"dimed" poems
Time to be in Tune with my own Best Dad
Much would it take to cause Celebration
Sermons apart, yet Insights I just had
Took me some Yards taped for Inspiration
Rarely such Species can just Understand
The Skirted *** most Males eliminate
Still most Sires force their Sons on Demand
To spout their Seeds for Pride to propagate
If you can recall those Sales-Slips within
How Footed and Devote your Presence was
Tri-Dimed Corporate; Or Sea-Tigers therein
Is just the Greeting Card I'll Love at last.
Senior come hither; In Prime Deposit
Father my Mentor; In Wisdom ask it.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
Genious, that Borrowed Word I will Subscribe
From the Land of Prayer, thanks be to you
With this Device my Social Tracker bide
To stomp Hypocrisy for Friends so True
Yet in Earnings for my Dimed Attitude
This Child did more than just create
Is to be True myself; And pursue the Good
Past Stunning Hassles our Frustrations relate
Must I consider to promote to Prime
If only Assets my Wallet can fill
At least I return the Favour in Kind
And try to maintain my Loyalty still.
Now with that done, our Voices carry on
My Heart uplift; Though Feelings weigh a Ton.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
I saw the devil lips she kissed,
Too bad it's mine she missed.
Sometimes it comes like the morning mist
or forever, it seems, time will tick.
Love is blind, or so they say,
When it calls it's by some delay.
Mostly it stays far away,
Even if tomorrow's an all new day.
I saw the fiery hand she touched,
With him she gets some luck.
Down the road, she finds its muck,
For she's in too deep to be unstuck.
She thought my tired hands didn't mind,
To hold and only to be too kind.
But, now, I'm not so inclined
To stand by and be nickel and dimed.
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 4:29 AM UTC
North cornered near the glass ain't gonna' last
Cause the money is running out
It's running out fast
Nickel and dimed' burning money burning pride
With the liquor stores all closing and mother mary praying whispering
"Sarah, sarah, sarah..."
No names in these streets empty touched' defeat
The meat is getting angrier surlier burlier
The heat is getting heavier breathier and touchier
Blankets burn in the Connecticut sun mother mouths something
But I can't make it out
With these posters on these white walls falling for their own droll
Committed to the picnic that is not life at all
Putrid in these notes that sail through the air never fail
With the heart that once was held
By a women that I thought I'd take the time to know
But then the winds came with the side ways rain
All that pain that I couldn't bare or understand to stay
There was the window washing maniacs pinching pennies
Letting go of their soul for another side dish and entree of dough
Ploughing through their TV screens which falls through their skin like
Love used to do but in the blue hue there was nothing
They could bear to do
Bear man breaks open the skin flecked electro heart machine
Shocking every last one of us past the point of divinity
Already through the heart and mind and limb of man
Into the skin and the blood and the beating eye lids
Of a brother I never had, that man named CID
Jesus named me no name so I wander wherever my feet may carry
Never had no religion only long lesions through the seasons
Cut wound bleed break breakfast dinner bird
There was a glint in the sun
The way she gripped and held Her sword
Graining through pages of past history ***********
Seeing visions of kaleidoscope faker ***** with their blisters
Gripping their panoramic sisters
Beauty in the eye of the hair that twists
In the mid-west chilling winds of the whisp
Forests burning boringly gripping the last hope of
Mother murdering herself just to stay alive
In a stride of elegance tides of benevolence
Roaring rewind curb side b-lines
And a mix-tape that spins and spins and spins
But plays nothing
No nothing
At all
May 16, 2011
May 16, 2011 at 8:25 PM UTC
I struggle now and then,
Forgetful as I've become,
The colors of my life,
Certainly now have dimed,
All the faces less seen and recalled.
I actually forgot,
My Mother’s name the other day,
Or was it several weeks ago?
Way back I was told,
I had a Photographic Memory,
A useful tool to have.
The go to guy for remembrances’,
I could really put on a show.
Those color images are now,
Mostly Black and White,
Or faded to a sterile blank,
Featureless as an empty,
Solid, all grey wall.
Alzheimer’s the Doctors say,
Creeping in to stay,
Stealing my very soul away,
Until there is nothing left,
But a useless empty shell.
Without my soul of memories
Why would I even want to live?
A thing I really must consider,
While still I can recall.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
Thoughts.. You've been nickled and dimed...hassled and crimed...robbed at point blank range...Me too. us The 30 an under...No magic card given by Tom Joyner...We missed out on Odell's, And now get the Owells...institution tuition...constitution divison...We reap what was sown, by the rich and the grown...And given the jobs that our kids should own...Whats 13 dollars when rent is 8 bills...whats flat land when all we got is hills...Nickled and dimed...and their crying for themselevs...greedy money suckers with library shelves..Im you with jingles and bells..protest and yells..that nobody hears..but everybody fears..quaterly robbed...nickled and dimed...as if it was ok to be hassled and crimed..#weinthistogether
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 10:06 AM UTC
thy ice by fire mine melts
to a blaze ye and I ignite
mine soul on fire is
as truth in lies may freeze
lies with truth is firestorm
Well ye left me behind lit
at glory's blaze afire
as for me ye did freeze
and mine fire dimed down
at your departure's grief
Aries in April's daisy
t'was fire mine abirthday gift
of special blaze a trail
the Ice of thee afire I defrost
melting thine frozen heart
with grace of truth in poem
steamming thee
to meet again
as one afire
BLAZE
-~~~~~~~~
By Karijinbba
Inspired by Robert Frost.
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 2:08 PM UTC
Fill up these hollow eyes...
These two dry sockets, sitting cold like marbles in a divot.
Pour into them.
Look past the shallow pool,
and dive deep into the blackness.
See what I see...
Sink into my vision...
Floating, if just for a moment.
Dead weight,
with arms wide open.
Fill up these hollow eyes,
with penny thoughts and nickel dimed emotions.
Weave the string, and pull me closer.
Entice me.
Tease me.
Tickle my fancy.
Make me chockfull, to the brim.
Then spill me over.
Fill up these hollow eyes,
they **** you in like bathroom drain pipes.
Keeping up the appearances...
watch how they move.
Like the lolling head of a sleeping toddler,
no focus.
Their out of focus.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC
It was a bleak and dismal Sunday morning, as I baked for the sake of baking. My head was bowed as I sliced apples when suddenly, everything within me started aching. I decided to take a brief recess and rest in my reclining chair.
As I gazed out through my windowpane, I observed that rain was there. It dripped and dropped onto the dense grass, and such a beautiful sight it was. As I continued to gaze, I noticed a faint, human-like figure in the shadows of the trees. At that moment, reason had abruptly gone, and curiosity had jurisdiction.
I found myself leaving the comfort of my chair, walking into the grove. When the rain caressed my wrinkled skin, I then began to roam. I could hear vague, ghost-like murmurs surrounding me; the predicament that I was in then began confounding me.
As time progressed, my visual perception dimed, and as it dimmed, the murmurs became more prominent. I listened to the murmurs repeatedly asserting "your end is right in front of thee." I didn't understand nor had a clue. My fearfulness only grew.
And then out of the blue, I collided with what I assumed was a tree, until I heard a rather stout, raspy, sinister-natured "hello." And instantaneously I registered what the murmurs had revealed to me. My end was unquestionably in front of me.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 4:33 PM UTC
So we get needled,
nickle and dimed
all of the time,
people chinking away
at our armor.
Wanting to scream
at the top of our longs
to **** off,
but instead acting
prim and proper,
a residual of the Vanderbilt
school of etiquette,
******** political correctness
ruining the spirit.
Can you hear it,
see the blight,
the lack of courage
all over this land?
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC
All of these human can be nothing but be basic and face it
It's tracing the lines of the facade that's been spliced hundreds of strides and on mauve colors lines placed then
Retraced to the grid full of masterfully hid fingers stagnant and bent tripping placid and flaccid like ***** that are emaciated and crypt ****** and splattered like pavement placed upon pickled waves strafed across walled like cinder blocks half way through baking
Entombed youth encased in the catwalk of toxins
Ensuing and spewing no lines not concrete times and dimed up in baggy a sporadically creased into godsends.
There is no god in the streets he's illegal and should have bend the taxes been spread towards all the youth it's intwined threads. The volumous illusion of writing. Put into cursive this is not my writing ******* stop hacking my account you credophile.
The only way to live is the high life.
It is thing overcoming the tops of woven rugs covered so that beneath there's a heap of root vegetation growth so deep seeded it grows in the sand it is mired in. Below the seep of the sin it's been trampled in. These horses don't have legs. Just ***** To just braid yourself in them.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
I saw your shadow,
Through the curtain of your window.
Every night,
when I back to my room,
dimed the light very soon.
To see you in front of light,
I hold my heart for a gentle air-
to discover how you appear.
But all my wish fall apart.
Whatever,
even red rose also has black shadow.
Whenever she had her blossom desire.
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
What love that burns so deep
the light that flares a thousand miles
of caves so dark the world above is lost
to that which it once was
From plain a heart
that was left to seek another
while left bereft of the hands that held its two halves together
Of where does such sadness live
On what does it survive
When starved and broken
From where does it find its fight
If love was the solider from heaven sent
Why would it allow its two halves to separate
Intertwined the threads of love that remain
Are bold as the ivy that strangles the tree in its embrace
From such intense love comes the most devastating heart break
And in the final hours of the day
The final moments you wish you could forget
They are the friends that hold you back
They are the walls that protect
They are the soldiers that stand and fight
For when the light is dimed and the moon not yet arisen
The in-between that allows the heart to rest
Is the eye of the storm of loves great battle lost.
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 6:44 AM UTC
Time is a winged bird
I can't see but wait
Aurora drops into cloud
Yeaos handless the Pandora.
Alexandria light house hides in dark
Light doesn't ignite.
Nitghtingale crashes her voice
Phoenix ***** her wings.
Dadealous is in conundrum
Hamlet cries in dilemma.
Queen Seba smiles on that event
Helen composes her drama.
The world is in Faustus hands
Monarchy is all around
Loathsome activities are in serum
Hector will never raise his sound.
Dark grasps, we live in it
The celestial lights still exist
Though these are dimed
Oneday, surely, the sun will rise.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 12:16 PM UTC
Halloween time, oh how savvy it is to treat.
Eating candy for sport there no chance for a lose.
Tooth fairy's rumble threw cloud's of sugary fame.
And witches hold brooms and ritual there names.
Carvers came from mountain's a little thing in praise.
Now the moons dimed for a new start of a dawn day.
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 1:29 AM UTC
You throw money at me
People smile and slap my back
Full-ride my boy!
You are set for life
I can't stuff dollar bills in broken vertebrae
Your filthy cash won't balm my burns
Nor wipe away my bullet scars
Your ******* money can't ease my mind
It isn't patchworked convalescence for wicked dreams
I would trade all of the money in the world
I would knock down this castle of pennies
To not be nickeled and dimed
For a quarter of the functionality
That my body once had
Feb 20, 2020
Feb 20, 2020 at 4:34 PM UTC
there’s a forest known with a wicker scent
woven tree line where we caught the snake
pull a full bottle from behind your back
rinse a clean slate and lay it on the track
coal come stain
nickel abstain
THERE AINT DAGGERS AT HOME WHEN iT
MEANS THE SAME
when i lean in vain
build a portal out of garden vines
taken on the precipice of hardened signs
stretched out over our memory seams (seems at rest now)
full bent spine over backlit needs (needs to rest now)
CUZ YOU KNOW i AINT LIVING
i’LL BE WONDERING HOW
entering bow
it leaves
a
compass stage
you take me back into those dimed up days
long at lasst quartered in century delays
give it two best like the nightlight’s dead
lead me to the outlet where i lose my head
dollars and cents
it kinda makes sense
LABOR FOR THAT FEAT WHICH ENDURETH UNTO
everlasting
it leaves
a compass stage
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 4:22 PM UTC
I hear nothing but black and flickers of dimed candles
Shadows and I waltz
For they do not judge me
Of course my demons’
How did I become this deranged
Nothing but black
This bed-linen now
A blushing civil war
It tickles me pink
Or maybe it
Helps me recognize
That my crazy is ******* gorgeous
Yet sickening
Are you happy?
Sun up till sun down
It’s cold now, and so am I
I see you every where
In every thing
In every one
In the tiny wrinkles that rest upon my Antarctic like hands
The car that cut me off this morning
The lumps stuck in my throat when someone asks how you are
The chilly 5 minute walk to my vehicle on the hill
In the empty space that haunts me every night when I close my eyes
It’s cold, but so are you
Am I that easy to escape ones memory?
Brooke Constantino
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 1:11 PM UTC