"clicker" poems
you move me
the way
music moves you
the vibrations
on the chords
of your guitar
tell me how
your day went:
spilled lemonade
on your favorite sweatshirt
and 3 bonus points
on a clicker quiz
i'm not caught
in the essence of firsts
like 30 extra minutes
to kiss you in
real time
your dark features and
unfaltering movements
evolve like
the sounds of me loving
you
composed of your stiff-fingered
electricity and a continuation
of all the good
things
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
Too many bottles of this wine we can't pronounce
Too many bowls of that green, no lucky charms
The maids come around too much
Parents ain't around enough
Too many joy rides in daddy's jaguar
Too many white lies and white lines
Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends
Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends
Start my day up on the roof
There's nothing like this type of view
Point the clicker at the tube
I prefer expensive news
New car, new girl
New ice, new glass
New watch, good times babe
It's good times, yeah
She wash my back three times a day
This shower head feels so amazing
We'll both be high, the help don't stare
They just walk by, they must don't care
A million one, a million two
A hundred more will never do
Real love, I'm searching for a real love
Real love, I'm searching for a real love
Oh, real love
Close your eyes for what you can't imagine, we are the xany gnashing
Caddy smashing, bratty *** he mad, he snatched his daddy's Jag
And used the **** for batting practice, adamant and he thrashing
Purchasing ****** grams with half the hand of cash you handed
Panicking, patch me up, Pappy done latch keyed us
Toying with Raggy Anns and mammy done had enough
Brash as **** breaching all these aqueducts; don't believe us
Treat us like we can't erupt, yup
We end our day up on the roof
I say I'll jump, I never do
But when I'm drunk I act a fool
Talking 'bout , do they sew wings on tailored suits
I'm on that ledge, she grabs my arm
She slaps my head
It's good times, yeah
Sleeve rips off, I slip, I fall
The market's down like 60 stories
And some don't end the way they should
My silver spoon has fed me good
A million one, a million cash
Close my eyes and feel the crash
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
You slip into the familiar seat,
You grab the clicker from next to the coffee
On the table covered with cup-stains;
You click “ON” to hear a familiar beat:
“Amber is the color of your energy...”
And click an arrow without waiting for the rest of the refrain.
The image switches to a wolf pack
Stalking some deer as daylight fades
With a British voice to narrate saying:
“They come out at night and sleep at daybreak...”
And that's all you hear of that, afraid
Any more of this junk and your mind will be fraying.
The next scene seems to be a replay,
Some golf that you remember from yesterday...
But then comes a ring for a delivery,
So you grab your cash, cuz pizza ain't free.
And by the time you come back, everything's changed,
That is, on the screen; nothing else is rearranged.
It's an ad for a show on a different channel:
The Peanuts Christmas episode plays Sunday night,
And as the video returns to the commentary panel,
You think, “'Twas just summer, these people aren't bright!”
You settle down again, cram some pizza in your mouth,
And push the button for “Next” while picking some dough off your tooth.
“Pertaining to the subject of substance abuse in teens,
Studies have shown...” drones a voice so boring and wrinkly
It does not seem to fit the handsome man.
And even as you imagine him in a Speed-O or tight jeans,
You flip onto what's next, wishing HBO were free,
And think that a movie might have to be your plan.
It's Friday night, and this is what it comes to:
High heels off, watching TV in pajamas, what you call lingerie
That seems more like something your grandma might wear.
The pencil skirts and presentations, the micromanaging boss of two,
The pathetic day fades into bliss, victory after the business fray,
Sweet victory, channel surfing without a care.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
*Silent Killer,
A Predator’s Smile,
A Guise Engulfed In Disguise,
A Child of Immaculate Torment,
Her Diamond Lies, Insidiously Advent.
Lost In Her Radiations,
Trapped In Her Demented Seductions,
Fenced By Her Hype,
Immersed In Her Gripe.
As The Clicker Goes Down,
The Ideals Start To Facedown,
As I Cauterize In Her Suicides,
Ashes Divide,
Weeping For Absolution,
Filled With Consternation,
Her Angel Eye’s Smirk, As I Charred Alive,
Screams Slowly Vanishing In Void,
Devoid Dismantled,
Lured By Her Lust,
Transcending To Dust....
- 03:07AM*
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 4:37 PM UTC
say cowboy.
say hot dog.
say ice cream.
say baseball.
see, the step into the sound booth is an awkward height,
about 6 inches off the ground,
and i find myself raised on a pedestal,
sealed in for you to inspect,
watching you and an audiologist
through a glass window,
watching you decide my future
as you face away from me
so i cannot read your lips
and you cannot see me shouting stop.
say airplane,
say sidewalk,
say you might hear static in your right ear
but i know i will only hear a tone,
an electronic beep going on and on and on
say conducive hearing loss say sensoneurial damage say surgery say it might be permanent this time,
like it hasn't been permanent for the last ten years,
say there's a new technique say we can fix this,
say negative impact on social life, say poor classroom performance,
say we just want what's best for you,
say try hearing aids try CIs try cued speech,
say you need to be fixed.
it's been a decade since i first entered that sound booth,
noises not echoing off these walls that take a little more from me with every test.
it's been a decade since my hearing slipped away and
i am done mourning it but i don't think you are.
persistence is a valuable trait but stop trying,
stop putting me under with an x on my right cheek so the surgeons know how to lay me out on the operating table,
stop refusing to turn on the captions because i need the practice,
stop talking to me without tapping me first,
stop screaming at me when i mishear.
i am done mourning my hearing and i don't know if i ever grieved in the first place but you are still stuck in the stage of denial,
hoping against hope for some ******* miracle.
i don't want a miracle, i don't want anything god can give me because i am not lacking, i am whole, i already am the miracle you were looking for and i don't need to be fixed.
but you don’t believe that, do you?
so the audiologist can open the heavy soundproof door but i am still trapped inside this box,
the walls swallowing my words as you decide my future for me because
no one wants to listen to those who cannot hear.
say stop sign,
say hairbrush,
say push the button when you hear the beep
and i hold it down with my thumb,
gripping the clicker like the handle of a gun
until you tell me to let go.
but i hear deserts stretching away from me,
flat sci-fi dreamscapes where there is only one sound and i can hear it too.
say tinnitus,
say psychosomatic because you don't believe that i might hear infinity where you tell me i shouldn't.
say hole in the eardrum say the surgery might have accelerated the deterioration,
say we can try again but
i gave up ten years ago and i think you should too,
and i'm here in this sound booth screaming for you to stop
but you will not look at me,
will not even attempt communication.
no one wants to listen
to those who cannot hear.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 1:05 PM UTC
There came a point when the cancer spread to your brain,
A point in time where you couldn't even yell out in pain.
When the clicker was a telephone,
And you sat in a hospital bed all alone.
Not noticing the crowds of friends coming to say their goodbyes.
Some to laugh and some to cry.
All talking to a woman they used to know but now sits silent,
Minutes passing and closer to dying.
I was then only in my adolescence.
Sixteen.
cruel and mean.
I waited for the crowd to dissipate,
Standing in the doorway,
thinking of what to say.
To the mother whom I said I hate,
Yelled and fought and ran away.
I lied next to you,
covered in confusion as to what to say,
What to do?
"I'm sorry for every bad thing I've ever said and done"
"You really are the best, mom"
Thinking it was too late and you didn't understand,
I went to leave but you raised your hand.
Caressing my arm as we lie in silence together,
A moment that resonates in my soul forever.
The moment my thoughts were free,
The moment I made my peace,
The moment you made the decision to leave.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
There is a bling bling website
to which you can cling
and make a sound of ting ting
and call it poetry
You never know who is behind it
What technology runs it
Who the hell monitors it
but then again
Why would you worry about it
when me is you and you is me
I and we
I/we i.e. you
who me?
No
I/we
meaning I is as we and we as I
so me as -it or he- is
I/we
when it/he
defines self
so
to me
then for me and from my side
I/we is you or
you/they
where you is they
and they is you
then who the hell is you
YOU
uhuuhuuhuu
ahhahahaa i get it now
its no wonder really
that it’s you
you! of course you!
you! you! you!
looking for mystery
as much as I do
clicking endlessly
landing recklessly
in lost lands
of
True
oh only true
oh always true
:)
#bling #bling
#cling #cling
#ting #ting
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
What makes me devoted
Not always getting promoted
In fine Robin, print birds fly
noted
Not voting Presidential win
The polls are in we become
scapegoated
We are forced into things
Footnoted
To achieve what do we really
believe
I believe in me
The darkness appear's in so
many forms stand firm with
Any specific term
But the beauty, Divinely terrific,
lovely_____________me
Goes with the territory
Shows the love and fury
Me my story the flower the
morning glory
Staying clear of guilty as sin
I as myself truly sincere
I am not about the win
love to write wearing the
pledge pin
Be innocent showing I care
But this world we must beware
All over the website things
that drive me
Perfume sweet fresh me
The Eager me
The singer is me
Not the jealous me
Over every singer I see
I am the Zealous me
I am passionate that's me
The avid card reader
The clicker far from the
pretender
A poem is the world hands
extend
He is carrying me
On time or who cares
if I am late
Robin her wing lengths
To so many heights
That's why I love to sing
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 5:03 PM UTC
What if life had a clicker?
What if I could pause?
Before you made me cry
And I could run away
Would I ever push play?
What if I could rewind?
Go back and never say hi
Live my life without ever even meeting you
Without the pain, tears, and hatred
What if I could fast forward?
Past your mean looks, all your hatred, every lie
Would I still feel the sting of tears like acid in my eyes?
Would I still feel the coldness of your stare?
What if I could mute you?
Would you let me breathe again
Would I be able to tell you the truth you deny?
Could I make you listen?
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 2:52 PM UTC
Do you remember what time it was when you forgot about me?
what were you doing when you made your decision?
was it as easy for you as it was for me to except it?
I didn't think much about it at the time; now I'm not to sure.
I want to speak to you but I cant seem to form the sentences in my mind;
its like the smoke from your last cigarette is clouding my mind.
I feel like my lungs are burning; why cant I speak?
do I deserve this? the voice in the back of my mind tells me do.
is it the rejection that hurts or am I realizing I made the biggest mistake of my life.
If I cant be honest with myself how on earth can I expect to be honest with you?
and all of a sudden satisfaction feels like a distant memory.
I underestimated the power a woman had over a man.
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 9:00 PM UTC