"complimentary" poems
I don't know you anymore,
ever since that staycation
with your Beloved.
You were the only one who held
my heart and brain
in your pearly, white palm.
Now it's stained brown
from the endless supply of caffeine
and mugs.
What about
the scars on my back
(from my travels to many places)
that you and only you saw?
I can't help but wonder over the picture you have
of me
if they now rest in a new rucksack.
My soul,
is now in your little backpack
where everyone else lie in.
Tell me,
where did you travel to and what happened?
Did the airlines lose your culture
and replace it with a complimentary
substitute?
You've lost the identity for which
I came to know you of.
May this just be a
stopover.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC
i see the words floating on
message boards or perched
upon the lips of jocular hypocrites
double-standards that demand
sensual chastity and virginal sexuality
in endless iterations of irony
the concussive
monosyllabic words
slung like stones
cast like arrows
****
*****
*****
all labels for
women possessed of
the courage to pursue
their own passion
once upon a time a
Nazarene insisted a ********** had
more integrity than a rich
statesman throwing self-serving parties
so tell me why so
many Christian politicians
propagate patriarchal notions of depravity
in blanket attempts to regulate
the bodies of women
if being anti-choice was really
about preventing abortions
why do rich right-wing conservative
Republicans spend all their time
and money picketing free clinics
when the solution lies in comprehensive
****** education universal healthcare
complimentary birth control
and comprehensive child support
don't dare use the reprehensible
rhetoric of pro-life unless you're
at once anti-war
and anti-death penalty
riddle me this
what pray tell is the
difference between a jealous
religious misogynist
and a secular sexist
it's rather simple actually
while the former bases his
slut-shaming on the edicts of
a two thousand year old letter to
the Corinthians inconspicuously
sandwiched between a celebration of
love and a section on speaking in tongues
the latter’s learned behavior is
birthed by a hyper-masculine culture
grounded in dominance
either way we await the day
when wild women raze
these ideologies
with torches before
rising like phoenixes
from the ashes of
decimated passages
dismissed by intellectuals
as archaic and outmoded
deaf blind and dumb to
the vestiges of modernity
that sap unscientific
philosophies of their potency
and render them utterly obsolete
in their wake
these proud women
erase the hate
from words like
****
*****
*****
and reclaim equality
with a far more
comprehensive term
feminist
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
i left your wine glass
on my bedside table
for seven days
it settled in the very place
that your hands had aimlessly
chosen
staining a ring around a mostly empty bodice.
mostly empty?
barely full?
you see, for me,
the wine glass was
my way of having you
stay as long as I wanted.
I saw your delicate
fingerprints stamped upon
the stem and body
just as they were on mine, under a tin roof
amidst a blanket of summer rain.
......
i washed the glass tonight
as you boarded the plane to the rest of your life.
i wonder if you'll think of me as you sip on your complimentary glass.
rouge ou blanc, mon amour?
rouge comme mon amour?
ou blanc comme mon remise?
-Anna Blake
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 9:31 PM UTC
cuz like,
carrots are alright
and washing them is part of an every day thing.
Think about it..
We could build our lives around
the creation and destruction of carrots.
Everyday could be like black satin astrolabes
in a carrot sized environment.
No more would we have to wait in line
at complimentary fashion tables
for what we once remembered as carrots.
"Does it fit in the paper?"
Yeah.. I would think so.
I would think it really, really fits.. ok?
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
I am Comfortable
able to ease your fears with
a smile or a flip of my
appropriately curly hair.
I am forgiven traffic ticket
proper sentences and twinkly
eyes, able to quickly ease your alarm
I am Just a Warning
I am The Exception
elegant sentences
king's English
never tolerating the incorrect use of their
I am private college education
the accessory to your culture
the other to your subject
always complimentary,
but never the source of discussion
I am Beautiful
Accompanied by "What are you mixed with"
A reflection of appropriation for my own culture
Too White for Black,
Too Black for White
I am inner city in the suburbs
I am Lightskinned
the kind of Black that keeps you
Comfortable.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 5:04 PM UTC
Quaint
pink curtains and tablecloths.
White walls.
The sugary smell of almonds, pistachio
and butterscotch skip around the room,
playing hopscotch and Mary Mack.
The display is impressive,
I can smell each grain of sugar
in these petit cupcakes and dollops of icing.
And then a little girl wails!
Mommy won't buy
her anymore
sweet treats.
Bawling--
the girl does an angry-stomp-dance-
and then a woman, livid--
storms up to the counter.
I said half dozen almond biscotti.
I can't take these to my book club.
Isn't anyone here competent?
Her booming voice has no effect
on the lone,
tired African-American woman behind the counter.
She seems disassociated from the present chaos.
The dark circles under her eyes
and the surrounding pursed lip wrinkles say everything.
Excuse me, but I've been waiting
on a refill of the complimentary coffee
for over ten minutes now
an uptight gent in a business suit complains.
When the woman behind the counter
pulls out out a shotgun--
there is silence.
This ain't what I wanted
she whimpers just before
the weapon gracefully slides
under her chin--
--!BAM!--
As I walk out the door,
I wonder how long it will
take for someone to realize
that's not red icing or sprinkles
on the cupcakes.
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 10:32 AM UTC
Burnt my tongue on some free coffee
Writing with a borrowed pen after
Smoking a cigarette
Lit with some complimentary Boston Stoker matches after
Walking across Centerville
Down Miller Farm Lane
To 725
Up Paragon
To unfamiliar roads and then
Back to familiarity
And now
Here I sit
As
Unfamiliar as I could possibly feel
But at the same time
Feeling the sense of home
Because I know I've been here before
God wish me luck
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 3:08 PM UTC
She may not have been your prototype teen or hiree.
Or of the masses. Or herd.
However, she did walk into a McDonald's
approach the counter
emit an esoteric exchange for help with the cashier
and with knowing eyes
the cashier directed her to the starting gate.
Now
with application in hand
and blue ribbons in her eyes
she was off to the horse races,
nervousness riding on her shoulders.
In my eyes, she was a longshot to win,
where I could see her shoes falling off
before the race started.
And her imaginary jockey falling off her horse
from laughing so hard,
for she presented herself through the restaurant
and a job interview with a Starbucks frappe,
totally oblivious of her unwrapping.
It would be like turning up for a Yankee's job
in a Red Sox outfit.
Who would do this?
As the rubberneckers, I looked on.
Incredulous.
She took her seat at a vacant table
carrying her youth awkward.
Her looks of brown hair, eyes, and raw innocence
complimentary.
But those jeans, high risers, with holes in the knees
with a white Bebe shirt that hugged her shape
shouted trendy but not job interview.
Oh, my.
She continued the procession
extracting info from her phone
and filling out her application.
No doubt with votive candles at her side
and prayers on her lips.
And perhaps blue ribbons awaiting.
After all, this was her foot in the door.
It was at this time
I had an epiphany moment
tears welling in my eyes
as I slipped on hamburger choices
and sipped on past life on a teether,
totally oblivious, too.
It was like looking in the mirror.
Her youth and awkwardness and my growing decadence
towards the light.
When the manager came in and summoned her
to the interview table,
which was located in the dining room,
I saw a little kitten purr inside of her,
where her eyes nervously checked her surroundings.
At first introduction,
the reddening blush on her face and Adam's apple
stood pronounced
but her low voice was choked.
Almost inaudible.
As the manager put her calming hands
into hers
the light turned on
all foreboding escaping.
All misplaces and tense faces replaced with aces.
This was a defining moment for her,
as the golden arches braced her feet,
making all the rubberneckers, me, proud.
Logan Robertson
6/6/2018
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC
Love is a rare and dangerous creature
That only shows face when the time is right now
Lust is a complimentary feature
Which keeps lovers guessing til both settle down
Not to say everyone settles for less
Love doesn't lie, but it leaves room for choice
Those who are willing to give it their best
Keep Lust in its place and let Love be the voice
Love is adaptable, constantly changing
It morphs and it breathes like a woman or man
Lust is impassible, always deranging
It puts up a wall and masks what it can
Nobody knows what happens to Love
When distance requires the mind to have faith
And stare at the images Lust conjures up
Alluding ideas of mistrust and distaste
Isn't it better to let Love be free?
To keep it confined would just let it die
Allowing the chains for which Lust has the key
To govern the feelings of comfort and pride
Be free, my love, to run through the brush
But always remember where you were at peace
And hurry on back when you've had enough
For I may not be here when your venture has ceased
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 12:50 AM UTC
Why should I care you're there,
Or anywhere.
It was you who interrupted the night;
I watched you stare down the fire,
Scrape your initials in the ashes.
If it weren't for family,
The confusion and strained dialogue,
Like appearances,
I wouldn't see you at all.
Stay you do, everywhere.
So I tell a joke or two, one line quips,
And you were smiling,
While you're there,
Where I should no longer care.
What would be the aftermath of such a collision?
One wreck towed off.
It doesn't bother me in the least,
Our complimentary pauses
At the four way stops,
Or roadside memorials,
With faded yellow ribbons and thirsty flowers
Pinned to a styrofoam cross.
There is no rest, and little peace.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC
Sinking Silently,
Crossing The Tracks,
A Complexion,
Blending Like Complimentary Colors,
Caged Like An Animal,
Attacked Like A Victim,
Batting My Wings Like A Moth,
But Grounded Like A Penguin,
Spreading Out Beautifully As Peacock,
But Ugly As An Armadillo,
Breaking Inside,
But Already Broken,
Like Shards Of Glass,
Forced To Be Writing In Class,
No Home That Is Safe,
No Feeling Of Peace Walking Down The Hallways Of Hell,
Surrounded By Meaningless Faces,
Wishing To Be Free,
As A Caged Bird Does,
Singing Until My Lungs Burst,
Feeling I Will Never Lift This Curse
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
Please do not Leave Facebook, my friend,
These storms will soon subside.
ReMOANERS will get used to “Britain Out”.
They’ll grow tired of making you feel
A *****
For voting to jump the sinking Euro ship.
Don’t leave Facebook
For Google will crash,
Bebo and Myspace will return
And the BitPound will plummet.
Latin will become the default internet language
As hackers rule the web.
Be afraid, very afraid.
The consequences of Leaving would be dire.
But if you Stay here
In the ***** of the Facebook Family
You will be safe and secure
And eligible to claim
Your complimentary cuddly toy.
Paul Butters
© PB 25\6\2016.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 6:09 AM UTC
Hesitations grips me
Sometimes with a soft gentle squeeze and sometimes with an iron fist
That split second where you see that girl with whimsical hair and a playful smile and your body is screaming at the top of its lungs “GO AFTER HER YOU FOOL!!!” while your brain mulls over the endless stream of stressful situations
I can hear Robin Williams calling out to me “Let me hear your YAWP!” and I’m shaking, quivering, rattling, generating the vocal ferocity of a lion! And all that comes out is a whimpering “yawp…”
Hesitation grips me
A harmless compliment to brighten someone’s day, no harm done, just a quick simple “I like your pants” a smile and I’m on my way
Simple! Wrong!
That flickering candle of pleasantries is cut short by a swiftly shutting window of opportunity
The breeze not hesitating to extinguish its light
Hesitation grips me
How many moments must I suffer paralyzed lips before my can of complimentary worms is opened?
How many lovely strangers will continue to mill about their days in unblissful ignorance of my enjoyment of their simple, subtle or overt characteristics?
This hesitation grips me!
It shackles me and holds the key in front of my face and all it requires is one real Yawp! The mustering has begun! That key is my freedom of hesitant chains! Just! One! Yawp! I think I can I think I can I think I can! Just! One! Yawp! “yawp…”
Hesitation grips me
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
She'll sleep tight in a parallel universe tonight
my deeply serious rainbow girl astral projects
communes with Shiva and champions chakras
she has the recipe for what passes as illumined
her ignorance of current events is appalling
but that chosen ignorance is staid and unperturbed
I grumble and complain, I use the news like a ******
I put the pieces together, pattern the puzzle-
I see the BIG picture…I cut my life short
possessing a keen memory is like the proverbial millstone
the information is the lake
rainbow girl is contemptuous of my self inflicted plight
we realize its a matter of time before disparate likes divide
I am fire and she is water, I the destroyer, she the preserver
the passion can be complimentary for just so long
Like the lady bard said:
*You read those books where luxury
Comes as a guest to take a slave
Books where artists in noble poverty
Go like virgins to the grave (Joni)*
She'll tolerate my confabulated artistry a spell
I can see she's a caterwauling banshee of protestation in the waiting
Her mellifluous quietude, equanimity and perfect poise can only last so long
Before my brash stripped down vituperative diatribe is as acid in the eyes
Then be off to resume her prior harmonic convergence of heart stuff
as I with my artistic bent, abbreviate my life
*http://jonimitchell.com/music/song.cfm?id=38 The Boho Dance
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
The world was never going to end
in fire.
It was never thought to.
Now. Thunder comes on.
The raincoat boleros around the street.
Momentous,
One two slow slow one two. Earth splits
/ an avocado, molten core discarded.
In the southern hemisphere they are waving flags.
Complimentary colors crawl up the sky tiding in.
They are dancing.
Ba-cha
-ta,
Me-ren-gue.
Their hemisphere Charybidises,
trees genuflected.
Quiet. The puddles are sleeping.
In the north. The hemisphere has run aground.
It capsizes. All the bands are going
down playing.
Rain panics off the timpani
prisming.
The brass cherubs in the clouds.
The strings red shift.
At the equator,
an umbrella floats:
1 bird inside it.
She prays in single syllables. Help.
Please.
Quack!
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 3:10 PM UTC
phoebe will remain my hostage until
four barrel's hipster overlords hear my plea
we're all made of sparkledust and turkish delight
and if you hate drinking sonoma butter and
having money, my doctor Archmage Overlord
said the the "happy drink" element you seek is
less like strong coffee and more like the invasion
of normandy with turkey slaughter in the background
kfc's new turkey flavored chicken tried looking
for drugs in the neighborhood but
timothy leary, his suave excellency, sheik knight of nee
abstained from the devil's coffee with headaches and brain fog
anyway, that's why i attacked the
complimentary peanuts and russian balloon juice
FURIOUS POSTSCRIPT
"no one can understand the truth until
he drinks of the feline's frothy goodness"
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
listening to French pop
"I'll have liked it when it was cool before it get's cool"
sriracha sauce on pesto pizza
"The waiter was right the flavors are very complimentary to the palate."
watching a ****** "me" movie
"wow their color usage in the lighting really shows the Giallo Italian horror influence"
Listening to the Friendly Indians
"My favorite band? They are only popular in Orange County so you've probably not heard of them.... oh you have?"
watching Un Chien Andalou
"tres interessant"
reading Sartre and Nietzsche
"my favorite philosophers man."
my pretention leaking out slowly to reveal I'm just a ********* underneath this finely unkempt exterior.
Is that changing? Well no but i thought you should know anyway.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
Thank you sir, how would you like to pay, firing squad?
-- I beg your pardon?
Nice and quick sir, no mess, comes highly recommended.
Or there's the rotten cotton bungee jump, very popular with our younger customers.
Um, we offer an old fashioned duel with a chieftan tank, there's walking the plank,
And we've just started an in-house hang draw and quarter option with free head impalement.
Exceptional value that one, sir.
Now what else is there, there's the axe in the neck from the man with the hood,
The genuine guillotine experience, the short flight over the ocean with a sharp shove at 15000 feet,
Um, the drag naked through the streets by a crazed horse,...
--Is barclaycard acceptable?
Of course sir, I can offer you a complimentary snake bite with that sir.
--No thank you.
Ok sir, let me offer you this free bladder of wombat spittle mouthwash,
Special promotion till Friday, yours to enjoy.
--I'll take two.
Certainly, excellent sir.
--Is there a cheese shop in the neighbourhood?
Yes sir, finest in the district sir, but if I were you I wouldn't go there sir,
The man who runs it is a bit strange sir.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 2:20 PM UTC
It has every right to bare
this clenched fist of a grudge
embittered by techno-Jovian
whims and base transformations
Once delicately formed— two
tips pressed en pointe, three
others elegantly tucked— it
danced with a golden shaft
pulling indigo pirouettes
across a swept ivory stage
Then came the re-pose: a claw’s
arched looming. Unhappiness
fell as five wilted stems,
beggar mouths forced to fumble
toward those impoverished
humps of white-on-black glyph
The other hand is left
complimentary, richly gripped
by understudy glee, being
Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 9:43 AM UTC
To settle down and reflect on the months passed,
Relishing memories and moments kept sacred,
Looking inward and healing a child once forgotten,
A year's end to really pause and live,
For self actualization is as complimentary as winter and rain,
A chill flourishing among a fresh becoming; annual.
Dec 12, 2022
Dec 12, 2022 at 3:36 PM UTC
How I long to be
The sweater gripping your skin
A complimentary ocean blue
Harmonizing your swimming eyes
Hugging tightly to
Your sleepy bones
Sinking you when you leave shore
How I long to be your jeans
Clinging softly to you
Melding to your wet skin
A blue cotton night sky
Enveloping you
In the heat
Of my embrace
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
We order a mushroom-cheese omelet
Now see you’re the kind of guy who eats jam on toast
And I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t eat toast as all
So when the plate comes, I give you both pieces of toast
And you spread the strawberry jam on it
While I’m busy cutting the omelet in half
But before taking a bite of anything
We both pick up a hashbrown simultaneously
As if somehow we’d planned the entire thing
And we both take a bite of it and
We love it
It’s cooked to perfection and potatoes are my weakness
Back to the omlet though,
So I’m not that great at cutting
And the omelet cut unevenly in half
So you take the smaller piece
Even though you’re bigger than me
And I steal the bigger piece
Even though I’m smaller than you
And you eat your half in three bites
While I’m struggling with mine
And the string cheese is caught somewhere between
My fingers, my mouth and the plate
And it takes me a while to eat
About twenty bites in, there’s no way I can eat more
So I ask you to eat what’s leftover
I guess I should have given you the bigger half to begin with
But I guess that’s just how we work
Where you’ll always take the smaller portion
But end up eating most of the food
Because I’ll always take the bigger portion
And leave most of it untouched
You eat my leftovers in two bites
And the coffee arrives
I almost knock over your espresso
While reaching for the complimentary cookie
I eat my cookie
And then I eat half of yours too
And by this time I’m pretty full
But I see a sign for a free cookie
And I want it
You don’t really care for it but you laugh
Because you haven’t seen me want anything as bad
As the cookie (it's free!)
And so you get me the free cookie
And I’m too full to eat it
So I put it in my bag
Very proudly; it’s my success for the day
I finish my Americano faster than you finish your single shot espresso
So you give me a sip of yours
But you drop a few drops on me
And now my pants look like they have blood stains
And I smell of espresso
And you’re trying to clean it with a tissue
But the waiter thinks we’re doing something naughty
So I tell you to stop
And even if we were doing something naughty
Who’s the waiter to say anything anyways
Anyways
So we finish out coffee and we call for an uber
And my pants are stained
And I’m carrying my cookie
And I don’t think I’ve ever been happier
While we wait for the uber
You steal my glasses
And you try them on
They look funny on you
I like them on you
I think I like you
And you can’t see anything
And I can’t see anything either
Except for your outline
That’s enough for me
So the uber comes
And he calls us
And we’re leaving
At the counter you pay
And I see a Nutella cookie in the window
I want it
But you just paid for breakfast
So I’ll keep quiet
We sit in the car
And I put on pomegranate lipbalm
And I give you some too
Your lips look nice and soft now
And I think today has been a really great day
And I think you fit me well
Because you love toast and I leave toast
And it works out
(except for that baked tomato no one ate)
But look the point is
Is that we work
Well.
And we squish in the back of an uber
And guess what?
The seat was made for two.
We ordered a mushroom-cheese omelet
It was a good day
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 10:35 AM UTC
Vernal Equinox arrives,
a lush middle ground
fresh with turning,
on the fulcrum
of dark and light,
awakening dynamic gaian breath
and ambitious harmony.
Dancing in and out
of shadow,
darting into
waxing shine,
on the verge
of the continuous,
here at the thresholds fray,
off the precipice we go,
cliffs that drop into the burn
of the suns growing presence.
Fire moves into water
like flourish,
Water moves into fire
without extinguish.
The paradox of love
is alive,
with night and day
seen as equals.
In this colossus of rebirth,
the resurrection of winters death,
blooming out of earthen richness,
with the enormity of natures becoming.
On this brink of passions catching
in the Eastern sun rising,
with balance kept in the approach
of spring rains rolling in,
like tears of tender joy;
a drenching
and vaporous
arousal.
Mind is lost on winds of change
meandering amongst the grasses,
the feet hug the ground like roots,
the spine lifts like spontaneity,
bringing the heart to blossom
in it's ribcage branches,
pulsing aromatic swells
moving outwards
in veins of pranic rivers,
with gushing love,
turning the blood etheric
and unbound by the body,
in some natural suffusion
where earth and sky meet
in endless inter-change,
and all is complimentary here,
and everything is reaching,
to kiss the sky,
in gratitude.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
Loaded dice love affairs
with snake eyed girl, downstairs
on chance, is multiplying on chance:
roll, bet, blackout, squeeze and a dance
with the winner.
He’s tall, with a
casino shirt and a seven card suit.
Linked up to the left arm of him is
8 ball eyed girl. She potted her way ‘round the table,
blonde haired wisps of hair
occasionally covering her view.
And now snake eyes is no longer new.
She left with haste, a wind a scent following her tail,
back to her hotel room, complimentary towels, free shampoo.
**Check out the blog for poems and pamphlets>> http://www.coffeeshoppoems.com/
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 6:47 PM UTC