"crooks" poems
We were two little children
with the sun on our skin,
playing naked in the water,
innocent of sin.
Acting out our stories,
our games were all in fun,
playing naked in the water
by the seashore in the sun.
We played at being heroes,
villains, crooks and thieves,
Peter Pan and Tinkerbell,
pirates on the seas!
Suddenly I'm longing
to find you once again,
to see if you remember.
Do you remember when?
Our eyes danced together,
how imaginations flew!
I've never been so happy
as when I played with you.
We were two little children
with the sun on our skin,
playing naked in the water,
innocent of sin.
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 8:12 AM UTC
is just a word used
to describe me.
You don’t look
long enough at me to really
see though.
I didn’t laugh when I realized
what I was.
It wasn’t new, I knew
how my mind worked.
The word wasn’t new either.
Just the label of being a
psychopath.
The insanity of my sanity
has long since made me
comfortable relaxed amused by my
wild
untamable
uncaring traits.
Who I am
what I am-
it taunts me so dearly,
never leaving my mind.
Resting in the crooks
corners
nooks
that my mind has available.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
Beautiful
Darling you are beautiful.
Not just ordinary-sort-of-beautiful either.
It's not for everyone to enjoy,
Tis not to everyone's taste,
But it is there:
Ineffable beauty.
And it begs to be loved.
I would do so gladly,
Tracing your face's outline
Like it is a piece of art work,
Or the full moon in the sky.
It is so specific. So very you:
Beauty like no other.
You can't see it sometimes
Because it hides behind your smile
And sits above your raised brows.
It likes to daydream at times
In the crooks of your curls,
And takes a nap on your nose.
As a master of disguise,
It plunges into your eyes,
And finds there warm sea water.
It is a little timid maybe,
But with a few kind thoughts
You could lure it out
Into your own
Observable universe.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, who is that man?
You try so hard
But you dont understand
Just what youll say
When you get home
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
You raise up your head
And you ask, is this where it is?
And somebody points to you and says
Its his
And you say, whats mine?
And somebody else says, where what is?
And you say, oh my god
Am I here all alone?
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, how does it feel
To be such a freak?
And you say, impossible
As he hands you a bone
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
Youve been with the professors
And theyve all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
Youve been through all of
F. scott fitzgeralds books
Youre very well read
Its well known
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
Now you see this one-eyed ******
Shouting the word now
And you say, for what reason?
And he says, how?
And you say, what does this mean?
And he screams back, youre a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin around
You should be made
To wear earphones
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
7.4k
A petal haired army saluting the call of the skies
- it made my heart go to her
until I hope her into being
and I look into her eyes -
eyes that shimmer with every shade of springtime
with frolicking lambs and trumpeting daffodils
with the glint of her chocolate stained Sunday dress,
dancing and whirling with the matriarch blues of six generations
to know our dance, but to write her own song -
a song composed of notes she will fashion for herself in
flower petal perfume and dirt and birthday cake tummy ache
and she can write them in gummy bears or wiggly worms
in any way she might choose, on bill boards or in locked diaries
but it will be beautiful beyond words because its her way -
her way - choosing to skim cliff edges over mama's apron strings,
tearing frills on tree branches and turning back her watch to arrive home late
and you can bet when she dreams him in her sleep she won't be feeling that pea.
But so long as she takes her dreams to heart and cuddles them to life
and knows that she is perfectly imperfectly beautiful and remembers that -
that life is lived as much on cliff edges as it is in your own home
that dress tears and stains speak joy every bit as much as a photograph
that mama's apron strings stretch far and wide,
and that though the shades of seasons change, she must sing her song
and dance.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
I’m a woman with some attitude--
not one who will dispense a platitude.
Chicken soup won’t give you soul;
from me, it’ll get you an eye roll.
You try to mask your disapproving looks
with sanctimonious advice from large print books:
“Embrace the moment” “Be grateful” and “Breathe”
“Pray” “See only the good” “Turn the other cheek”
“Accept others’ flaws” “Don’t criticize”--
I have some advice that’s a bit more wise:
“Don’t put up with ******** “Embrace your outrage."
While you were living in the “present,” history turned the page.
God is Dead, you’ve got to take charge;
you’ve been scammed by crooks in suits, who live large.
People aren’t so good; sometimes they’re ****
They’ve pulled the rug out from under where you sit.
Don’t accept others’ flaws; tell them to go to hell.
If you’re really mad, don’t breathe, just yell.
Anger is good, it’s there for a reason.
You’re just a phony, with your people pleasin’.
Get off your **** and take some action--
stick it to the jerks, join the radical faction.
Accommodating ******** just brings on more--
just wait, and you’ll see what’s next in store.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 10:44 PM UTC
Behold the One with the Aries, the Ward of Santa Muerte
Our 16th President voted by 16 million Filipinos this 2016
The 1st President from Mindanao from being Mayor of Davao…Duterte!
He is One with MiJoRdGr (Miriam, Jojo, Rody, Grace)
The 4 Opposition Presidentiables who defeated Mar Roxas
And brought Liberal Party its great disgrace!
The One with the Aries from the Land with War
The Land of Promise – feared by typhoons, but filled with goons
So from her came a Liberator among MiJoRdGr!
That this One should war with our nation’s greatest horrors
-Drug Lords, Liberals, Treasoners, Criminals & Terrorists-
These powerful entities to our history are desecrators!
So by being one with lawmakers, law enforcers & lawful people
By the overwhelming power of the Supermajority
Our country’s greatest terrors…Du30 shall conquer them all!
But first, he must defeat his detractors – Leila, Leni & Trillanes
These triple crooks who want to topple the government
Are also said to be conspiring with EU, UN & US!
Yet with Trump’s triumph, US is no longer an enemy
Our American hatred weakened, our Chinese friendship strengthened
As it established great friendship with Pres. Du30!
Do not emulate the girl power of those Liberal crooks
We got an Olympic medalist Heidilyn & Ms. International 2016
But Leila & Leni?...Can only ruin our country…like blasted nukes!
Do not worry for we have Pacquiao as still winner & role model
Alongwith Gen. Bato, a victim of yellow washing machine
But these Pro-Du30 men…to criminals tough, to innocents gentle!
May God allow this True Change to take place with continuity
Let Pres. Duterte lead us for many more years to come
For the Supermajority, for you & me… for our country!
-12/30/2016
(Dumarao)
*Our Golden Times During PDu30
Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 9:19 PM UTC
Please explain inflation
Why do prices rise
For when I go out shopping
They change before my eyes
I just don't seem to get it
why some go up and down
Why a red car's more expensive
Than a new car that is brown
I tried to do some simple math
I went back to the books
Now I think that all economists
Are just white collar crooks
Follow me on this one, now..
A buck in 1970 is now worth near five fifty
I don't know how they did it
But I think it's kind of shifty
A funeral costs much more today
But this one is a pickle
For in western movies I have seen
My life's worth a plugged nickel
That hasn't changed in many years
So, I made a decision
It has to do with the new math
And that ****** new long division
Wheat is up, and so is beer
And theres one that I resent
To put my worth in when it's asked
It's still just two **** cents
A house...well, that's a nightmare
Some cost more than you will earn
You'll be owing for a lifetime
Your mortgage you won't burn
Water, there's another thing
It's now worth more than gas
But now, our nice tap water
It's quality won't pass
Six cents would get you postage
To send a letter, that's not bad
Today..it's almost ten times that
And that is really sad
But here's one that's confusing
Of all the things you've bought
This one's never varied
It's still a penny for your thoughts
two bits could get a haircut
And it would also get a shave
But now to get this combo
It takes two weeks to save
Hockey cards they cost a dime
And baseball cards did too
But, now they're an investment
And a dime won't buy you two.
Please think on this real hard now
It's a tale that's really old
Let's find how Rumplestiltskin
Could spin straw into gold
Inflation is a ******
It's all over the earth
I say smile, and then bend over
And that's my two cents worth!
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
You walk into the room with your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked and you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard but you don't understand
Just what you will say when you get home
Because something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You raise up your head and you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says, "It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?" and somebody else says, "Well, what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God, am I here all alone?"
But something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You hand in your ticket and you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you when he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel to be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible!" as he hands you a bone
And something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You have many contacts among the lumberjacks
To get you facts when someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect, anyway they already expect you to all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
Ah, you've been with the professors and they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well-read, it's well-known
But something is happening here and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you and then he kneels
He crosses himself and then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice, he asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back, thanks for the loan"
And you know something is happening but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Now, you see this one-eyed ****** shouting the word "Now"
And you say, "For what reason?" and he says, "How"
And you say, "What does this mean?" and he screams back, "You're a cow!
Give me some milk or else go home"
And you know something's happening but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Well, you walk into the room like a camel, and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket and your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law against you comin' around
You should be made to wear earphones
'Cause something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
I hate censorship
if anyone asked me
I'd say
**** CENSORSHIP
Life is raw and gritty and bare
everywhere you look
and this ******* facade we put up
it's just ****
and anyone with a brain
can see right through it
thats why the smart ones
are usually con artists and crooks
because its a ******* joke
its just some game you made
out of living reality
babies see ghosts in mirrors
and demons at the windows
but we convince them they aren't there
and they become like us
they just stop seeing them
those magical things
have been censored from their lives
now dull
now hum drum
now fit to be enslaved
in school
by the rule
by the belt and fist
by the military academy
drum hit drum hit
by war
by tv
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 3:07 PM UTC
Against too many writers of science fiction
Why did you lure us on like this,
Light-year on light-year, through the abyss,
Building (as though we cared for size!)
Empires that cover galaxies
If at the journey's end we find
The same old stuff we left behind,
Well-worn Tellurian stories of
Crooks, spies, conspirators, or love,
Whose setting might as well have been
The Bronx, Montmartre, or Bedinal Green?
Why should I leave this green-floored cell,
Roofed with blue air, in which we dwell,
Unless, outside its guarded gates,
Long, long desired, the Unearthly waits
Strangeness that moves us more than fear,
Beauty that stabs with tingling spear,
Or Wonder, laying on one's heart
That finger-tip at which we start
As if some thought too swift and shy
For reason's grasp had just gone by?
4.5k
you swallowed prunes as if your life depended on it, and to your mental state, they were better than any gateway drug or needle implanted into your muscles
the rough exterior cracked and ripped apart your lips unforgivably; tearing down your esophagus with the force of a peach pit
you rubbed dried apricots onto your skin as if that could cure you of all your sadness; as if it could take the need to get away and drown yourself
until you were buried deep into the soil and there are flowers nestled into the crooks of your bones and you tasted of sweat, ***** and tears
when at night you sit on the edge of your bed contemplating life or death between sobriety and a drunk that lingers for days on end clinging under your nails
and to all the people who roll their eyes at you and say ‘you’ll get over it’
tell them to **** themselves; tell them that when they see apricots, they see sunshine, but you see death to infinity and beyond;
you see all the broken promises that were whispered into the knots in your back
you see the lily pads of roses that dripped with regrets and words that were never said
words that gripped your lungs like a vice in the back of a car
when you thought of love, you thought of apricot kisses rubbed against your lips;
of rolled up aluminum foil
of lighters drained of their fluids in a week time
of the close to boiling water that invaded your personal space and reached the tip of your nose
and of peach kisses from Georgia that dug its way into you; promising another day
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
**Tupac said: **** the world**
And on the first day he wept
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Because he knew God had slept
**Tupac said: **** the world**
No promises to be broken or kept
**Tupac said: **** the world**
This baby was already in debt
**Tupac said: **** the world**
In anger there is no word of thanks
**Tupac said: **** the world**
*He **** sure wasn't shooting blanks*
**Tupac said: **** the world**
So I ask why am I so sheltered?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
And act so self-centered?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Is it because my Mom held me?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
And she was always there for me?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Why can't I see his point of view?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Why are white people so scared of you?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
He was a product of real life
**Tupac said: **** the world**
His bottle was a switchblade knife
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Yeah we thought he was a criminal
**Tupac said: **** the world**
His anger was not so subliminal
**Tupac said: **** the world**
So while we give thanks and pray
**Tupac said: **** the world**
It seems we really just look away
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Man what's wrong with that boy?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
A gun in his hand ain't no toy
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Where was he supposed to go?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
*What if you were raised by a **
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Are we in a position to judge?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Maybe it's us we should begrudge
**Tupac said: **** the world**
What should offend you more?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
The reality you try to ignore?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
The shock of all the profanity?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Or the fact of his poverty?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
He knew he was disposable
**Tupac said: **** the world**
A gangsta rappers's not so lovable
**Tupac said: **** the world**
That was the only way to survive
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Nobody cared if he lived or died
**Tupac said: **** the world**
The industry only wants the money
**Tupac said: **** the world**
But they never called him honey
**Tupac said: **** the world**
He was dead before he was born
**Tupac said: **** the world**
But he could rhyme about scorn
**Tupac said: **** the world**
And now he's dead and gone
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Did you think he was wrong?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
He knew how to die better than you
**Tupac said: **** the world**
What do you pay attention to?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Reality tv and some situation?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
*Being trendy and ************
**Tupac said: **** the world**
The money really didn't really matter
**Tupac said: **** the world**
He kept up the harsh street chatter
**Tupac said: **** the world**
He wasn't climbing no social ladder
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Because his heart could never gather
**Tupac said: **** the world**
All the Lord's blessings
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Like flowers and angel's wings
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Living on the streets instead
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Where the ladder is full of lead
**Tupac said: **** the world**
The lead of pain and bullets
**Tupac said: **** the world**
And not soft golden nuggets
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Of love and tenderness
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Just blood and nothingness
**Tupcac said: **** the world**
So who is holding him now?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Is he where love will allow?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
A man to become a boy?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
A boy with happiness to enjoy?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
You don't like gangstas rapping like crooks
**Tupac said: **** the world**
There's no page for him in the good book
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Were his sins from his mother and father?
**Tupac said: **** the world**
And those who would string up a brother
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Try to just say no when your ship ain't sailin'
**Tupac said: **** the world**
Hey God what is it that you were sayin'?
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 2:06 PM UTC
xxxxxxx
i see you in curves of blue
in crooks in shadows in empty streets
you are behind the refrigerator
you are hiding in my closet
you are creeping underneath my bed
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 2:07 AM UTC
My mind is going weird again and hurting my head
I don't know what to make of it
I think
I want a male me
Or just me. I want another me. Doesn't necessarily have to be male. Can be female. Why not both. But I want another physical and spiritual embodiment of who I am as a person
A part of me just wants to hug and hold someone. And my head is automatically choosing said person, but the feeling of the mere hug and contact is overshadowing the identity of the person by a few degrees
I miss calloused hands roaming my body. And I miss body heat. I miss legs I can entangle mine with. I miss the crooks of necks. I miss snores emanating from a chest and hearing the rumble in the air from it. I miss tired faces resting and appearing destressed. I miss light groans as a body shifts positions in their sleep.
I think I can pinpoint what it is that I miss. Because although all sound like physical and verbal responses, it is not the actions, although they always go hand in hand.
I think I miss intimacy. But what is necessarily intimacy?
There's a few definitions as soon as one googles it
A close familiarity or closeness. A private, cozy atmosphere. A closeness of observation or knowledge of a subject.
My chest aches and pounds as I try to put my finger on what it is I'm searching for. The more it aches, the closer I am to finding my answer
Intimacy.
In-tih-mah-see.
In-to-me-see.
See-in-to-me.
Intimacy is to see in to me.
It is to let and allow someone to see you for who you are, to know what makes you a being.
But not necessarily in your head.
Intimacy is the knowledge of how another person's mind control's their body. How the body reacts to acts that can cause the mind to blank or move forward just off-beat of the body.
It's dragging your fingertips over their body and feeling the goosebumps rise as a laugh comes from the mouth over the words "popcorn butter is actually coconut oil with artificial flavoring" and feeling your eyes connect the dots between those goosebumps to their face and your brain noticing the connection between noises and nerve endings.
Intimacy is a weird state to be in. Because too much can cause the mind to blank and overload itself with serotonin and dopamine. All the while there is never enough time in the world to drag on that forever feeling
It's the act of getting lost in a person and discovering bits and pieces of how you affect said person.
In body, in mind, in response
I think I'm done because I don't know how else to frame my words. My head hurts and my chest pounds with equal force. I believe it's time for me to bid adieu and deal with this in the dreamscape
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 11:24 PM UTC
(I’m) talking about
Freedom!
Peace and liberty
A land of
Freedom!
Love and equality
Freedom!
Is what we need to see!
Maya Angelou said it
So, it has to be
The caged bird sings
But it is not free.
Pretending for money
Won’t make it be.
There is no substitute
For being free.
Freedom for you
Freedom for me
Freedom!
For every ethnicity!
Freedom!
For both gay and straight
Freedom!
For all, we can’t wait.
Always there are thieves
Who would steal your rights.
They exist on the left
And they exist on the right.
They get paid to rob you
And never let you be
If you aren’t vigilant
You’re never really free.
Freedom!
Before someone kills it.
Freedom!
Because the country wills it!
Freedom!
Saw The Liberty Bell crack.
Freedom!
It’s yours if you take it back.
Democracy is a concept
And we have to protect it.
Money-making crooks
Will try to make you reject it.
They tell you everything
Will end up just fine
Because freedom cuts in
To their bottom profit line.
(I’m) talking about
Freedom!
Peace and liberty
A land of
Freedom!
Love and equality
Freedom!
Is what we need to see!
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
I have a favor I must ask
of you, and only you:
I need your body back,
your flesh, your warmth.
Your arms wrapped around me,
holding me tight, pulling me in-
silently speaking the words
"you're mine,
I'm your's. We are safe."
because baby, I have
a confession to make
I wrote poems in your
skin that you don't know
I left there.
You see my dear,
I tucked my quiet rhymes
behind your ears for
times I knew you'd
need to hear my words
so soft and sweet,
My words: I love you
My words: I am here
My words: I am not going anywhere.
(Little did I know you would.)
•••
I hid similies and metaphors
in the nooks and crooks
of your elbows and knees
because poetry must be just as
good an oil as any for a
twenty-eight year old tin man right?
**** I don't know
but that's where they fit,
where they were meant to go.
•••
The first time our bodies connected,
our forces colliding just like
The Milky Way and Andromeda
will in four billion years-
my universe aligning with yours
as we lay in the grass
you and I both whispered:
"This is wrong."
For the first time on
that summer night I wrote
my words secretly into your skin.
My words: "How can something
wrong feel so right?"
•••
Baby, I'm looking for home and
I know you're looking for a heart
so here's mine-
written in words on your flesh
that you don't know are there.
Here's mine-
to fill your dark cavern
because no heart should be dark,
no heart a cavern.
Here's mine-
my throbbing, beating mess of a heart
filled with everyone I've ever loved
and there you are on top.
•••
Then came the days
without "I love you."
On those days,
with my fingertips frostbitten
and trying to text,
I wrote my words on scraps
of paper, turned them into airplanes,
and aimed in your direction
hoping that maybe,
just maybe,
their tips would pierce your skin
injecting the warmth I once received.
•••
To the man I used to love,
You can keep your body
and all the words I wrote in
places I wanted you to look
and hoped you wouldn't miss.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
We are young men buried in books
Shoveling words every day
As we are gradually shaped into tools.
Ours minds drained deep in the pools
Of knowledge. So they say
We are young men buried in books.
We find ourselves caught in hooks
Of wisdom seekers shall we pray?
As we are gradually shaped into tools.
Exhausted, some will turn into crooks
While we proudly remain grey
We are young men buried in books.
We bear fruit of hope from the roots
Of pain so follow the rules we lay
As we are gradually shaped into tools.
Are we zombies in schools?
In our paths we never stray.
We are young men buried in books
As we are gradually shaped into tools.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 10:11 AM UTC
i am of the light
despite
my shroud
that crowds the villains in the toppled telemetry of my steeds
galloping gallantly from the burning cities of my dreams
i shall gleam from her or he
that which delivers
their truths faithfully to their dreams
open wounds turn invitation
in the pity of hungry thieves
who dared to dream
of peasants king-ed.
as we sing
sing
of desperation
in passionate confessions
of jaded wisdom
passed on through every failure
never to falter
in the betrayals of Walters
lost
in loss-less flac files
i have miles to go
smiles to grow
daggers projectiles
from mild mannered children
freshly ridden
of maniacal miracles
spiritual
but not stupid
we are troopin
this lucid movement
grooving
to the repetition of the drum
the gas blow back of a gun
the bursting bubbles of bubble gum
having fun
i learnt goodly on the run
learned nothing in victory
learned nothing in simplicity
complacently
snickering it all away
bullet by bullet
case by case
and eventually the blade
in my compassionate displays
we shall congregate
and hate ourselves
**** the donks to hell
dwelling on the cellar doors
that darkos teacher adored
in verbal massacre
of the written literature
of cracked brain fixtures
seeping the lines
in cold tingles
down the spines of maniacs
just relax
mix it down on a track
spit the thesis into pieces
through the creases of cracked sneakers, and out the speakers
of trouble seekers.
mistakes make us
deliberate chaos
tossed
upon the fakers
who cry to think
the dream
became a reality
mistake us
for serrated blades that rip the hearts from beasts
sometimes i stop to think
while having a drink
conclusive brinks
of sanity creaks
of my humility
secreting
frivolously
the disposing of my jealousy
of your feelings
hellaciously
i rip a felony
from a face
in appealing agony
antagonizing me
in the frenzied forensics
of my oblique
outlooks
none of us
were ever crooks
speaking to self
while being booked
in hell
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 1:36 AM UTC
All I can see
is a wasteland of
stone, glass, metal,
and wooden rubble
in an open air prison
where children are living.
Six thousand bombs,
stirring up
thick clouds of grey dust,
obscuring the horrors
people are enduring.
The attackers are
barely even
warning people
to move on.
The exits are blocked.
The power and water is off.
The suffering doesn’t stop,
and these civilians
are unable to leave.
How are you unable to see
the hell spring of grief
that is burning human beings,
the furnace that still cooks
even when no one bothers to look
because all of the crooks
were just waiting
for the perfect excuse
to make the news
with a justified genocide.
Mass ****** and more oppression
with the weapons
America supplied,
and guess what,
another child just died,
more parents got radicalized,
and if they survive
will you be surprised
if hate is the new demoncont.
that wears their tired red eyes.
The rich guys lied and decided
that unequal retaliation
is perfectly justified,
so we are on a road
to the extinction of
human decency
as the world murders
our collective humanity.
Crack, boom,
the sound of thunder blooms
orange heated chaos,
breaking the foundation
an entire building.
A whole family line
gets an early burial,
as what’s left of my heart
gets carried inside,
popped in a box
to be buried alive,
because their beat
was the same as mine.
Nothing I write
will change the minds
of those unwilling to
listen and see people who
are close to total annihilation,
as deserving of love,
and compassion,
but even so
I am still asking.
Help, please, help!?!
Instead we get beheadings,
mass shootings,
****** assault,
retaliation,
and the expectation
of more tragedy to come.
I can easily condemn
violent actions taken,
but I need to understand
the origins of this rocky foundation,
and potential solutions,
because I can’t stand the
horrors I am facing
without eventually breaking.
Dec 2, 2023
Dec 2, 2023 at 8:46 AM UTC
I am numb
Numb am i
Numb we are all
Numb nuns
Numb nuts
**** nuts
**** ****
****
****
****
**** my ****
**** my ****
Until it is numb
Crumbs
****
Drum
Hum
Numb
Stuck in gum
Or ***
Or drool, **** wine and glue
Like me stuck to you
**** you
**** me
I’ll watch
And use both hands
To tell the time
A crime
Committed
Omitted from books
Like cooks and crooks
****
Numb
I am numb
None
Nom nom nom
Numb
Succumb to my ***
On a street corner
Begging for change
It can’t stay the same
Someone might notice
Notice Otis?
They’re *******
**** *******
They must be numb
We’re all numb
Numb nuns
With guns
And **** puns
To **** tons
Ones and sons
Under one sun
A numb sun
Like god
God is numb
Dumb founded and *** pounded
Until it is numb
No feeling
No ceiling
Just sky
High
**** smack, ***** and ***
Up my nose
**** my nose
With a hose
Like one ***** hoes
No one knows
They’re all dumb
Numb…
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 5:09 PM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Sometimes
(Just like these days)
When my heart
sang a placid song
the speaking brooks
meanders my soul
Wild hounds
hovered the meadows
And the sky was blue
ethereal as the billow
strews in shades anew
For Daybreak
is awake
On the fields
of glowing weeds
a subtle flower blooms
through the breeze
And to thee,
it kisses the gentle mist
Oh! what a Morning
Oh! what a day
When trees glistens
from beams
of never ending sun rays
made me so gay
so yes, it can be.
Sometimes
(Just like these days)
Like Diamonds & Gold
upon barren land
and rubies worn
by a maiden’s hand
Oh! what an Evening
Oh! what a way
When monarchs flew
from voluptuous crooks
dodging witches
and evil dukes
Callous, Treacherous
"A Foolish Irony"
might I say
but yes, it can be.
Sometimes
(Just like these days)
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 9:28 AM UTC
Another copycat,don't do that it's all been done before and one more pretender shown the door,
swing out
swing in and another cat comes ring a ding, ding.
I need uniqueness
I want to feed on the sweetness of novelty,there seems to be less and less of that deliciousness and not much of that newness I can claim for my own,
I think I'm fading into the woodwork,full of knots and gnarlings and look at me darlings as I disappear.
No copycat here,
this is a first time,straight from the bread line into a basket case and how can I possibly face that which is new?
New is getting fewer and the few who do new don't know and never knew what few could be in this land of lots and plenty for me.
I was told that old is the new folding currency and that doesn't suit me,too many wrinkles,too many nooks and nannies with crooks,like little Bo-Peep,I wish they'd all sleep,
there is time for the sheep to try on for size,oh my dear Lion what gigantic eyes,
is that a bit new or just me cooking stew?
A copycat like folding currency folds flat and I'm having none of that,I like the chinking and clinking of real gold and that don't fold.
So beware if you share and don't credit the writer,who with meagreness in his pockets pulls his belt a bit tighter,one more notch he can't feel,,one more meal never felt in his gut,but
copycat see,copycat do,copycat never think anything new.
What are you?
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
Yadda......yadda......yadda
he's dying of loneliness
Go listen to the news
They're Nine million people lonely in the country
You're all known for your coldness
Some don't even know their neighbours
You abandon your parents when they get old
Put them away in Retirement homes
when was the last time you saw your elderly mum
when was the last time you called your sister
Thank God for the GRASS being the scapegoat used by crooks
To illustrate community mobbing let us all gang up together
Now you're hugging the Asians and the blacks are your best friends
yadda......yadda......yadda
come join the club we are all mates now
against that outsider grass we welcome all
the ***** ******* are molesting women oh it's just
to make grass envious cause we've stopped him loving
talk to me I hate you no more because grass is more hated
no more bullying you just join us and help us harass that grass
don't trouble that foreign shopkeeper we now want him to join
welcome Muslim brothers and sisters come join us
we now like you cause we have somebody else to hate
hey Mr ugly come here for a hug just make sure its in front of grass
you my loner friend be lonely no more you are now a club member
you Somalian, you Ethopian, you chinese, you Ugandan no matter
everyone is friends no more hassle just hate the grass as much as us
yadda......yadda......yadda
this is politics we fool and fool you all
when we need you you are our best friends
we show you our commonality and bring you into the fold
just make sure you do as you're told and don't grass like grass
we will give you opportunities to make grass jealous
we will forge a grapevine from here to Kathmandu and beyond
we will teach you hate and poison your stinking minds
we will imprison you and make you our slaves to serve us
just make sure you give that grass a hard time and come for a prize
this is all our secret and your minds belongs to us gangstalking crew
make him lonely make him friendless and show viva democracy
You are all simpletons and that's how you will stay in our pockets
this is a union of morons by morons for morons and the crooks win
yadda......yadda......yadda
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 3:26 AM UTC
mmm, palce lizać, albo wsadzić je w dúpe i nadawać sygnał wriggly-wriggly alter: wriggly-pigglety; counter-alt? calling it: the miracle of five croutons, and two pieces of sushi... c'mon, let's go crazy! and take it to the excesses permitted by the original feat! (yes, i mean the fish parts of sushi, there's enough carbohydrates in the croutons, so yes, no rice-bed for the tartars).
ć is the puritan's aversion to cz / chai;
or at least an exfoliation curbor.
i write honey,
honey honey honey,
i write honey,
honey honey honey
p'ooh bear
droned in on it.
when i write,
i write honey,
honey honey O'Milee.
from serving in the US and A
navy, to a beach-buggy
accident.
when i write, i write
honey -
*** e -
Atilla styled liquorice -
lee co reesh - not
liquidated rice -
ghosts of latin almost everywhere;
quadruple that.
convene and converse -
contrary collective.
some say this might as well
be the famous goldberg sardines;
when i write, i write honey,
i write: honey honey honey...
will you be my Duracell bunny?
honey, will you be my
******** par excellance?
i see... no, you won't be.
the museum of Greek sculpture
was vandalised!
guess what they took,
the ****** fiendish crooks!
with a wet splash of colour
comes the cold marble artifice -
a bit like the cool-mouth
refrigerator of a woman during
felatio... still don't know
how she gets that gob down
below room temperature.
(heresy input, never start a
sentence with an) and
there you have it,
writing, catering for
abstractionism,
just after he said: they're on a diet.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 10:49 AM UTC