"crassly" poems
A nerd bitten by the charity bug,
Spoke of slum children’s education
And shining darkness in their eyes.
In the shanties ,the water flows
Like a shadow in cloudy daylight
And smells bad to the kind rich.
My check glistens in the dark
Like a meteorite on a dark night
In the next moment it vanishes
In the depths of hunger and belly.
Other men have fat bank accounts
But are spiritual for soul-hunger.
Poetry sounds crassly out of place-
One would wish the black sewer
Is not talked about in prose as well.
May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 6:07 PM UTC
Illusions come in many forms, many guises.
They often take shape, many forms many sizes.
A blank canvas or blank slate
our minds create
--children of our imagination.
Identities bulldozed by need
we rush to plant the seed
to quickly take its form,
tender and loving
or lustful and cunning
we miss the deception
see only reflection
and crassly miss the person
beneath its shackles.
The canvas a prison
is passive, not active
releases its captive
to our great surprise.
"I thought that you loved me"
"and how could you hurt me?"
with sorrowful tone
we cry "I'm alone."
The romance is ended
the love you defended
was never to be
you just could not see--
and somewhere we see them
departing in freedom
but often we miss the whole point.
True love's not possessing,
will not be repressing,
will not be demanding
nor will it be binding.
True love will empower
does not make one cower
it gives us the strength
to be happy and free.
And should you still ponder
the nature of wonder
be troubled no more
just open the door
let jealousy burn
And if they return
your joy will be great
for it is your fate
that they'll leave you no more.
J. Sandy
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
bingle bangle trip top
flipper wing ****
fingling zinger bop bop
tribble slapper bang
herpe derper webble wob
frankish glub glub beetroot
shingle rampart flip rob
wipple fishnet bangtoot
markly haper mushmouth
yungdid crassly freeten
biddle froto down south
sharple rag tag neepin
oddler dang trumpet
***** gnomey smashhash
villet bridle crumpet
creamy lopless bashrash
oh, the wonderful sounds of letters
amazing in your diversity
always makes me feel a bit better
but not as far as perversity
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
crassly clashing
diametric opposites
seething hostility paints tar-stained walls
coated against cold indifference
interfering ideologies cause pause
cryptic clauses calculate circumstance
vs.
significance
symbiotic relationships deteriorate
puddles of love remains…unwashed
free-flowing determination
wrestles mindlessly
paraphrasing haphazardly
seeking direction
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
crassly lashing flashing plastic rings
creating an ambiance of Olympic glory
impeded good-deed-doers freely spew
fruitarian propaganda at the vegetable eaters
while, chewing cow flesh, the masses only stare
blank eyes match black hearts and the bleak outlook
beacons the barbarians….time to barbeque –
beginning again, the road less traveled
barely shapes itself against the tall grass backdrop
crop dusting drunkards use the ***** trails
and trailing behind….the banished children
broken toes leave misshapen footprints
and mothers can only sob at the spectacle –
underscored idealism stands rage filled on the billboard
presenting hate and separation values
with a clever tag line and overpaid advertising men
irritated immigrants stare up
without being able to read the text,
they grasp the meaning
and with new meaning to their lives of impoverished helplessness
they start anew
looking to the sunrise
for inspiration –
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
Thereupon the graveyard hill
The moonlight, the **** arrest me still
The forms that clasp my hands and will
Stood there as I stared into the dark.
Frightful, there, as I wasted merely
Watch Sol retreat, my beloved dearly
Left me to the crest of moon, so dreary
Whilst came the eve and her baleful art.
What emerged there I could not tell
Some ghastly mist wash’d ‘pon the knell
I knew I stood where haunts do dwell
And awaited my life, me, to thusly part.
In the dark of mind, of eyes
The visions growled with bitter despise
They laughed and mocked my bitter cries
Which rang in the frost’d dark.
From shifting tombs I heard a blast
And saw there distant the teeth that gnash
But stayed so far as my vision cast
And retreated from time to their glassy plots.
Left there was no hellish waste
But dazzling auroras in its place
So the earth mirror’d constellated grace
Here on ground, or aether was I not.
The sleepy moon produced a harp
And bid the winds to sing their part
To lift me from, to effulging stars
While forms spectate in intended spots.
The chiming bells and blissful psalms
Were to me some transcendent alms
And left their glitter in my eyes’ palms
Which refused the word, remained as thought.
Therein I saw my wrongs turned right
That evil in the dark is born of the light
And infernal black is at first white
That what I’ve feared was sun-taught.
I ran, then, from the graveyard hill
Whilst ‘cross the valley the dawn did spill
Crassly, the sun, the shades’ home fill
Leaving me blind just as at the start.
Set, did I, my pen to make
The beauties witnesses, tho’ too late
The ebon innocuous still to this date
I lost them, lost them as I stare into the light as tho’ the dark.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
You are something I'm not sure about
like why leaves sometimes fall and sometimes float
or waves sometimes break and sometimes don't.
The sound of us trickles in the streams I pass.
It's in the steady beat of feet and concrete
and it's the quiet refusal of moss to make a single sound as two feet pound.
But another pair might make a sound? Wake the ground? If I churn out rhymes will you get in line?
I'm a single set of feet
crassly attached to a fog and wind and atmosphere of you.
For you are as present as the hawks that circle and the fog that rests
and equally hard to touch.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 1:24 AM UTC
Latin Mortality
People coping carelessly,
Dissociating, crossly, staring crassly,
Stilled in fantasy and logic phallusies,
Yet time ticks and life leaks,
Money makes me more,
Under false guise of one who seeks,
Love, height, esteem, sight, seeking a dream,
Bulky bags, brimming bucks, books and buffets,
Broad, full or empty,
Doesn’t matter the stacked inventory,
It’s how the items are used,
Momento Mori,
Was your energy used efficiently?
Will you grow in elegance and prosperity?
Effortless legacies echoing down corridors of time,
What will you be remembered for?
Are you fine with what you’ve left unsaid?
Who you’ve led or wed?
Who you’ve fed a lie or made cry?
Always remember you will die,
Ten good deeds?
A score?
Does it outweigh the dark?
Do you care which heavenly bells hark?
Strong formidable, body healthy,
A traumatized mind stares at a reflection,
That of a skeleton,
Drained, caned, infamy preordained,
Bogged down by mental mortal chains,
Social strains, driving him insane,
Perspectively it will never end,
Even death is just another time encapsulated den,
Forever adding details,
To a undefined gory story,
Forever and always,
Momento Mori...
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 8:30 PM UTC
It's an infectious intimacy only you can provide.
It's a wondrous worry- constantly on my mind.
I've a fickle fear I can't get rid of,
A taunting temper that I brandish on my skin.
A wilting wound born out of a sin.
Its a vexatious vase of hope that I repair,
Picking pieces of ceramic out of the air,
I crassly clutch at the glue,
Sparingly spreading it over every space.
Filling the cracks with pictures of your face.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 7:01 AM UTC