping the natural toxins on my lips can ****** their aging,
and if they can't, then it is a great way of saying
I love you
<•>
2:53am
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 3:00 AM UTC
I'm a rocker
I'm a talker
I'm a walk the walker
I'm a gamer
I'm a player
I'm a rule breaker
I'm a smile faker
I'm a mover and
I'm a shaker
I'm a questioner
I'm a challenger
I'm a game changer
I'm a grain of sand
I'm a past summer of tan
I'm a small helping hand
I'm a shower grammy winner
I'm a everyday sinner
I'm a life beginner
I'm a needer
I'm a pleader
I'm a leader
I'm a living room pj dancer
I'm a wiki search answer
I'm a hallway happy prancer
I am free
I am she
I am me
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
please note: t/w: violence
-
dear mister life-changer
how have you been?
i know you never answer
but i wanted to try again
introducing myself for the fourth time
i'm a small girl with big dreams
my dad walked out when i was real young
my mum hopes i'll have an easier living
i'm in kensington, philly
it's not a nice place to grow up
with drugs, gangs, and guns
my older brother once even got mugged
i'm writing from my little closet
my mum said it's for me to be safe
but i hate being alone in this place
it's such a small, empty space
a couple of gunshots outside
it's like this every other night
brother's not home right now
but i sure hope that he's alright
there's a clicking noise
it doesn't sound very nice
i hear footsteps down the hall
they're not mum's, they're too light
mister life-changer, i think that might be my brother
he told me you could make things right
but why don't you ever write back to me?
why don't you ever reply?
i want to tell you my dreams
i heard you can make them come true
just give me one chance, sir
it's worth it, i'll show you
i dream of a big wide world
where i can walk outside and not be afraid
a world big enough for every little brown girl
to skip down sidewalks and enjoy the day
i hope to move to the suburbs
buy a big house for mum one day
buy her leather bags and pretty dresses
and not a single cent she'll have to pay
-
dear mister life-changer
i'm sorry there's blood on this paper
mum's bleeding out in the kitchen
someone shot her at the counter
mister life-changer
they told me to wait
i called the life-savers
they said, just wait
i don't know what to do
so now i'm back to writing to you
will you ever make a change?
will you tell me to wait, t—
May 12, 2021
May 12, 2021 at 9:26 PM UTC
Welcome to the land of the soulless, here no souls rest,
We match to mourn another murdered in silence, where do our screams go ??,
Welcome to the land where dreams dry, and a mother cries for her son on foreign soils,
She did not send him here to die, would not let him come here
Had she known for who would hold her hand, or stroke her face,
Or fill that hole of empty baby space, or who will equate her of her grief.
Welcome to a place where people looses lives in urban streets,
Cops cry, say, begged him not to die,
Defense says he fits the profile,
Righteous say, he never should have drawn gun anyway,
He never should have trap sun anyway,
What are we still doing here anyway still jury say, ****** is justified,
And cops went right to life, while that brother is still without his.
Welcome to the land where justice forgot,
Where we fight battles with the have not's,
Where our blood runs,
Where man sets suns,
Where our trust parts,
Where we come last,
Where we are suspects by those who choose to lead than serve.
Welcome to the place where official open season has been called for all civilians,
Welcome to a land where we don't need a reason,
Welcome to a life of clipped wings,
Aeroplane dreams will cut your life short,
Our dark voice become dark spots.
No freedom songs sung here,
No key for cager,
No place for changer,
This is not a stage for rage here,
Its just confusion here,
Its just frustration here.
So welcome to the land of false hope, and no uniform,
Welcome to my last days of trust in blue,
Welcome to my homely city,
Can i help you ?
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 4:20 AM UTC
When I was tagged
As a child,
That meant I was IT.
And that's all-inclusive.
Being tagged as an adult
Means I'm profiled,
And that's a game changer.
It's childish.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 8:00 PM UTC
i set the tone with notes of my choosing
and nobody knows the tone
except for me, of course,
i am the divine mood-setter
tone-changer
a deity of DJ-ing
i control how i perceive the world through my
tangled-up, battered, white headphones
they croon to me
just me
and they whisper thoughts in my ear
so when the world becomes too loud
i can cancel it out with more sound
and nobody knows
it's my secret
i walk around the hallways with tangled-up secrets
and they keep me awake
and your secrets get tangled up with mine, sometimes
and it's so easy to get lost in the music
i'm getting lost
i've been walking in circles now
looking for you
i look for you, hallway after corridor after whatever
wires drip from my ears, and it's all my secret.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 9:34 AM UTC