"crocs" poems
Doubt is the lonely father of fear
Not a clad caped hero
Waiting to swoop in
And save the day
But a two faced killer clown
Wearing ****** crocs
With electric joy buzzer shocks
Sending surges through your veins
Sending urges that drive you insane
It may be in reason
It may be in season
But the summer heat
Can burn your feet
Under the fire of fire
Place you in stasis
As you wait to find were your space is
Letting others tell you were your place is
While they race to chase
A better life
Doubt can be better than blind
Adherence
You just have to watch out
For the dangerous side of doubt
Turn detective to fix the defective
And Steer clear of the fear
That disparages hope and reason
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
camel
C-A-M-E-L
...
... (?)
...
Why?
I don't know, cause they're cool ! . ?
his favorite animal is a camel
and he doesn't know why
but i do
i think, as a kid, he read about it
in an encyclopedia
And decided, "that's how I want to live my life"
the humps on camel's backs that can store water
and they can go days, weeks, months,
I even heard years
without replenishing
crossing dry, barren deserts
carrying cargo, people
i didn't know camels wore graphic t-shirts,
crocs and cargo shorts
but he is a camel
tall and lanky
takes in tons and never gains a pound
(i hate camels)
a camel exists in the Arabian world
is in love with a Middle-Eastern girl
and they even have a miracle of that descent
He IS A Camel!
but the humps on his back
are hope and inspiration
and with just a little in the tank
he will cross a world of deserts
and bring you back a treasure chest full of dreams
but he enjoys simplicity ...
Sometimes,
then sometimes not at all
he takes things way overboard
and carries far to much cargo
but he crosses the desert anyway
i didn't know camels were such good teachers
didn't know they made such good friends
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 4:30 PM UTC
I had a dream I smoked some ***** with a Rasta Man
while we jammed in the name of the lord to some tunes
the children of Africa roaming free like wild beast
once the cradle of civilization turned into tombs
by the ungrateful, heathen souls that ran amok
in the name of annihilation and war.
But we are fearful pious men, as we inhaled the herb
the grass is the shepherd that nourish us like Giraffes
the sky is the ceiling that we reach with our blessed hands
the rivers gives us skins like Crocs to be able to survive
harsh whether, the blood-stained desert left behind by men
witnessed by the pale eyes of the torture souls of this land.
And so we inhaled and puffed like chimneys in a North Pole night
we talked about the smiles of our seeds stretching far and wide
how beautiful is a voice when it’s brought to life by a loved one
how the scent of a pure woman can bring the dead back to life
deadlocked, we are dreadlocked like grapevines until Jah lets us
the mental slavery that keeps us chained to the ships of our ancestors.
We never once conversed about the frail indignity of the mortals
the uselessness of hate, the ways material possessions can’t help you
we reached Nirvana without taking our feet off the common ground
we shared a spirit, bonded between long hits made of peace and love
in the freedom of those free thinkers tinkering with words without rest
in the children of Jah, daydreaming at night in a warm bed made of bread.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
Bewitched in the bass
Too much tail ta chase
Say he like tha way i slurp, no straw
Just Raw, Joint-click-lighter-flick
herb's tha word
mums out for the night slammin her beau just like the dough
to my room,
pop a shroom in Cancún
**** the doom of that mother ****** test.
due in a few
This ***** slew molly be on me
Pop an ollie
flip the switch bae
lets ditch this day and ****
like its flowin poetry SLAM
thighs thunder for dat lightning ****
Crocs...
Imma bring that **** back.
We've seized this moment by storm
Now Lets tear the walls down
Rage
Pillage
Prosper
Party
This land is our land
Now let your freedom flag fly
Lets get higher than the sky
And cry cuz nothing tastes like forever
Baby's powder makes the urking voice louder to DO SOMETHING instead of this hollow nothing
I stuff with stories and dress in Lubriderm
Cuz that ***** soft, baked
this cake ain't delicious
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:49 AM UTC
It has come into question
My love for the Croc
Whether it be in bare twinkle toes
Or with knee high socks
Rubber on rubber
From top end to sole
Soft spongy comfort
To take on the road
Yes they're here for the comfort
Not here for the speed
Certainly not for the fashion
If that's what you seek
You might have already guessed
That left long ago
Trying hard to impress
Those in the know
The older you get
The less that you care
Hence my love for the Croc
And fur underwear
But back to my Crocs
Like it or not
It's all that I wear
They're all that I've got
Ask me which style
That I mostly own
(Inquiring minds want to know)
I'd have to say
Why, "The Original"
It's streamlined to date
With the perfect number of holes
I even wear them on dates
These Crocs got it going on
So let me be the first
To let you all in on this
My love for Crocs
Is just what it is
Be it in the bare feet
Or with paisley socks
You need to get over it
Cause I love my Crocs
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
I kiss the fresh breeze as
The rainforest canopy embraces me.
I still my spirit
And tune my heart
To the natural symphony:
Wind whistling
Brook bubbling
River rushing
Branches creaking
Leaves rustling
Twigs snapping
Owls hooting
Birds singing
Monkeys chattering
Bats screeching
Frogs croaking
Fish blubbing
Deer belling
Snakes hissing
Boars grunting
Crocs roaring
Bees buzzing
Crickets chirping
Beetles humming
And then there is me
Dancing
To the beat and melody
Of the simple
Yet glorious masterpiece.
(How could something so wild
Tame me?)
Listen very closely as
Man and nature
Enjoy each other's
company and
Love one another
In unity.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 4:53 AM UTC
I dress for comfort not for speed these days
And believe me I dress for comfort a lot
Forget the hassle of even tying a lace
When I slip into a cool pair of Crocs
I'm blessed to live near a Crocs store
And you know I can't help but go hog wild
Walls and walls of Crocs from ceiling to floor
In every imaginable color and style
When I dress for the night to show off my stuff
The smell of plastic permeates the air
It's like a drug, this shoe in which I am in love
I'll shout in the air! My love affair! I do not care!
You see I have my casual Crocs
As well as my Sunday go to meeting pair
They make me wish it was Sunday
more often than not
Cause when I wear them I'm in heaven
and feel I'm walking on air
On normal days when I mow yards for a living
I put on my Manly Work Crocs
When Winter is here and the cold comes a-licking
Crocs look stunning with knee high socks
So you see I have all of my bases covered
You've gotta love it, like it or not
Of course I walk on one side of the street,
my family the other
Cause I like to jump up and down, turn around,
skip and bounce whenever I am wearing my Crocs
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 6:58 AM UTC
Come hither my noble child,
Look at this riddle
Where crocs eat grass and sheep go wild.
Come come! Let’s play and fiddle.
Have a look at this lion roar
With tooth and teeth that of boar!
Pride over pride, over his pride
Hog over-hogged, alas he died!
And there are still some more
Who want some more!
More some, more some;
********* Four-some.
Thither see that one!
Still as a stool.
Earlier green in envy
Now dead-red in the pool.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 10:21 AM UTC
Often, the shallows are a good place to be,
Once out of there, no going back, not ever,
Once noticed, return is virtually impossible,
And all pedestals are shaky, no roots: none!
Ensure buoyancy, for one must sink or swim,
So much expected, so much demanded,
One may think shallows are unkind, a waste,
They are safe, though, friendly, pleasant,
Conducive company encouraging creation.
Once out of them, away from safe shores,
New challenges arise, new horizons, all new,
Making one desperate not to fail, not to sink,
One must swim, swim for your life; swim hard,
For it hurts to disappoint, it hurts so much.
Without the grassy bank and sandy bottom,
Creation is difficult, beware the sharks: teeth,
Scoot around the crocs, teeth snapping: biting,
Desiring your tender unsuspecting flesh!
See the glory-hogs wallowing, laughing at you,
Howling with derision; they know nothing,
Stupid hacks, every one of them, frolicking,
Performing in the deep, dark, dangerous-depths,
Unaware their blood will soon feed others,
The swirling waters running red: eventually.
Safer here with golden fish and humble toads,
Prometheus swims here as well as anywhere,
Savour the shallows, dance with creativity,
If you must leave, identity switch required,
Even then, watch sharks and crocs: teeth biting,
Often, the shallows are a good place to be.
©Paul Chafer 2014
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 8:19 AM UTC
The figures through the leaves
And the light through the smoke
Lanterns carried by thieves
Wicked quiet young folk
It’s in their blood to rob
The world made it so clear
For the countless endless mob
To bring countless endless fear
Amongst the silent night
Within the heartless dust
There the crocs will bite
And blood will run from us
Collapsed here on the ground
Lions who lost their pride
Not a single one found
They are trying to hide
The time of End is near
The thieves quake the core
It seems that we do fear
The world lives no more
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
Attention Wal-Mart Shoppers..
You know them
You've seen them
I hope you aren't one of them...
I don't drink
Not anymore
For my entertainment
I go to the store
I go out after dinner
That's when the show will start
I go and watch the people
Who shop at Wal-Mart
Cowboy boots, a tutu, and yoga pants with ***
with a muscle shirt and top hat
worn by a man named REX
a pair of pants just hanging
a pair of crocs and leather vest
with "she loves me for my money"
emblazoned on the chest
These are the people
Yes, you know the people
We've all seen the people
In their finest shopping clothes
These are the people
Yes, you know the people
We've all seen the people
At Wal-Mart, so it goes
I don't go clubbing
There's no fun in that
Late night trips to Wal-Mart
That, is where it's at
A woman dressed in plastic
a man all painted blue
and how many people have you seen
that look like escapees from the zoo
These are the people
Yes, you know the people
We've all seen the people
In their finest shopping clothes
These are the people
Yes, you know the people
We've all seen the people
At Wal-Mart, so it goes
Underpants, and stockings
garters and blue jeans
size 50 denim jumpers
Stretched like skinny jeans
Men wearing high heels
Women wearing...well
Use your imaginations
From a distance you can't tell
These are the people
Yes, you know the people
We've all seen the people
In their finest shopping clothes
These are the people
Yes, you know the people
We've all seen the people
At Wal-Mart, so it goes
Body parts free to see
******* and legs and butts
And people with their little dogs
The ugly, squeaky mutts
We know them
and we watch them
Take their photos
Yes....we do.
dress right when you go shopping
Or we may take one of you!!!
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
Dead crocs and rabbits
being worn and stepped on
as rugs and carpets
and furry trench coats
Panned, sluiced, and
now shiny gold toilets
All thanks, to your
10-year old laborer
Fancy Ferrari cars
Lavishing clothes
and mind-blowing ***
What else could you wish for
with that stone heart of yours?
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 10:08 AM UTC
I wanna wisk you away to a Tropical Paradox
Run a Risk filled Forest Gump Chocolate Box
Wear your flip flops and your Crocs with Socks
We’re all in the matrix , so don’t give any Focks
Where if someone talks **** tell em to lick Rocks
Roosters tend to grow hard just like Fort Knocks
Soak up that Vitamin D while you ride for free
Try and hide those lies, while you Moisturize
Shampoo & condition me, with Pantene Pro V
Face mask your cries, with a Creamy Disguise
Throw me 21 salutes, I’ll catch them 22 times
Even a group of mutes, feel my spoken rhymes
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
1. This is for the people who are alone in a room full of people. For the misfits and socially awkward chipmunks. For the ones who feel empty. This is for you because it gets better. One day you will find your people. Chin up little flower.
2. This is for the girls with curly hair. This is for those of you who are too tiny to reach the top shelf or are too tall to blend in. For the gangly arms, the bruised knees. For freckled faces and crooked teeth. For the girls who hate their body. For the girls who love their body. This is for those of you who society states are not beautiful because you are not the norm. This is for the wallflowers.
3. This is for the 3 AM romantics. For the alcoholics and the poets. For the ones who cry alone. For the people who have passion burning their soul but were not born with the ability to express it. This is for the actors and dancers. For the people who have music between their rib cage.
4. This is for those of you who drink black coffee even though you don't like the taste. This is for red lipstick. This is for your out dated cell phone, and your NASA computer. This is for your crocs. This is for the mimers, the clowns, the people who are too scared to love themselves. Your chameleon soul is inspiring.
5. This is for you, the reader. This is to tell you that you are not alone.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
Dear Diary,
As of today, I am officially a registered Republican
Now before you freak out, let me explain…
It’s finally happened!
I am in love! In love!
I can’t stop thinking about her…her rich auburn hair
Sensuous lips, smooth, silky voice…
She is an ambrosial goddess
Ahhhh just to say her name
Michelle…Michelle…
It’s because of her, I have become a Republican
Michelle has opened my eyes to so many things!
For instance, this country really was founded on Christian values!
Separation of church and state…that’s just crazy talk
Oh, and climate change? Forget about it!
But most importantly, Michelle helped me see that ALL lives matter
Michelle is very involved in her community
Why, just yesterday, we handed out boxes
Full of bootstraps to the poor
I gave my Birkenstocks
To Bernie Sanders…
Michelle says that nothing turns her on more than a man who wears crocs
And I am embarrassed to admit this….
I would only tell you, Diary
But She’s really into **** ***
Michelle says it’s not ****** if it’s a man and a woman
And with her husband’s gay conversion camps, she would know
Come to think of it,
Nothing is a sin for a Republican
As long as you don’t get caught
So, there you have it, I have abandoned my socialist and Jewish roots
Do I have regrets?
Well, maybe sometimes,
When Michelle talks about cutting veterans benefits
For a fleeting moment I recall how it felt
To take care of each other and to love people unconditionally
But then I think I sound like ******* flake
Twirling crystals and prisms or some stupid ****
I do like the idea of legalizing marijuana, though
But my change of heart and this whole Donald Trump thing is not my fault,
There are a limited number of seats open on this love train
I mean…
let’s be real, ok? Americans want epic battles and
Dad never smites people anymore,
Whatever happened to a good old fashioned smiting?
The way I see it, as long as Michelle doesn’t figure out that I am not white,
She and I are golden.
Anyway, thanks for listening diary,
I gotta go…Michelle and I are getting matching Jesus fish tattoos
I know, the irony, right?
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
Sweaty palms in a pool of nervous heat,
slipping feet wade afloat in miniature shoe boats,
like crocs hidden in a moat,
ravaging and ripping my nerves
carving blood soaked, rigid curves
seeping slow, set in place simply to disturb
and distract away from the right track,
pushing and pulling in different directions,
with every whim and limb located at a different intersection.
Concentration locked away, cast to solitary confinement
placed behind a sporadic, thoughtful wall of silence.
White noise, music to the ears of a lost boy,
living in a lost world, on the search for his lost joy.
Angry outbursts in quick succession,
apologetic verbs accompany the tenor section,
swift and low heartfelt moans
carry the regretful tones,
surfing through air waves,
sticks to the ear drum,
crashing and colliding through every bone.
Felt the sound tingle, through every hair in my nose
down across each toe.
A sincere change of heart,
reaching with bionic arms,
searching, never to be alone.
"Grab my cold dead hand, make me feel alive, like a man.
And we'll lead each other to a new start. And don't fear,
my words are genuine dear. Just show me you'll stay,
and I'll never astray, from love through progression
and not through obsession."
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 11:58 AM UTC
Like those green hills
in an undaunted meditative silence
in front of the house
i was brought up
my secrets are pretty open,
i am still a gun with full of bullets
if i spill the beans
i'll be compromised, some one pointed out
so what?
yes, i did fornicate a bit
most unforgettable one
was with an intellectual type
under the 'wisdom tree'
highlighted as a tourist attraction
in the municipal park,
on a full moon day,
that was a condition she put,
i found no problem to agree.
this was the time when we were wild
smoked joints, did theater,
and went about aimlessly
but read a lot, as if our lives
would come to a grinding
halt the very next day;
so we had to finish all that.
it was as if we are mad.
Oh! not to forget the Ashram
over looking a lake
where one learned few things
on life and other matters of interest,
how can i forget the fiery poet,
who got there to get
enlightened if possible in a week
we slept and created a lovely scandal
(you should forgive me for all that,
quite coincidental, not at all intentional)
noted in my diary thus--
'poets are no less hot than other mortals'
Once in drunken stupor
i went to swim in the lake across the Ashram
with full of crocodiles that relished
eating people's limbs
not all, but one at a time,
the girl who found me floating
inviting attention of crocs
dragged me out, took me to her room
in the Ashram, and at that night
she said:"how romantic!
let's go to bed together
your punch drunk meat
would have been eaten
by crocs by now..so celebrate"
she was so much better than crocodiles
in heat, left me in a state of dazzle
Yes now it can be told; one of my secrets is this
I believe in eclectic wisdom,
as ephemeral life has
wisdom alone offers salvation.
i have no great secrets,
no Swiss bank accounts,
affairs with enchanting courtesans
in any Maharaja's court.
The last and only Maharaja i met face to face
had retired long back
and during my interview with him
addressed me "Sir"
how could one tell a Maharaja
though he is a paper tiger that
one is averse to colonial manners!
About certain secrets to be unearthed:
I will recount this in a later date.
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 6:45 AM UTC
hot milk + white sugar + chocolate powder + cinnamon +
vanilla powder + a glazed doughnut + white moustache +
stars in his eyes + gray sweater with a tiger that used to be mine
+ hay-like, unwashed hair + corn kernel teeth +
crocodile crocs + carrying that pack of Monopoly Deal cards
even though no one wants to play with you and you're
disappointed but cheer up soon after + the queer shape
of your pink lips + your hands and the way you use
them + gurgling laugh which sounds quite gross but it's
actually really cute + finely shaped ears + soft earlobes
that I like to rub between my thumb and
forefinger + questions + more questions + even more questions +
the way you plant a soft wet goodnight kiss on my
cheek each and every night except for the nights I
come home late, opening the door, turning on your yellow
lamp looking at your small dreaming body wishing you'd
forever stay my brother who makes Christmas in a cup.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
If I could ever count the cost
If ever I was at a Croc loss
Oh the inhumanity
If there were no Crocs upon my feet
No comfort for them to saddle in
No soft rubber sponge in which to grin
Whether Chinese made or Mexican
If you have not Crocked you have not lived
At the sight of Crocs it brings to mind
Who is the king of the foot line
When the rubber hits the hardened road
It is the Croc that's in the know
So take a ride and slip and slide
Inside the Croc you'll feel you died
And landed straight at heaven's gate
Where angels have Crocs on their feet
Do you still feel the need to ask
If Crocs are just a passing fad
You can ask my feet and my ten toes
They're the ones that are in the know
But their reply will be a muffled sound
As they're both inside my Crocs right now
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 5:22 PM UTC
Overhead drifts cobblestone clouds
colliding with smoother cousins.
Attempts are futile to blanket
bright light, a pale halo encompassing
the near full lunar rock, one and the same
seen by my grandfather in the Pacific seas
so many years ago. Constant is the intermittent
rumble of waves lapping the shore,
one and the same that gargantuan crocs
stalked for dinosaur meat so many years ago.
Crunching my toes through the gristly sand
gives not a glimpse of the spectacled mountains
it once composed, so many years ago. Did
a far removed ancestor sit in those mountains
and see this brilliant star to the east, one and the same,
so many years ago? If not, I like to think
millenia from now, my descendant will
and think of me, so many years ago,
one and the same.
Jul 25, 2010
Jul 25, 2010 at 11:23 PM UTC
you could drown me in
a sea of hungry sharks
or feed me to the menacing
crocs in the parks
you could smoke me like
your last cigarette
or down me like
your last alcohol bet
you could grind my bones
and play with the shards
then mould them up again,
into clean white cards
with those white cards
you shuffle me away and tell me
"shoo"
but my heart will still,
no matter what,
run back to you.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
A knife in the back of the collective man
Let's start with something drastic
Fire for fire
Dear fireman
Lit a match to find
the matchstick
I've been slowly
Draining my own
Life
What I do might surprise you
I know where you are
Dear prey
I know
I know where you are
Dear, pray
I know
Wordplay and associates
Let's make a collective
Trying hard to sound
Indulgent
Let's be protective
Plastic linings
and glad tidings
Keep away the kids
Pills from Docs
and bills from Crocs
We're living in the skids
******* away our youth in Jack
Let's pour another round
I want to be the man you run to
The man you're glad you found
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
No, not for Fifth Avenue or the suits
giving the homeless more **** than change.
This one's for Buffalo, the city above
and below the city.
Where we watched fireworks pop low
behind a Chinese restaurant's mustard frame
on the hood of my car contemplating
Wolfgang. Where, 20.3 miles away,
I saw two men holding hands, and I felt
whole. Where we could find a sit-down
dinner / no candles, but not everywhere
can be paradise / at 9:30. Where we tried
to make love in a bed too big for two
small people in this big, big world.
We're stray cats playing with locked
keys left in the ignition and a wire
hanger snake slithering through
the window seal. High moon,
we held hands, receipts, and ice cream
cones at Anderson's Crocs-behind-
the-counter-custard-and-roast-beef-
stand. We kept a gallon of lemon tea
in an ice pail as our centerpiece / king
suite. The Holiday Inn pool tasted
like **** and boiled my contacts
like a fried egg.
But that's all gone now.
The fireworks, the dinner,
the sexless bed, the eggs.
All buried in Buffalo.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
She perches
a bird on a
spindly winter branch
her pious breast
puffed up with
self
and
righteousness
she builds her nest of
pillows and
lap blankets -
afghans of granny
squares like a motley
jumble of feathers
the shredded remains of
a circus clown
rising from her army green
Crocs (R) to her
poly-chiffon hanky
a mantilla of lies to
her
self
and she nestles down on
her egg of wine and host and
judgment
weaving into the walls of her
nest her prayers for the
unfortunate for the
unbelieving for the
undisciplined for the
flaw of being
less holy and less wholly
the child of
Big G God
she knows she is
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 3:15 PM UTC
Serving up some Chinese, with the chopsticks
swervin with some buckled knees, like I'm hot ****
mental back and forth jeez, I am not this
aw **** uh
tight black jeans, spiked red crocs
pleasures of the flesh, servin mommy big rocks
maybe we don't mesh, get your little brother shot
blow him out his Tommy socks he brought a Glock I brought my ****
double bands, money knot
shooters aiming at your spot
make em twirl and make em drop
make em do the Bunny Hop
pop pop hop hop
make em run I moonwalk
try it with the smooth talk
make your bed with white chalk
****** nose I'm Rudolph
snowy sleigh and flew off
say your piece get booed off
get your melon blew off
****
Silver linings of corona ***** I always got a mask
12 get curious they watch always watch me from the back
Never catch me sober carry flask after lask
And when the pills hit time to take em all to task
Jul 12, 2020
Jul 12, 2020 at 2:28 PM UTC