"cuffing" poems
I've been sleeping in odd places
next to a ***** blanket
on the floor of this cold apartment.
I get little sleep because my insomnia
keeps saying ridiculous ****
and its starting to scare me.
I find myself frozen when he asks me
Do you think you know yourself
He tells me I care too much about the answers
I tell him he isn't very good company.
He tells me I try too hard for others
that I'm only going to get my heart broken.
I tell him it's still worth it
He crawls closer to the couch
and impersonates my crying.
I've been sleeping in odd places
next to a confused womanizer
on the bed that can't stop squeaking.
They never look at me directly
they can't afford to find attachment
under these eyes of mine
when it's only the cuffing season
I've been sleeping in odd places
next to my anxiety
on the floor of my mind.
I'm clutching onto these old photographs
like little snippets of my life
I'm trying to piece myself together
with all the bad that I have done
So I'll cut all these photos
Keep some to collage myself
And make some meaning of it all
I've been sleeping in odd places
Under the Tennessee stars
Swaying in my hammock
I hear the fire crackle
And I know this is a photo
I'll keep for myself
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 8:04 PM UTC
after centuries and centuries and centuries of:
pain and suffering,
chains and ankle cuffing,
segregation and impossible laws,
human degredation and deaths for the cause,
coloured lines and last picks,
work in the mines and barbie-like wigs,
culture termination and the education of self-hate,
fake freedom motivation and penitentiary execution dates,
community sabatoge and destruction of black owned schemes,
settle down for hip hop dialogue and basketball dreams
racial slurs and monkey metaphors,
television blurs and the world shutting doors,
the white man's drugs and melanin filled prisons,
talent that lacks funds and vietnam missions,
death of our black icons and imprisonment of mandela
death of trayvon and others on the death list which could go on forever...
do you have the right to tell "bottom barrels" not to dream to be on the top?
do you wonder why forgiveness is slowly yielding in the world, as if it sees a sign that says it's time to stop?
do they not say we must practice what we preach?
are they not preaching hate?
are they not preaching inequality?
are they not preaching the false levels of life?
is it too hard for the world to practice equality?
is it too hard for the world to live in harmony?
is it too hard for the world to see the similarities in our differences?
is it too hard for the world to live without fear of colours?
is it too much to ask for peace???
- t.m
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 2:25 PM UTC
I'm jealous of your pen.
Jealous of the way your hands will never caress my skin like you hold it.
Jealous of the way you won't ever twirl me on a wooden dance floor like you spin it.
I'm jealous of your tie.
Jealous of the way it wraps around your neck, a place my arms will never be.
Jealous of how nothing separates it from your skin except a shirt, but I have red tape cuffing my hands behind my back when I want nothing more than to let them roam beneath the collar of your blue-striped button down.
I'm jealous of your ears.
Jealous of the words they get to hear when mine aren't around to listen.
Jealous of the way they get to hear i love you spill over and over again from your pillowy lips, the same lips that form into a smirk after you tell a joke and make me feel like the most important person in the world.
I'm jealous of the way you make me feel.
Jealous, because, I'll never make you feel that way, too.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 2:06 PM UTC
bad boy, i got a weakness
i like the taste of blood licked from my
own hands from being reckless
tearing hearts out their intended
cavities and im afraid my mouth
is cold from being exposed
i guess i keep the charade
of getting mad at you
for not buying me cigarettes
or not telling me to quit them depending
if im interested in you
i go to the gym to heal
all of my mistakes instead of church
and its cuffing season
want you to tie me to your mast
and leave me there all season
then afterwards we'll never text each
other again because you're a bad boy
and you are no good for me
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 3:10 PM UTC
Amongst the stretches
Of chiseled sidewalk
Stuck with gum and bullet holes,
Waves of black water
Spilled over grass
Dangling in the pull
Of the moon's smirk.
Strung from strands
Of yarn not yet dyed
Hung a bench of sticks
And thorns and buds
With the potential to be
Pretty,
And with shoes cuffing
The ankles of skin
Pale as the shallow murk
Of the wavering sky,
Swinging with the steady
Beat of the croaks
And raspy whispers from
A hat covered head,
A splash of water,
Cool with the gentle peace
Of the final page
Of a book unwritten,
But open to any reader
Who dare choke on the waves themselves.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
(Genesis chapter 1:6 and God said: “Let there be a firmament in the midst of the water, and let the waters be divided by the water.” I never understood this statement, well not until I wrote this poem).
The ocean.
It’s just a wetter version of the sky
a graveyard' of poetry
that broke into my heart and open my eyes,
and I saw the brightest darkness mirror reading
handwritten dreams cuffing the stars consoling the rain
whom tears laugh
and in that laughter, I hear the words
God hates you
these insulting tears that only once god could hear
now speaks to me with warring tongues
and I had nothing deep to say
just a crushed sentence
a pile of regret
a sky that jumped on my train thought
and we went from an angelic blue to a halo of black.
God, I do apologize if you feel like I have displeased you.
See I have been searching for a weightless god
because the others are too heavy
and too weak like watered down gospel,
Weak like the dark side of poetry
Weak like a religious inside joke no one gets
Forgive me for you know everything I don't
so tell me am I a self-portrait of you and will you promise to
clean ***** lost souls like mine
and will u forgive me for having an enchanted mind
You see I often mistook you for a poem that has never been written
Mistook you for masculine words that became undone
I mistook you for a selfless father that has more than one son
Mistook you for a sky filled with multiple sunsets.
I know nothing of you,
you unseen god
tell me am I of the other god
am I his fleshly creation standing outside my normal heartbeat
and on the footnotes of his story
standing breathing whirlwinds on death ears of soundless music
into the lungs of his bible
The lungs of his heaven that often resembles the blood stains in his hell
blood that flows throughout my veins and into an anthem of sorrow
Sung with broken tongues
sorrow buried in all kind if ancient languages
And I sit in this hell crying with roses
that's been wounded by his thoughts and
his words shoved into each other and I hate this
so much that I stripped down to pain and
I am exposed naked with caution
and I can see that my heart is a jealous god also
an egoistic ghost filled with love I never felt
a love that has no title
a love I am not entitled to feel
and why should I be
When that god knows I am a sleepwalking addict high off of pain
why should I be when that God knows I am as useless as a headless butterfly
When I should be more like the ocean
Yeah just a wetter version of the sky
The human body is made up of 75% water
(So in Genesis chapter 1:6 when God said “Let the water be divided by the water.” Where did that water go? It is in me).
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC
Take me back to when top hats were like business suits
When the white moths had become black with filth
When the Thames was brown like the rotted teeth of beggars
And not just because of the mud
When the Irish and the Slavic were exotic
When London was Birmingham
When Birmingham was Liverpool
When Liverpool was a country village
When there were millions
And yet they were still so innocently oblivious
Take me to the city clothed in black
For there was always a funeral somewhere
London
The noisy factories
And crowded slums
The fear that the cold brings
The pain that disease brings
The real London
The honest London
The dark, deadly London of my nightmares
Every narrow, dimly-lit alleyway dripping with **** and blood
Full of criminals and drunks
Ominous dark brown bricks
The suffocating stink that follows you wherever you go
Cursing, begging
Lifting, cuffing, gaffing, looting, nicking, pinching, swiping, thieving, pilfering, pillaging
Hundreds of words for stealing
Where the poor are painfully poor
Where every woman that smiles at you is a **********
Corpses lying in the streets
Next to gas lamps
The only beacons of light
People packed into bedrooms like chickens
Sleeping on the string
Highly disturbing
But it's best not to interfere
For someone else will deal with it
Industry and decency will save us all
There is no trace of that now
Except the noble stone buildings
Commissioned by the corrupt
This is my fear and obsession
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 4:10 PM UTC
He said he'd rob a bank for me.
What?
No!
Then he gets caught. Like a fish on a hook, and where does that leave me?
Talking to him through a pitch black telephone, on the other side of a glass window, on some old wooden chair.
Seeing him dressed in orange uniform and a guard behind his back, like loving him was some sort of crime in itself, and then before you know it, times up.
A mere few minutes, for him to see how much I loved him, and it'd break my heart, like how a glass lands harshly on tile floors, it'd break me every time.
To think he'd have to get locked up behind metal poles, every night, when my arms would have done enough cuffing.
I couldn't.
I wouldn't.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
These words that have pull and plunge your being into an intense trip. Watch the words, fly off the page and take you through time faster than any Uber or Lyft.
For this neat little trick, we employ the words that grip.
The ones that squeeze and then some that suddenly hold until the reader drips. Fill their bottle with a cuffing concoction, with every verse, they'll take a sip!
Nov 14, 2023
Nov 14, 2023 at 10:31 AM UTC
We’d meet up in the bridge of the night
on Monahan road where no streetlights survived at all,
where your
car would impatiently grumble as
I scurried out of the laundry room window
My bare feet kissed the cold concrete briefly before
I threw myself into the warmth of your old Honda,
attaching my body to yours like it belonged to you
The raccoons would come out to greet us because they
heard the sheer ripping of my cotton dress
into pieces between your palms and the rough grip of flesh which
held my flexing neck
Pearls of sweat accumulated once
I tore the shirt off of your back
My loving lips bit by your tough teeth and
I crumbled into your mouth like warm cake,
cuffing your face to the
irresistible urge to lick the plate
clean
windows once were the last moment I noticed but,
you dug your nails into my muscles like I deserved it
across the foggy surface of my skin as if we were lions leaving
chilled bumps and the marks of midnight
scarred in my mind for a minute
Fluttering lids lick this fleeting daydream
that I can’t seem to catch with
my bare authentic hands
Hands no longer tan,
Nor connected to the center
of your plans
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 4:01 PM UTC
cuffing season...
Cuffing Season is upon us
like that drunk homeless guy on a bus
like we need a whole 6 months dedicated to lust I mean a few relationships might last but the majority go bust
I sound bitter as all **** but I don't give a **** I guess me and love haven't really gotten along like a pit bull and a dove
or a magician without a glove
Me and love have a bipolar fixation no matter what my or its situation
no rest for the wicked or the weary it seems,
I mean I don't mind being single but **** it if I didn't Think cupid was being pretty mean it seems he has a thing for teaching you the hard way it's like he purposely Keeps his arrows away in Aphrodite's purse and she takes it personally
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
*oi! Bronson! **** ya matey! i'm a sardine oiled up! that paddy is gonna hang like a dog on a serpentine of a leash's worth of walkies... that paddy's gonna hang and ask for the relay gun at the Olympics going off... paddy was never the bricklayer... paddy always gangrene flex, got lucky in Arizona and New York, forked St. Petersburg and only forked a steak nibble... Bronson settled into retirement just fine, came out a ******* act-tor! pepper the bobby with parking meter fines for his bureaucratic funfair study... sooner or later Jimmy the literate will turn up, and replace Bob the illiterate swine cuffing someone ******* in an alley.*
oh, i'd probably become
an english teacher
and sing fuck-yeah
when the drone army of
Amazon couriers fed us
the next 21 hour trip in
defence against the Koran...
so i guess ha ha is in order.
and with every mythical Mrs.,
you tell 'em about the castration
in the synagogue, and never about the
baritone in the morgue.
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
Resistant breathing, and salt and pepper vision.
Ascetic feelings, and sweltering skin.
It's the feeling like everyones watching
It's the feeling like you are alone.
Scars fading, I need more. I need more.
Shrieking and screeching and squealing and squawking.
Cuffing and clobbering and clouting and clipping.
Suffocating like a bag over my face, like I was being immersed into the cavernous ponds.
Ponds that sit lazily, and frogs that croak loudly.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 12:18 PM UTC
Another dab of red on her lip
A final spray of fragrance
Baubles cuffing her dainty wrists
And a spring in her step
She steps out and steps into the car
Their eyes meet, a sparkle across one of her 32
He nods with a giggle, "Finally, the day has arrived..."
Zestful fingers turn the key, the engine revs up
And like always, she completes his sentence
With a bright one across her face
"Yes, the day we set each other free."
And together they burst
While little Macy and Phillip
Make promises, young in love
From afar, below the cliff,
They see light shine so bright, like fire burst
And perhaps, they were only firecrackers
Thinks Phillip, his innocent mind
Unable to tell a blast from a burst
But Macy knows, for she caused the brakes to fail
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
i govern an idling heart
doomingly glazey
won't lift a care but won't swat no fly either
maintains functional with the safety hitched on
observes the public goings and fro-ings
without discrimination
but offers no service
no aid
and no addition
docile and folded and dormant of view
in a world-scape kniving to be brighter
more memorable and avidly self dominant
i am a skiving witness
the older i get the more this approach
is not an easy one
i observe a neighbour bully about his kids
using jest rewards between shouting them to heel
and cuffing them violent
i observe a lady place her friend
with a simple remark
('i like your choker.. it's like something i wore as a child
it's nice to remember that')
i observe war retread on the screen
i observe a couple secretly kiss and brush fingers.
human spoil seen now ;
it draws pity, pain and longing
i am not devoid
despite much practice
some involvement on my part
may be due
Mar 23, 2022
Mar 23, 2022 at 6:10 PM UTC
she scribbles down her name along the bed post,
she said seven more, seven more ill be a ghost,
these words teeming with frustration over loaded seas of the coast,
its my arms, they bare.
ive be chasing and trusting
not that its lacing or cuffing
because formal etiquette wouldnt stare
its that she left everything she had
everything
just so I'd
care
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
don't bother to hold me hair.
and ****** why do I feel the need to lock you out,
I don't want to have to share.
I don't.
I have carried you on my back,
trying to help you,
and now I am empty and I can't focus on your pain
like you want me to,
I'm empty and I feel the harsh brush of bitterness climbing up my throat,
to form the acid on my tongue,
and I bite it back,
but my insides rage war,
And I love you.
we've been through,
death,
divorce,
****
***
Sarah,
but I'm...
barely breathing,
and I'm not sure you're seeing me anymore,
this breath is waning and I can't focus on you,
any more
or maybe it's so hard to past the news feeds of your life,
I resent that I have to ask you, to care about me,
I thought you know me,
but maybe you know the "me",
I used to be.
and can I just say whats on my heart,
I wish I didn't have to teach you how to love me,
you get me on so many many levels,
but jump back to the basics,
I dont want to be the supply and demand of my own needs,
You say you've never felt more closer but I'm not sure if you know I breathe.
I want more from you then this, how many times have a put your needs before mine,
And I can't do it this time,
and find love,
in life's leeches,
thinking I'd be the cure,
and have sat and rage war beside you,
but my insides hide,
you're hurting me cuffing my wrist chaffing this heart
and I'd burn this if it didn't help the bleeding of my heart
i'm sorry all I want is for you to be
happy but all i see is the water now that surrounds me,
I jumped in to save you,
but I have,
and I didn't save a vest for me.
were just drowning together no one better off then before,
but i no longer want to commiserate together, though I'm in love with the storm.
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 7:01 PM UTC
With nary a thought to pose or process
With scary, a way of thinking
I am someone, or the type who, tends to do certain things in a certain way
But what is it worth if it does not read well?
Or to call someone who sounds like yourself and the ensuing contrast of awkwardness
**** n' **** luck or gettin' lucky in any way colloquial terms for coitus or *** in general, I've none which is not to say I've not in the past or won't in the future but right now there is no significant two-way companionship which I really do want for a variety of reasons to be.
To simply, with cliche, be.
No such comfort will exist in my life for longer than a comparably short while, it would seem. Nope, no happiness for me, only discomfort, depression, and stress.
No such great is a thing as a two-person love and experience.
And I am alone, truly.
And I am alone, more truly than my peers or fellow poets or parents or family or any other being sharing a universal genus or scientific similarity.
You know nothing of insanity so stop spouting and spewing this beautiful word and defaming and relegating it to a common "lol" or emoticon or any other thing that is obviously below it.
Standard crusted creation of melting erasure dissolving dissipation and dead-eyed cuffing stuffs stuffing still with tough metal roughs of through-bred thoroughly fed fattened and read something a little like this - DISGUSTING MUSK-SCENTED RUSTING HORMONE RIDDEN DERISION OF A TEENAGE HUMAN ****
Operated in an operation inside of an operation on a mechani-borg.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
As cold as another age, wracked with solitude,
A slow start to another beginning,
Unreliable cloud coats the sky
And the sea repetitiously roars in,
Cuffing cliffs,
Pounding rocks
With calamitous roars
Playing endless riffs across the sand.
We walked together down the beach
Troubled by the surf
Chewing on cigarette stubs, sullied by the wind
New ghosts in the half-light
Bearing years like backpacks.
Grown old in the gathering twilight
We chattered together, our footsteps picking
Wounds. Barbed words
Like greetings, cheerfulness like an accusation.
*********** a shared and interesting memory,
We cuddled together in the scouring wind
Enjoying each other’s casual warmth.
It was a time for reflection,
When love is a scab on evolving friendship,
Heartlessness the price of redemption.
The contrived book of your beauty,
The gilded ceramic of expertly rendered features
The undulating film of your gestures, coded and decoded
Through time.
Beauty is finite, crumbling to fleshless reminiscence
Fixed to canvas and celluloid
With tireless labour. In the end, signifying another thing-
Of little interest.
An artist’s casual thought, a director’s cut.
They barely remember your name,
Your laughter and wildness gone, missed by the
Senile artist’s transitory brush,
Clotted with hundred-year-old varnish.
A small house by the sea
Surrounded by flowerbeds sparkling with summer colour
Self-absorbed children, with whom we exchanged affection
And parted from, holidaying in Bangkok
With lovers of all sorts.
As the sea rolled towards us
And evening gave way to night.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
making do with what we had, we rolled dank ****
into receipts from the bar.
For once, I wasn't worried about getting
caught smoking in a bus shelter.
I fixated on the cheap shots of tequila
and this paper joint
and heckling overdressed blondes
on a Sunday night in
November.
**** "cuffing" -- latching onto a person for warmth and
intimacy as it rolls into December.
For now, I'll stand against this graffiti wall while those
closest to me take ****** iPhone pictures of me
covering my face.
For now, I'll walk up Bathurst
and discuss whether or not beards are a dealbreaker.
I'm picture-locking every look,
every turn
and sound
One day I hope one of my closest
calls and says:
"Remember that night when time stretched out?
Our three sets of footprints cemented a time when we were
in our bodies
and not in our heads."
We left our heads on Queen Street that Sunday.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
Tonight I want you to model.
More power to you if you think im refering to silk or lace.
Not at all in bad taste but tonight it'll just be a waste of time,
Watching you slip into something sexy knowing that its coming right back off.
Don't think me silly as its essential that you know.
Anticipating watching you put your mouth on it.
Pretending that your not selfishly waiting your turn,
Thats cool, you can admit it
Because in that same token i love watching you swarm around the sheets, reaching as if your soul is about to leave your body.
The wetness that erupts feeling your legs clench around my head.
A Dead give away that your about to run.
Twisting and turning knowing **** well that I refuse to let you go.
Face deep eyeing you fron bellow, watching you lose your breath looking down at me whispering stop stop
Just before your body locks up again and you lose control of your leg.
Its never that easy.
Plotting just what time,
Remembering all the **** you've talked.
Flipping you over, cuffing your hips.
Sliding into ultimate bliss.
Tonight,
I want you to be a model.
But none of that fancy lingerie.
No perfume rubbed against the sides of your neck, between your ******* Or even beneath your bellybutton.
Tonight,
I want you to wear me
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
i dreamed of being amongst
tall, ornate
cherry blossom trees,
and they were all wise
they reached high into
indigo-colored skies
capitulum crowning space, tasting
cool air
when the wind came
they spoke to me
and i listened
-i still listen-
but miss miss miss the vision
...
there is this one
c blossom
2,000 feet tall, prolly
that was not only wise but
silly and fun too,
and she drew me
drew me
into her,
her roots
curled over my feet
her petals snowed
on to my fevered lips
giving me 10,000 sensations
-senses-
I never knew
existed before
but, ya know,
"things happen"
and whatever
la la la la cliche **** me now
plz
vision blinks shut
rub eyes now
cuff of Do
cuffing your you w I
comes to be
whom whom are you are you?
climb down
into world
nine now
five soon
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
Please forsake me for I have sinned,
Singe'd the rustic metal with sterile flame,
Blood burnt off the edge,while iron waft the air
In my right hand holds danger, in my left nothing
Nothing but the sadness in what I see,
Metal to slice, forever marking me...
Blood trails run down my wicked wrist
Slowly moving..... The everlasting drip
Deathening feels fatally turn me pale
Pestering me to return my scale,.....
Set me apart from the rest,...
They judge me not for me
But for what I've become
Beseech thee as I make my cup
Cuffing my leg to a chain and ball,
As I huff either, the everlasting high,
Hurting me, only to mess with me
Melting my kidney, kindling the fumes that
Set me apart from the rest,...
Lift me like love lifts life,
Leave me behind in this past to which I write,
Repeat your ways which welp you
Yell at me for I have done you wrong
Writhe the dividend to which I owe
Give me love, give me life
Leave me behind so that I kindle my time
Tell me I'm not bliss,
I forever hold my dagger with a sharp grip,
Give me power, give me strength
Stealthfully **** the hype,
hypocrisy heathes these hollow halls,
Set me apart from the rest,...
Watch as I cut these lines,
White as snow, it overloads the mind
Mind the razor ripping apart the rocks,
For blood shows when blood clots,
Cliche to say but those lines had been cut,
With that precious liquid gold...... Either.....
It burns, the feeling ever so old......
Judge me not for the bad I have done
Look at me in that finer light.....
Set me apart from the rest,...
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
This century is of the cash and capital,
Its captains are collectors of credits,
Their collaborators are culprits,
This century is circumventing my calmness,
Its clauses are cuffing me,
Their conditions are confining me,
This century is a cruel calamity,
Its covenants are costing me my composure,
Their claws are creeping in on me.
My confidence is collapsing,
My clarity is crippled,
My consciousness is ceasing.
This century is carving out my carnage.
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 2:15 AM UTC