"concords" poems
Mami bus' great adventures...
Mami bus can carry it all!
Mami bus can not be anyone else...!
Who will come for you when you get stuck?
Who will take care of the lots of half-dead?
Who's the Hero of the buses, the greatest Queen?
Mami bus' great adventures...
Mami bus can carry it all!
Mami bus can not be anyone else...!
The bestest friend of the Concords!
The great life saver!
Hero of the heroes in the bus world!
Mami bus' great adventures...
Mami bus can carry it all!
Mami bus can not be anyone else...!
Trust me it'll be all good here,
When this bus gets back to Earth!
How many people are waiting for her?
Stuck in a bad world ajajajajaaaj!
Mami bus' great adventures,
Mami bus can carry it all,
Mami bus can not be anyone else!
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 9:28 AM UTC
Should I hang with my friend who I haven't seen in a year or go meet this tinder girl?
Someone New - Hozier
I just can't put my finger on it.
something about her is goregous.
Baby Got Back - Jonathon Coulton
You're right. It's totally her ***
Ugly Faces - Watsky
Shh, spotify, be nice. It's not her fault.
Do Better - Say Anything
Okay okay, you're right. I'll bring her home.
All Time Low - Jon Bellion
Oh c'mon, She's not that bad...
Proove Me Wrong - Dub FX
Well like... her personality is pretty cute.
Some Girls Are Crazy - Echo Movement
I can't beleive I just had *** in my backseat.
Glad You Came - The Wanted
Yikes. All the girls dropped from this party. it's just gonna be me and my three dude friends.
*To Many ***** On The Dancefloor - Flight Of The Concords*
I completely agree. Should i go or just come up with a ****** excuse to leave?
*You Don't Have To Be A ********** - Flight Of The Concords*
You're right i'll leave. What should i tell them?
Working - I Fight Dragons
No i already told them i got the day off. That wouldn't work.
My Buddy's Back - Big D and The Kids Table
Oh perfect!
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit
Yeah I should go to bed.
Let me finish this poem first.
Go To Bed - Ookla The Mok
I'm stuck on this line.
What's a good word to describe Port Veritas? Like... one word?
Home - Phillip Phillips.
That's adorable... you're so right.
See You Again - Wiz Kahlifa
**** you spotify that was super uncalled for. Now i'm bummed out.
Get Over It - Ok Go
Dude. That's like super insensitive
Ungrateful - Streetlight Manifesto
No i'm not ungrateful. I love you, you just don't need to make me cry when i'm down in the dumps like that.
Lean Into The Fall - Mona
I guess you're right. Fine. Thank you.
All The Stars In Texas - Ludo
That's the nicest thing that anyones ever said to me. I like when you do that.
Like or Like Like - Miniature Tigers
Uhh, i guess like like. You're pretty much my favorite app.
R U Mine? - Arctic Monleys.
I think maybe you're moving a little fast spotify... i don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys
This is getting weird. I'm going to bed.
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie
Okay no, seriously i'm turning you off.
Don't Unplug Me - All Caps.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
~dedicated to the old poets here~
the addictive pairing of certain words, a line,
a lyric, slap-snapping you to full attention,
unfailing decades of instant recognition,
an adrenaline + caffeine shot that powers
a chance, a tensile injection that causes
the lips to commence a new choreography,
the fingers to tap, a jumbled, hurried, embattled
disorderly mess that regenerates, reformulates,
concords into agreement, a harmonic consistency
a geometry of many differing angles that equate
a hard physical, a soft mentality in a singled work,
coexisting in a sacred state of singed confluence,
though imperfect, satisfies mathematical boundaries
of a random outpouring, crowning the stripe inspiring
the spark that finally satisfyingly silences an ignited
filament a-glowing for years, that holy happens
to cross your antennae, fulfilling the need to honor,
the sacred geometry of chance, the honor to need,
the joy of saying, at last, this unwritten debt, paid!
————————————————————————-
(1) a favorite of many years, a lyric from “The Shape of My Heart” by Sting
(2) Dec 3 2020 2:53pm NYC
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 2:59 PM UTC
In spring meadow a new song is—
Laid on an earthly table with birds
To feather nest, breaths remember,
Budding poems of leaves embrace,
All season is watered, warmly held
Dearly, bright and kept into drying
Bouquets. Little creatures—flutter
In concords, humming with breeze
Caught fallows freed into sanctuary
Of bloom and spark, do clearly note
Abundance soon will break, arrived
To reasons that trail green into fires
Of earned, autumnal transcendence,
The flowers of peak, mature fruition.
In a spring meadow, celebrations all
Thrown— confetti let loose by Gods.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 7:41 PM UTC
'What shall we talk about today?'
Spin, spin, spin the conversation
into loops and recapitulations.
Cassettes were my sustenance but
a vinyl record spins on the turntable.
Won't you tell me what song is playing right now?
Rests, then
block chords, then
swing-swung rhythm.
Then,
unexpected concords.
Where did those blue notes come from?
And colour our red, some supposed red, into
purple?
But jazz has always been unpredictable.
I grew up on the clarity and
gravity
of soft pink time;
pearl-notes to the steady, steady,
steady
beat of a metronome.
But now,
now?
Syncopation.
My
beat
against your
beat
and we make a violently violet
bossa nova.
Suddenly the classically trained flautist
has time-travelled to her very first lesson.
Because no sound flutters out of the mouthpiece
and her fingers can't keep up.
Swing-swung
syncopation
and she doesn't know to breathe anymore.
Where did those blue notes come from?
Silence.
Have we reached the final double bar?
The cadence is imperfect,
unresolved.
Listen, a cold snap of instant jazz
knocked us over.
Arms clasped, teeth chat-chat-
chattering.
1,
2,
3 -
A not-quite waltz.
But jazz has always been unpredictable.
Won't you tell me what song is playing right now?
I think we know what it is but can't figure it out.
And so Cole Porter and Billie Holiday save us
from
fading out.
'Let's do it, let's fall in-"
I don't want this song to be over.
I don't even know what it's called
but
don't let it end, don't let it,
don't
don't
don't.
I can't cook but I think
I can make
instant jazz.
And you,
and you...
You'll write dizzy like
a Coltrane solo.
As you do.
And I'll lay down my flute,
struggle out of my red minuet and
wonder:
Where did those blue notes come from?
But jazz has always been unpredictable.
'What shall we talk about now?'
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
you know there are neo-nazis in poland? a friend once joked. i looked at the news and would have asked had i the chance: you know there are neo-nazis in dover?
well given china and india, and given the freaky
scientific Europeans spiked-up with power
having conquered the Mongolians in Bohemia
but being defeated by nozzles of greedy mosquitoes
in the resurrected Aztec man as the atomised
mesoamerican re-awoke:
with the peak the zika viral
infection that's hardly an imitable dance
on a saturday night (pigeon brain
in a cranium aquarium five times the size);
lazy *** with ants making it move
and set sail... play terrible unthinking
chess with hope of a robot beating a russian
known as deep big bogus blue...
well, we have someone named samuel
passing a short-change economy as a banker's bonus...
while the hyenas grew feathers and flew
into darwin's paradise of high-brow concords:
the dumb ones said: the rollin' stones vs. the beatles?
the smart ones said: frank zappa vs. bob dylan?
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
In spring meadow a new song is—
Laid on an earthly table with birds
To feather nest, breaths remember,
Budding poems of leaves embrace,
All season is watered, warmly held
Dearly, bright and kept into drying
Bouquets. Little creatures— flutter
In concords, humming with breeze
Caught fallows freed into sanctuary
Of bloom and spark, do clearly note
Abundance soon will break, arrived
To reasons that trail green into fires
Of earned, autumnal transcendence,
The flowers of peak, mature fruition.
In a spring meadow, celebrations all
Thrown— confetti let loose by Gods.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
You see me day by day at the corner
Pockets in hand
Shelves of rotting produce cardboard boxes
20 cent sweets that past their sell by date a year ago..
Diligently you see me, come rain or high waters
I stand there pockets in hand
From dusk till dawn
Broken lips that whistle all day
Zimba chips, Cool time, packet tamaties.
A tune the little ones love to hear
No choice I have, ends meat is all I crave
But you brand me as a low class citizen.
Education I have not The Class room smarts they say
I can't construct a well thought out sentence
With concords alliteration and all those linguistic devices.
But I know how to communicate
I can't solve Linear Equations or know who pythagoras is
Buh I give you correct change to the last decimal.
I give you tabs that your hyper markets and pick & pays stores will never allow.
But you still brand me as a low class citizen
Any mischievous activities occur I'm the first to wear the blame.
And no apology is afforded to me
The man at the corner
The robs I wear are not to my liking but are a testament to my financial struggle.
All you see is a **** Bo tsotsi.
Does a mans status really revolve around money.
How I wish my luck will change with those 7 miniature *****
But still you'll find me, the man at the corner.
You pass me by in your luxury cars with your fancy titles.
I have only known Bra Dross.
Well that's sufficient for me
Buh still with your discerning eyes feel like shackles to my navel constricting my ambition to pass on my name
But still you find me, the man st the corner
I excepted my fate buh still looking forward to my better day
Next time you see the. Man at the corner
Leave a greet for him, share a smile with him
He is just a man
A man at the corner who said no to un lawfulness
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 8:16 AM UTC
Decade of decades thru’
Crawled, walked and ran amuck
Flied, cruised, dived n’ delved
Stumbled, fumbled and tumbled
Blithe, he, the centenarian!
Transited and trespassed
All seasonal fare and furor
Of quirks, quacks and quakes,
Of chaos, canards and concords
Of fun, frolic and foolish
Neither did his debilitating diabetes got him scared
Nor hyperbolic hypertension placed him scourged
Death dared not break his breath; he is fit to the core
But the day is not too far for him to rest his oar
Fantastic phantasmagorias reeling
Through the clumsy chip of his mind
Century past was his prolonged sanctuary,
Reminisced he in awe, what he saw;
From rude n’ rustic paths to roadways,
From wading to waterways and skyways
Blowing cannons turning into zooming rockets
Swords and knifes on to guns n’ pistols
Heels of horses over to powered wheels
Wars broke into battles and battles unto wars, of course,
Anarchy of monarchy tamed and tuned to democracy
Candled kingdoms switched over to electrified nations
Electronic wizards brought life easy, cozy, busy and rosy
All was well that went but not so well as it wanted
The glitter of stars vanished in horizon
In the gutter of urban agglomeration
Greenhouse gases displaced the granary of greenery
None bothered of the smothered mother earth
Human values sunk in exchange of currency
Poor like him left their prayers unanswered since
“Does it carry any sense for me to hit century” he surmised
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
I feel my life slipping away
As my soul enter this page
My path is unclear
Death could be near
Ignorance of death
Is bad for your health
But so Is car crashes
And the newest fashion
People dying over Concords
Same time a new life was born
Cut the umbilical cord....
And along with it cut all the bull ****
Give me all the positive
And take away all the negative
Make a newer picture
Get a different mind frame...
Now im spitting spoken word on a street called Concord
And everybody saying Mikey B please do an encore
So Live life how you want to live it
I'm living the life of a poet
So let me live it...
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 7:41 PM UTC
Greenleigh:
Rounding your cottage side,
There you were, bundles tied,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
What plan were for the blooms?
In the kitchen rose fumes,
You truly hoped for a tryst,
Wine love potion cauldron,
Boiled in my drink to stun,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed.
Haven:
My beauteous neighbor,
I submit to ardor,
All in obscure struggles midst,
I see your distant gaze,
But you I try to faze,
You were all to me exist,
“I will beckon at noon,
In this hot summer June,”
All in obscure struggles midst.
Greenleigh:
But as I spy, I think,
Then discreetly slink,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I culled my own blossoms,
His allures my thraldoms,
I truly hoped for a tryst,
To you a bit of remorse,
Yet my heart waxed full force,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I catch the way you stare,
I will avoid our affair,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Supplanted your fetters,
Entreaty, scrawled letters,
He were all to me exist,
I thought to meet halfway,
Might I be led astray,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Wyn:
And I received her word,
Intended a detour,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Read the book of magic,
My love to you chronic,
I truly hoped for a tryst,
Donned my riding garments,
Leas, with my assortments,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Her eyes, you I outshone,
Heedless to her writ tone,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Fancied your ivor teeth,
Smooth skin, your clothes ‘neath.
You were all to me exist,
In daydreams I drifted,
Blunders, I self chided,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Greenleigh:
Shocked when I saw him trot!
With grasp I became fraught,
All in obscure struggles midst,
He visits you, not me,
Deceit deserved, yet plea!
You were all to me exist,
Could not look in his eye,
Yet utter not goodbye,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Haven:
“Neighbor, wrong I done ye!”
I watch only blankly,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Her twisted mouth distressed,
No one thought we were blessed,
You were all to me exist,
I mumbled, brimming tears,
Should have asked direct, fears,
All in obscure struggles midst,
He was the fool of fate,
Confused yet did await,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I vied for your full love,
As you to his yet shove,
I only hoped for a tryst,
Rapt in misconceptions,
Mocked us, even aspens,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
All:
Yet not so sly were we,
Does cognizance come bleak,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
We greeted happenchance,
What’s left but insistence?
Our furtive attempts yet missed,
Admit not errs, turn rightwards,
Fracturing our concords,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Greenleigh:
Anxiously sipped bottles,
And did we start battles,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Suffused eyes, flushed faces,
Affects spill, anguishes,
Our furtive attempts yet missed,
We die lone in shambles,
Bonds of love in scrambles,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed.
Feb 10, 2020
Feb 10, 2020 at 7:53 PM UTC
In spring meadow a new song is—
Laid on an earthly table with birds
To feather nest, breaths remember,
Budding poems of leaves embrace,
All season is watered, warmly held
Dearly, bright and kept into drying
Bouquets. Little creatures— flutter
In concords, humming with breeze
Caught fallows freed into sanctuary
Of bloom and spark, do clearly note
Abundance soon will break, arrived
To reasons that trail green into fires
Of earned, autumnal transcendence,
The flowers of peak, mature fruition.
In a spring meadow, celebrations all
Thrown— confetti let loose by Gods.
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 7:32 PM UTC
.
In spring meadow a new song is—
Laid on an earthly table with birds
To feather nest, breaths remember,
Budding poems of leaves embrace,
All season is watered, warmly held
Dearly, bright and kept into drying
Bouquets. Little creatures—flutter
In concords, humming with breeze
Caught fallows freed into sanctuary
Of bloom and spark, do clearly note
Abundance soon will break, arrived
To reasons that trail green into fires
Of earned, autumnal transcendence,
The flowers of peak, mature fruition.
In a spring meadow, celebrations all
Thrown— confetti let loose by Gods.
.
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 2:41 PM UTC
.
In spring meadow a new song is—
Laid on an earthly table with birds
To feather nest, breaths remember,
Budding poems of leaves embrace,
All season is watered, warmly held
Dearly, bright and kept into drying
Bouquets. Little creatures—flutter
In concords, humming with breeze
Caught fallows freed into sanctuary
Of bloom and spark, do clearly note
Abundance soon will break, arrived
To reasons that trail green into fires
Of earned, autumnal transcendence,
The flowers of peak, mature fruition.
In a spring meadow, celebrations all
Thrown— confetti let loose by Gods.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
the easiest way to not understand is via claiming words congregate to make a salad, rather than slowing down your reading pace, just so you don't end up in an epileptic fit of reasoning, something you engaged with full consent is here, but you have to slow down... you think you can read philosophy quickly? how's that epileptic ellipsoid working out for you?
i almost seem tongue tied,
or at least my hands are,
to say the 20th century
was born at the hands of jack
the ripper and edward gein
rather than the holocaust,
so few the charm the moving
evil: so personal and so charitable,
why is it that criminal acts
are most influential when in
parameters of friendships and other
encirclements?
this cultural encompassing dynamo
begins with a few worthy contestants,
of concords
and humanity as a whole?
what, as if elizabeth ii would care?!
affect the few and the masses curdle
with the rivers of milk are brought to a boil;
affect the many and the few involved
are the only involved, if involved at all:
so many lives passing,
you can almost churn a tearful of hopes...
remember, make consent of horror
among the few, and your effect will be
everlasting, but brought before the congregation
of the many without the few:
and your hope to matter will hardly matter
as the embedded coordinate of thought
that's memory, in libra's leverage
akin to a winter tree's health of coordination
balanced, while the branches did their
beckoning act of acrobatics for a nodding.
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 8:05 PM UTC
In all vice and virtue there is a duty to fight for the endeavor of a purpose , fueled by concords; family’s ties we can’t afford .
Bound by a motionless impregnated common sense . To be or not to be that is the question I guess ?
Apr 27, 2021
Apr 27, 2021 at 3:15 AM UTC