"dander" poems
I'm slow to the boil and takes a lot to **** me off.
WARNING: Stop reading if you dislike vents.
A truth we all know but WONT discuss IS race relations in America *****
How did it come to all this open bigotry and so many stupid racist comments?
****** shame that my race still don't get that ALL people are created equal.
Maybe other regions get it but not my area with it's tons of racists.
In my area people believe all blacks lie, steal, cheat, live in ghettos,
black is the wrong race and white is always right and superior. BULL!!!
I will never be ignorant and speak ignorance like I hear in my area
"Ship them back to Africa their homeland!"
Wake up! Africa is everybody's motherland!!!
My dander is up because stupid racist bogus flagged a video of a friend.
Not bad enough they call venues so the lady can't get a local gig or they
posted bogus mugshots of convicts on Craigslist faking it was her.....
ATTENTION people from Northern Michigan: YOU PEOPLE NEED TO
RETHINK WHAT YOU THINK AND SAY ABOUT MINORITIES!!!
****** she's proving she doesn't need Northern Michigan to get her music heard?
Calling venue to get her fired and lose jobs didn't stop her from singing.
You can't flag this and to remove like you did on Craigslist.
I stopped posting on Craigslist after all the **** talk about my friend.
She got targeted by ignorant racist assuming ALL black women are like the
Kerry Washington's character on Scandal. Betty's not a bed hopper and
she doesn't ***** around with married men. I can't speak for Kerry Washington.
Betty doesn't speak ghetto talk as my area calls it and she's not like the stereotypes
racist paint all blacks to be. Blew their minds that Betty's a hell of a lot smarter than
them and she's not lazy, ignorant or the N word they love calling blacks.
Fed up with the racism in my area, Northern Michigan and the nation.
****** because anonymous ignorant went to Youtube and flagged my friend
Betty Ponder's new G-rated video for inappropriate content and got it removed.
Inappropriate content my ***
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
In Brooklyn, in these hectic times,
if Mom-hood gets you down
you need a little pick me up
so you won't fret and frown.
When we boomers were just babies
Mom might have a glass of wine.
Just enough to take the edge off
and leave her feeling fine.
But Generation X and Y
are more like Cheech and Chong
when baby gets your dander up
It's time to light a ****
A little **** of Mary Jane
gives Moms a pause to sigh.
"Good night Moon" is a gripping read
when Mom is flying high.
Put the little Prince to bed
before Mom has a fit.
Motherhood is stressful
she just needs to take a "hit"
When the" little terrors" get you down
Just think - "this too will pass"
sneak off and roll yourself a joint
We know you have a stash.
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 7:58 AM UTC
I have migraine headaches quite often.
Stress could be a factor as
I am a fifty-one year old father of three;
a retiree with too many chits, too many broken nest eggs...
Or it could possibly be my diet:
lots of carbohydrates and complex sugars,
mixed well with large quantities of
diet soda and inactivity...
Or perhaps the trouble lies with allergens;
for my life is inundated with pet dander, pollen,
dust, and grass clippings. Add to that
humidity levels and mold blooms -
who wouldn’t be allergic?
Or maybe it’s just a brain tumor.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
Trees hold the deep earth together way below with crooked fingers of the underworld and catches foul above
Upward to the heavens on finger towers,
clapping on winds they shake their dander
And the makers of green bras on mountain tops
They are the landlords of ground,and air beasts, and
incumbent giants of the ages
They whisper being puppeteered by winds of old
They are the alchemists of oxygen
They are dangling playgrounds
They are the Autumn crunches beneath our feet
Trunk etchings by bards, trees reflecting
cultures' dissemination
We walk under penumbras that deny the scorch of summer
as cool water douses fire, so too, shade douses heat
Watching trees in my pleasant reverie I observe how they
help break the carpeted land, bringing about a certain diversity in moving tranquility and rustling of their songs
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 7:20 AM UTC
I remember her distinctly,
she wore green flannel & cargo shorts,
Che cap & a stuck sunflower,
her braids exploded from under it.
She was proud of her antler-handled side knife
& jump boots, traipsed around
like she was on the nature boardwalk,
I heard she stalked Sasquatch once.
That girl was
the consummate outdoors woman,
she knew all about trapping,
skinning & first aid,
could make water
spring from the ground.
Her grin was infectious,
a true aura of love hung
like dander around her,
her sensuality screamed
silently from her twinkling eyes,
the color of azure.
I was with her for one summer,
then I moved out of her sacred-valley.
Every time I look at the stars,
I remember her campfires
& the times we spent
at Moondipper
in each others arms
tasting marshmallows.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
At twilight,
in my deep slumber,
I roused to the rumble of thunder;
with dense showers soaking me tender,
Streaks of light sparkling like cinder,
roaring with dander, down came
*T
H
E*
***B
O
L
T***
that S RUCK my fence.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 4:02 AM UTC
I'm that pretty kitty
Sitting on your windowsill
Leaving dander on the glass
Looking more than my fill
My fur is brown and black
My claws are sharp as knives
My teeth are quite sinister
And I've still all nine lives
You've never paid me much attention
And I ceased attempts to receive it long ago
You go about your day ignoring me
And I stare covetously through the window
I know you can see me
Every blue moon, you'll wave
We actually get along in a way
But not enough to sate all I crave
I wonder if you'll ever notice
My stare is unadulterated jealousy
But you never seem to notice
I also envy that naivety
But I'm just the pretty kitty
Perched up on this windowsill
All I want is to be seen from inside
But no one ever will
I've only eyes for the inside though
I've got my friends on this side of the glass
And they look at me, bemused and disgusted
Because, in all ways and forms, I'm obsessed
But I'm different and I'm on the wrong side
And I'm just the pretty kitty on the windowsill
But I'm not comfortable with my own kind
And with yours, I'm just good for visual appeal
So I'll sit here on this windowsill
Gazing enviously
Because neither side fits me
But it fits them perfectly
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
The FBI chief, Mr. Comey,
was loved by Trump like his best *****
For he went around hintin'
about emails and Clinton,
making Trump fans excited and foamy.
But then Comey provided reflection
upon Trump aides and Russian connection.
Trump did protest and howl,
stamp his feet and cry foul,
for the tide has turned since the election.
Trump thinks Comey is guilty of slander,
though his Hillary probe raised no dander.
So I guess Trump's excuse
is what's good for the goose
simply does not apply to the gander!
So why Donald Trump am I hounding
through this verse and this poetic pounding?
It's Trump's hypocrisy
that so motivates me
and we're used to it!... That's what's astounding!
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 10:42 PM UTC
in the dark honey, the knees of bees and afterthoughts coagulate in burnt gold and warm blood.
the air is made of dander and random. the dog barks a virus you check for fleas. and the north star -
is violent. in the blemish of symmetry, the ruling class of ravens, flock to your discord,
they adorn your wretched gorgeous. they engorge the zenith
of your curse.
javelin happy, the stab behind the eye that sees too deep is delight's dagger !
the imminent ruse of a persistent Truth and an eternal Lie.
the Macbeth in your chicken soup.
and the Soup.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:52 PM UTC
*my house shoes shuffle my gait across linoleum earth
and a thin layer of bisquick and dander. last night's raid
on the larder and this morning's coffee quest, collide
in the long slant shadows of a slow moving star, on the rise
like a yellow souffle with a nuclear heart.
i imagine a vertical carousel, grinding 'round the house
of my muffins and octane. dragging pin lights and globes
over the horizon... marching an infinite parade of other worlds
above my crust of stone and blue oceans, crashing a thousand miles
from my domain... i envision the void on a string of pearls
and deep sea horses galloping 'cross the gap...
i toss sugar into a ceramic misadventure from the state fair
and sip remarkable from the lip
of space. and consume*.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 9:18 AM UTC
it caught the corner
of my eye
Pavlovian neck twist
jarring synapsis
tears followed
was it a ghost
or flickering dust particulate
sent me
crashing into your picture
sitting crisscross
considering memory’s place
longing to touch your finger
soft sunlight played
dog dander and field burn
swirled in the long evening
the radio crackled
long forgotten songs
played on vinyl
once again they fell
Is today your birthday?
Anniversary?
numbers blur
last year’s calendar
still hangs
rectangle wall stain
emotions wipe away
mental images persist
a face through the years
suddenly I stand alone /
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
I miss you.
and the sick satisfaction of adrenaline.
the openness of your pantry
and sensitivity to dander that remains solely to your house.
jovial but once this year
I have exiled myself to other islands
to watch in golden telescopes
some others fill the gaps in which I made
yet I’ll blame you
for my own banishment
I am a prime example
of brains before beauty
putting my heart on the lines of loose leaf
Serotonin production ceased when steam was industrialized
drown me, dopamine
save my friendship
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 4:20 PM UTC
I wonder what this world is coming to
When we have to overcomplicate everything
All I hear on the TV of late
Is ‘bare craic’ as my northern Irish friend would say –
“I can’t understand this credit crunch,” she said
Poignantly, (neither could I) “I think I’ll take
A dander down to the shops.” And so she did
We were out of milk
And living off salami
I picked up the paper
And I realise nothing is without a price
Or a fate
They are the two certainties
So is death
And the price is not so hard to see either.
The American bigwigs sit round a table
Complaining what is to be done about the financial crisis?
Each eating a $16 dollar muffin with their $8.48 coffee
Wondering where oh where can money be saved?
And they’ll get back in their private limos
Drive past their second addresses
Back down to Bel-air
Lock themselves in their villas
Count their bonuses
And sleep happy
After doing jack ****
While Greece is going down the crapper.
I can see the solution
Can you?
Or is it just me?
Or can you see it to?
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
to a dusty shelf I aspire
collected among your beloved works
my spine illegible and creased
pages molded and dog eared
i rest eye level
in your drawing room
i was yours originally
as much as i was my own
no
i was written by a three greats something
a man and a woman
far removed from me now
and was lent to your three greats something
passed down to you
now found cloistered
three shelves down
as per the sensibility
of three greats aunt percy
you would expect the syllables
bound within me
to be replete with ratiocinative reminders
but my binding betrays me not
bloviative bacchanalian blabberings
are the texts contained beyond my cover
but you wouldnt know
the dust proves it
but i dont mind
purely delighted
to be covered in dander
and the skin that used to make you up
that i might be found when you need me
or that i might remain in your family
for at least one more generation
but
if you need a quick ten spot
if youre really hard up for cash
if. you. need. money.
i know a really cute used bookstore
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 12:31 AM UTC
I went to Walmart this morning - yes, it was very brave.
My dander was up - I was on high alert - for active shooters and the unmasked.
Then I saw him! A man on the cookie aisle - he looked like he had the monkeypox!
So I kicked him in the nuts and ran - you can’t be too careful out there.
It turns out that he was just an 80-year-old retiree wearing a polka-dot shirt.
I apologized - from a safe distance - as the paramedics carted him away.
It felt like a close call.
May 25, 2022
May 25, 2022 at 10:10 AM UTC
I've starting speaking
To the walls again--
They tell me everything and nothing.
As I lose echoes decorating
Dander-lions with leaves.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
The grey cloud of despair is almost propelled from thought when The rust, dust, dirt, and grim your senses encounter, and endure near to0 much to bare.
The ******* rubble, debris, detritus, and derelicts are littered about. The smell of **** permeates the air.
Any liquid is soaked up from the unholy union of dirt, mud, dust, dander, and whatever else.
I spill my waste on the ground after revealing myself in the cannikin. The vile fluid is soaked up by the soot of decaying society along side a beautiful section of nature and architecture.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 6:24 AM UTC
Yellow plums with sweet
flesh and sour skin
bleed down chins and smell
of summer swims and sneezes.
Once upon a time, a girl.
The grass seed and tree pollen
and dust and pet dander
and prickly pinecones and banjo strings
and the transition between analog and synthetic,
between automatic and didactic.
Ears perk like dogs at impossible pitches
upon a hidden harmony, missed melodic movement
she stops mid-sentence to hear, listen not hear, listen
for the sounds buried under sounds
and other sounds
and tape distortion
and old speakers
and ambient noise
and the head voices
and the wind in the leaves.
Candle flames hiss on extinguishing breaths
sighing promises for future dividends
dancing in circles on hardwood floors
skirt breezes
hip shakes until it's too much
floor shakes until it's all fallen
borrowing thumbtacks and bringing it all
bringing it all down.
Far in the distance I can hear the bells tolling, ringing not tolling, ringing
in time with the sunrise blinking, winking
sharing a knowing promise for a better day tomorrow,
today not tomorrow, today.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
All sleeping, Ignorance reaping:
The few, trust their own reasoning,
Their own skill, their our perception,
Good will, forsaken honesty; always has a bad reception.
All sleeping, Ignorance reaping:
The few, trust their own reasoning,
Think layers of lies and deception,
Yet one must deceive self first, before entering misconceptions,
Abysses, crevices, all live for slander,
No dept, yet stuck in a hole: happily they dander,
Are we humans or still Netherlanders?
In our evil world:
None take responsibility, all "innocent" bystanders?
At this level, is there anything more?
Ask questions, don't seek the answers, wait there's more:
All sleeping, Ignorance reaping:
Who are we awakening, for whom are we weeping?
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
She plucked his fingernails
gently out,
he loves me,
He
loves
me
not..
The pollen of love filtered from
everyone discarded..
Pulses raised with
each one
harvested.
The dander was sodden,
but still she needed to
know..
Does he love me, does he not...
And after every petal was gently
discarded,
You thought that the only way
to no was to cut the stem..
Looking to his surroundings,
a jar of nails...
How many had been planted here
before..
Like a daffodil popping off,
she was out cold..
He'd been like a seed floating in the air,
what some would catch to place a wish.
his was to land upon her jaw.
He fell,
the roots that bonded him fallen.
And he ran out in to the wilderness.
Floating in and out of consciousness,
but he was free..
Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 6:01 PM UTC
They say a thought is what kills people. Not the gun.
My words are like bullets.
With every hot word spewing from my mouth
like bullets flying out of the barrel with quick grasps of the trigger
And with each bullet a deeper hole burns in my mind.
I run out of words .
like the end of the clip in the gun
15 bullet wounds to the head
Steaming in my mind.
With burning rage
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 4:32 PM UTC
dollops of dander
mighty mousers meander—
cats with cattitude
© 2020 Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 2:00 PM UTC
Retreating from
weighty day of toil
I settle my slack
on tailored sprawl of lawn
Compressed soil radiating ;
tapped battery
of a day's warmth
Life is raised through my cartridge
I stretch out
receiving reptile charge
Aimed shyly
at the expansive dark bedding of night sky
speckled
pierced
pecked at with pinholes...
each emitting brilliance
firing out fuel
exhaust from further worlds
less adulterated than our own
There is a correspondence
amongst the insects in the grass
ticking, clicks and tats
like static amongst laundry
There's a great correspondence out there
in the night sky
here am
invulnerable human
suburban and secure
belly...
a cross draft
from the open basement window
invades me
eggy sulphur burping from the drains
an organic degassing from below my house
: Betrayed !
my feeling passes
the stars behave stagnant
and dismissive of me
; withholding glove oblivion ;
the clouds step in
like a quick curtain
over some 'lewd private show'
(must I pay more
to see more ?)
My world is kept restrictive
; a muzzling
I bare the weight still
of the days wetter ill
Better off indoors
filtered
of my own dander
and projected upon
by a feeding screen
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 1:05 AM UTC
Everyday you profess
That despite all the mess
I look nothing less and
That you love me so dearly
But often I find
That your actions are blind,
Your words out of rhyme,
And it leaves my heart heavy
So i do want to know
You, in answer, should show
How far will it go
How far will your love take me
Will it warm me in winter?
Take me to a dander
In the fields, while you whisper
Again and again that you love me?
Will it lead me out west
A new, thrilling quest
As you lie on my breast
And sing a melody?
And if i took my own life
By noose or by knife
Will i see in the afterlife whether
Your words were spoken truly?
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC