"duff" poems
Memory is a beautiful thing.
Those warm summer mornings sitting on the front porch.
Jumping on Colton's trampoline in a frilled baby pink tu-tu.
Little white bows in my golden curls as I bounce,
grinning so wide,
in the rays of the Texas sun.
Trips to the lake in our old boat.
The water warm and glittering, calling me for a swim.
Tubing behind the Seaswirl with my baby brother,
giggling like little kids do.
My old cowgirl costume for Halloween.
Running from door to door with an old ragged filled pillowcase in hand.
Singing Hilary Duff in my 5th grade talent show.
Nervously shaking as I watch the smiling crowd in front of me.
My first crush sitting next to me in math class,
Mrs. Woo telling me to stop daydreaming.
Green eyes that stare back into mine, laughing, moving in front of me.
Adventures in Burbank with Megan.
Laughing so hard we fall to the sidewalk in front of a full Mexican restaurant.
My first boyfriend kissing me under an oak tree,
in McCambridge Park at sunset.
Here I sit now.
At my washed out desk in a new dorm,
in college.
My life will keep moving on,
and I have all these beautiful memories to fill it with.
My own personal home videos to dance through my head,
as I think,
as I dream,
as I film more to think back on in ten years.
Life is too beautiful to waste.
I thank God that I have been so blessed to be living.
Loving, laughing, singing, dancing, smiling
and holding on to this free spirit that possesses me and moves me.
Someday life will be but a wonderful memory.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 4:03 PM UTC
BEAUTY
So maybe it was okay to joke about it,
Laugh about how we'll work hard, be successful,
And get plastic surgery,
But deep down it still hurts.
So we rampage through the first aid kit for drugs to get us high on self esteem,
We compare ourselves to the main chick,
complain about how we are the duff and the side chick.
They say the grass is greener on the other side,
So why keep looking at the main house?
When all you need is in your own home.
Cause they may not think we are pretty
They may place us after that girl
To them we might be the 'oh yeah you are pretty too'
But its okay.
We've been through enough pain already
And pretty hurts so we'll rather be beautiful.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
Fractured Fairytales, Part Two,
A sordid little tale for you.......
Stranger Danger!
Stranger Danger!
Lil' Red Riding Hood,
Alone in the woods,
Stranger Danger!
Stranger Danger!
Who is this stranger?
It's the Park Ranger!
Is he up to no good?
Prowling around in the woods?
Stranger Danger!
Stranger Danger!
Lil' Red Riding Hood,
Alone in the woods,
He's thrown away her phone,
Now Lil' Hood is not alone,
Now he's up to good,
Bad news for Lil' Red Riding Hood,
Stranger Danger!
Stranger Danger!
Bad Park Ranger!
Stranger Danger!
He's turned her into a ****
Now he's got her up the duff,
Stranger Danger!
Bad Park Ranger!
Now she's a single mother,
Should have had a better mother,
Letting her walk alone in the woods,
Bad handsome Park Ranger,
Stranger Danger!
Stranger Danger!
A sordid little verse for you,
That was Fractured Fairytales, Part Two.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
This is for the homies,
For the ones that have been through it all.
for the ones that have been here for so long.
For the ones that will share their ball.
The ones that will hit the ****
For the ones that I can call,
any day and any time.
For the ones that are tall
and the ones that are small.
And for the ones that one day will be king.
For the ones that can't sing, and the ones that can.
For all the memories we had,
not a single one of them bad.
Our friendship was hopefully not a fad,
cause then I would be sad.
Good-byes are hard,
Good-byes do ****
They can leave you scarred,
but won't with any luck.
I will miss all of you,
and cannot say it enough.
On the day I leave the only sound will be a sad bird's coo.
if only there was time to drink some Duff.
That is all I can think of, and it is all true. I will miss you all and hope to see you all again. Don't forget to keep funkin' for fun. Until we meet again homies, remember that I love you all and hope you will always be happy. That there will be no more problems and no more regrets. Keep a smile on your face and don't let anything keep you down. Good-bye Homies, hopefully not forever.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 4:41 PM UTC
"Tout aux tavernes et aux filles."
Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack?
Or fake the broads? or fig a nag?
Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack?
Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?
Suppose you duff? or nose and lag?
Or get the straight, and land your ***
How do you melt the multy swag?
***** and the blowens cop the lot.
Fiddle, or fence, or mace, or mack;
Or moskeneer, or flash the drag;
Dead-lurk a crib, or do a crack;
Pad with a slang, or chuck a ***
Bonnet, or tout, or mump and gag;
Rattle the tats, or mark the spot;
You can not bank a single stag;
***** and the blowens cop the lot.
Suppose you try a different tack,
And on the square you flash your flag?
At penny-a-lining make your whack,
Or with the mummers mug and gag?
For nix, for nix the dibbs you bag!
At any graft, no matter what,
Your merry goblins soon stravag:
***** and the blowens cop the lot.
THE MORAL
It's up the spout and Charley Wag
With wipes and tickers and what not.
Until the squeezer nips your scrag,
***** and the blowens cop the lot.
2.6k
Remnants
of a plastic world
haphazardly dropped
in the duff of pinecones and bracken
litter this redwood path.
Our thoughtless leavings -
shiny mylar strings
and red straws -
must sadden the bluejays
watching from hidden branches.
Oct 24, 2011
Oct 24, 2011 at 10:53 AM UTC
I tried not to look at it,
But I couldn't help myself,
The blue sky burying me completely,
The sun shedding visibility
On the edible chanterelles--
Little fungi, little mold spores
Treated as food, soft and porous
Sponges, fragile like egg shells.
We hunt for the orange gleam
Showing through the duff
As if we are savages,
Lost in our search,
Forgetting our state.
I'd forgotten what a sight they were:
Unfunny clowns always having
Arguments over who gets what space--
Quality family time.
Every home is a miniature dictatorship.
Now, savages rule our thoughts
And actions; they fight
For control; they
Pump Estrogen into our
System so that we
Will not fight back.
The dream is not a dream.
The Police are a privilege
For those who can buy it.
All this was a week after
The dust settled. There was no music.
Even the chants of Buddhists
Were silenced, the replacing hum
One of screams
And gunshots.
The sound of
Your enemies being sautéed
Is what loss truly is:
Accounts holding our Humanity
Have been depleted.
The only unclosed door
Leads to Egypt.
When I think of it now,
What I remember is
Debt. Once, I saw
A college student
Buying cheap ramen
With a grin.
And, in a dream once,
There was no sound,
No color. Everything
Was the same—taste,
Touch, smell. Red lipstick marks
On a shirt would not
Remain. And hippies,
With their tie-dye clothes
Were just working stiffs,
Looking out a window
To see
Brick and mortar.
They say,
“This is your police state.
This is your Haunted House,
Your personal Winchester House
With no exits. This is
Your nightmare,
Your stench.
These are your maggots in your eyes.
This is what you want.”
We listen.
I do not want to be
The kind of person
Who makes it okay
To want to die.
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 6:48 PM UTC
Saddle and ride, I heard a man say,
Out of Ben Bulben and Knocknarea,
What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?
All those tragic characters ride
But turn from Rosses' crawling tide,
The meet's upon the mountain-side.
A slow low note and an iron bell.
What brought them there so far from their home.
Cuchulain that fought night long with the foam,
What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?
Niamh that rode on it; lad and lass
That sat so still and played at the chess?
What but heroic wantonness?
A slow low note and an iron bell.
Aleel, his Countess; Hanrahan
That seemed but a wild wenching man;
What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?
And all alone comes riding there
The King that could make his people stare,
Because he had feathers instead of hair.
A slow low note and an iron bell.
Tune by Arthur Duff
1.8k
Jeremy Duff woke up as he usually does on a Tuesday morning.
With the alarm clock blaring he lifted his right arm from off his wife's chest.
He stood up, covered his wife's bare torso with the purple, fuzzy, comforter and walked to the bathroom, naked.
He turned on the sink so hot water would begin to pour out.
After completing his usual morning routine of shaving, dressing, smoking, and eating, respectively, Jeremy began his walk to work.
It was, on a typical day, and this was a typical day, a twelve minute walk.
He lit a cigarette the moment his feet hit the sidewalk. It was the first of, on a typical day, thirty-eight.
Jeremy worked on the 27th floor, which he thought of as funny as he pressed the "27" button, as he did on any typical day. His job was to edit spelling on essays before they would be turned in for final inspection. Then, as his boss put it, if the writers were lucky, they would see the essays in the next issue of Story Magazine.
He sat down in his office, lit his third cigarette of the day, and looked at the large stack of papers in front of him. If he was lucky, Jeremy thought, he could get halfway through the stack and take his 10 early, to see his wife. The first one on the stack was entitled "The Young Folks." It had a blue sticky note on it reading "Vignette, Salinger, Jerome David, 1,794 words."
Jeremy read it, purely aesthetically, looking only for spelling mistakes. Finding none, he put a quick check on the blue sticky note. Mr. Duff lit his 5th cigarette and read the story again. It was phenomenal. He read it a third time, while smoking his 6th cigarette. Jeremy finished the first half of the stack and lit his 9th cigarette. He grabbed the story by Salinger and began his walk home. His wife greeted him at the door with kisses. He showed her the story. She read it, read it again and told him it was great. She just didn't understand, Mr. Duff thought.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 8:24 PM UTC
Weathered flesh tightens tenderly in ever-expanding fibers
like an anatomical snuffbox.
The perspiring philtrum of a flew
is carved quickly but more desperate than a slice of kerf.
Uncoiled youth cissing uneven pigmentation
has been slaughtered like fall duff.
Yet she rejoices, snood and all,
To the tap, tap, tap
Of little dingbats.
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 12:10 PM UTC
Earthbound,
and yet I now fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that no sound
echoing by
below where the mountains are lifting
the sky
can be heard.
Like a bird,
but not meek,
like a hawk from a distance regarding its prey,
I will shriek,
not a word,
but a screech,
and my terrible clamor will turn them to clay—
the sheep,
the earthbound.
***
Tashunka Witko of the Lakota Sioux, better known as Crazy Horse, had a vision of a red-tailed hawk at Sylvan Lake, South Dakota. In his vision he saw himself riding a spirit horse, flying through a storm, as the hawk flew above him, shrieking. When he awoke, a red-tailed hawk was perched near his horse.
Published by American Indian Pride and Boston Poetry Magazine
"We Came Together" was written as song lyrics for New Zealand composer David Hamilton.
We Came Together
by Michael R. Burch
We came together – people of two lands
so unalike, at first, we hardly knew
how to be friends. We went to war, and drew
lines in the sand. And yet the sky was blue
for everyone, and big enough to share.
We came together, and our friendships grew.
We had to learn to share the selfsame air,
to find the path to harmony,
to find some common ground and let peace bloom.
We came together and we gave hope room
to blossom in our hearts. We learned to be
together in our common destiny.
We come together – people of many lands
so unalike, at first, and now we know
how to be friends.
Keywords/Tags: song, song lyrics, music, composer, diversity, understanding, tolerance, common ground, multiracial, friends, friendship
We Come Together, Holding Hands (I)
by Michael R. Burch
We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it’s what the day demands.
We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it’s what the day decrees.
The time is right. The time is now.
We come together, knowing how
the world depends on us to know
the only time to love is now.
We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it’s what the day demands.
We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it’s what the day decrees.
Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch
We Come Together, Holding Hands (II)
by Michael R. Burch
We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it's what the day demands.
We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it's what the day decrees.
Earthbound,
and yet we fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that all our songs
that echo where mountains stand lifting
the sky…
can be heard.
The time is right. The time is now.
We come together, knowing how
the world depends on us to know
the only time to love is now.
Earthbound,
and yet we fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that all our songs
that echo where mountains stand lifting
the sky…
can be heard.
We sing together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it's what the day demands.
We sing together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We sing together, seeking peace;
it's what the day decrees.
Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch
i wrote a giddy little song
by michael r. burch
i wrote a giddy little song,
which u can dance to, all night long;
i wrote a giddy little poem,
it’ll tempt a smile, like sea foam;
i wrote a giddy little line,
it’ll tease a laugh, like a dandelion;
I wrote a song and took the trouble,
it’ll make u smile, like a soap bubble;
i wrote this giddy bit of fluff,
now dance to it, get off ur duff!
Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch
Feb 22, 2020
Feb 22, 2020 at 1:06 AM UTC
I was hit on today
For one of the first times in my life
It was shocking to me
That a man
Would have the tenacity
To walk up to me
Look me up and down
And ask me for my phone number
For a "friend" who saw me walk by
And thought I was "hot"
After I let him down by revealing my relationship status
I felt strange
Since when have men felt this way about me?
Enough to obviously hit on me in public?
I did not think I was attractive enough
Or sent those "Come get me, boys" vibe
To be one of those girls they cat called
I was always the ugly friend
The one they looked past
The DUFF
But now I guess it is different
But even though I'm different,
I'm still not one of those girls who knows
How to handle being hit on
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
MaaaaaaaaaannnNNN !!!!!
I DON’T ... Give A **** !!!!!!
People over here ….
Like to …. " Pass The Buck " …
" Problems " ... Now ... APPEAR
cos most ... Live in ... " FEAR " ... !!!!!
But …
Fear's ... NOT MY PROBLEM ... !!!
My Position is ... " CLEAR " … !!!
I Know what i'm doing ... !!!
but … young people are ... Moving …
Like … New Born Deer ... !!!
Many Can't ... " stand up " ... !!!
But STILL …. They Sup ...
On ... EVERY kind of ...
Beer ... They're Near … !!!
Then come to work ...
and ... “ POSTURE ” …
with vision ....
Still ... uNcLEaR … !!!
Systems ... THIS ... !!!!
and …. Systems ... THAT ... !!!!
These Fools nowadays ...
REALLY ... Talk some ... CRAP … !!!!
They're Lucky because …..
I’m ... Tall and Black ....
because …. If I was … ???
A ... " Top Flight White " …
BELIEVE … Fo' REAL … !!! …
They Would get ... "TRAPPED" … !!!!
They'd get ... Directed …
OFF ... The Map … !!!!!
With … No Way for them ...
To ... Come Back … !!!! …
I say this stuff ….
cos' work is ... ROUGH ... !!!
when dealing with ...
These chicks and chaps ….
I hear these things ...
These days on ... Trains ...
It seems that others ...
Feel ... " The Drain " ...
of colleagues ... who ...
Can't Take ... THE STRAIN … !!!!
But are ... THE FIRST ...
to ... Dish Out Blame ... !?!
for problems ... THEY ...
Put in ... " The Frame " ...
They take this work thing ...
for a ..... " Game " ..... !?!
When Business Deals ...
GO UP ... in flames ... !!!
They look ...
" Bemused " … ? …
Now …
Ain't that ... LAME … !!!
Now ... if my name ...
was ... David Blaine ...
These people ... wouldn't ...
look the same ... !!!!! ...
They'd be like ... " Clint " ....
WITHOUT ... A Name ...
while I would ... " Drift " .................
To Those .... " High Plains " ....
and there is ... " Where " ...
I would ... RETAIN …
My ... Peace of Mind ...
CLEAR OF ... The blind ...
who try to put me ....
In a .... " BIND " ....
With ... ANY EXCUSE …
That they can ... " Find " ... ?!?
to ... CLEAR THEMSELVES ...
Leaving me .... behind ....
Well …. !!!!!
This is where …...
They Should ... BEWARE … !!!!!
My tactics are …
" Refined " ... like wine ...
NOT ... to drink ... !!!
But for ... THIS LINK ...
My train of thought …
Shows that ... I THINK … !!!
on how to leave them …
On The …. BRINK …. !!! ….
NOT … On The Virge ... !!!!!!!
Cos' that's for me ...
to ... Lyrically Splurge …
" Poetic Words " ....
that ... DEFINE ... " The Truth " ...
to … “FOOLISH HERDS" … !!!
cos' ...
Moves they make ...
Define .... “ABSURD” …. !!!?!!!
My Vision's ... CLEAR ... !!!
While there's is .....
" blurRRrrrrrEDD !!!! "
So ....
with these words ...
Do You ... " Concur " ... ???
or has ... The Piece ...
Left you like …..
D'EerrrrrrrRRRRRR …. ???!!???
I'll give you time ....
So ... Please Confer … !!!
This is ... " My Challenge " ...
Try to ... Balance ...
“PROBLEMS” … that ...
You face ... at work ...
cos' working with ….
" Blame Culture " ... Berks ...
Could …. Like the ... " Chicken " ...
Leave you ... ****** … !!!!! ...
While these ... " Smart Alecks " ...
………….. “PANIC” ………… !!!!!!!!!!!!!
And then ... " Hit The Street " ...
Just like .... " THE MANICS " …. !!!!!
This piece for me …..
Has been …. “ TITANIC ” …. !!!!!
Like the … STRUGGLES ...
In my job …. Because ….
My Colleagues ...
are ... “MESSED UP” ... !!!!!
Folks …. This is why ...
I write ... This Stuff ... !!! …
To ... STOP ME …. " Slappin' " ....
SOME FOOL ... UP ... !!! ...
Who tried to say ....
“Big Virge Messed Up ” ….
When ... TRUTH IS ….
Their work's …
ALWAYS ... " DUFF ” ... !!!!!
which is why ... " They Try " ...
to ... " COVER THEIR **** " ...
Thinking ... that they're ... SMART ... ?!?
and so ...
are quick to …
" Pass The Buck " ...
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
We have a cat
He’s a ******* and a ****
I’ll give you that.
We have a cat
He reminds me of a loose woman
He leaves all day and then again late at night.
We have a cat
My stepbrother bought him an ace little collar
Sometimes he comes home without it on.
We have a cat
He goes out and shags all the neighborhood ******
Half of them are up the duff by him I bet.
We have a cat
We don’t treat him too well
So he runs away from us.
We have a cat
His life with the neighbors is far better
He’d bite your arm off to be there instead of here.
We have a cat
I know how he feels
I bit my arm off to be with the neighbors instead of you.
We have a cat
He and I are quite the same
I follow out on his paws when he leaves.
We have a cat
You killed the cat
Now **** me too.
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC
When I was little I was scared of things like sleeping in a room without my sister and the dark.
And I once choked on a cookie while crying,
And my babysitter used to let me off of my groundings if I promised not to tell.
And my aunt used to put m&ms; at the bottom of my bowl of popcorn, and everytime I was surprised.
When I was little I loved Hilary Duff and Mary-Kate & Ashley
I owned all the movies and cds.
I wanted to be pretty and skinny and blonde.
I practiced my signature to look like Hilary's
And tried to smile like Ashley.
I named my dolls Mary-Kate.
I wanted to be them.
When I was little I saw ghosts.
I would sit on the steps and talk to them,
Discussing movies and my favorite tv shows and how badly I wanted an msn account.
And they followed me and taunted me but mostly they were nice so they were my friends.
Now Im a big girl and Im still scared of things like
Sleeping in a room without my sister and the dark
And I don't eat while I cry anymore, because I once choked on a cookie and my mom ignored me.
And I don't have a babysitter anymore, but I never leave my room anyways.
And my aunt doesn't surprise me anymore.
I'm a big girl now,
And I know that Mary-Kate was a drug addict,
And that Hilary had an eating disorder
And that I look bad blonde
And that Im neither pretty or skinny
And that my smile will never look like Ashleys.
I know that I have an awful signature.
And that all those girls were sick.
But now I'm sick
Does this mean Im finally like them?
I'm a big girl now,
And instead of Disney stars, I idolize girls on tumblr
With thigh gaps and long hair
And ribs that stick out
I want so badly to be them.
Im a big girl.
I still see ghosts, but they aren't friendly anymore.
They pull my hair and dig at my skin and whisper nasty things to me.
We talk about death and blood and how good it must feel to be so skinny
That you can lie on your back and count your ribs
One
By
One.
They aren't nice anymore, but they're still my friends.
I'm a big girl now.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
3 in the morning
its
3 in the morning
blue light
From the pod charger
Fills the room
Lately
Its become the norm
To lay awake
In these early
Morning hours
words
banging
round inside
my brain
as rocks
in a
can
of
tin
words
pop
pop
popping
like popcorn
in a
microwave
need to throw
back
nights covers
pull my
duff
outa bed
take out
pen and
paper
release
the words
from
inside
my
head
****
its 530
in the morning
jSweptson
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 5:19 AM UTC
And it's still hard to believe it's been a year
even after a year has turned into a year and one month
And the burn that follows a tequila shot
is accompanied by your laugh
And coconut anything smells like you
And anytime any one of the many songs you loved plays
You are all I see
And I think about your eyelashes
when I put my makeup on
And red lipstick and polka dots
cannot be worn without remembering you on any other day
And lemon squares taste
like those good times
LOTR? The Beatles? Pink Floyd? Fleetwood Mac? Shakespeare? Hilary Duff?(only you would understand)
All enjoyed with you in mind
And everything that's awesome
has become a reminder
that you missed being our tequila queen on the first day;
that you never got to wear your cap and gown
and eat pancakes at 5 am;
never got to see eighteen
and put your well educated vote to use;
and you never got to stand to your full five feet and one inch
and say to the world
"Here I come."
And I guess the songbirds keep singing
with that blackbird
in the dead of night
But it's hard to hear
because we're all butchering Bennie and the Jets
at the top of our lungs
from atop someone's couch
Just like you'd have wanted,
just like you'd have done.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 2:05 AM UTC
*sharing all seasons -
international home of
earthling family.*
this is life lost -
deaths of brothers and sisters
cut me, raging tears
rage of tears at dawn
--how are you?
my beloved strangers...
earthlinghood revised,
blogospheric species-hope.
first day
adless surfing -
wet my pants.
the old concentration back,
i breathe relieving sighs.
infotainment age -
authentic journalism
revised and found
#riseupoctober -
"The Souls of Black Folk," asks Du Bois,
do you have a soul?
my white-washed education
didn't give me one; love did.
Trent Lott's lot:
a segregationist, blogged
into mississippi's mud.
Coltrane's music
fire in my chest, *supreme
love-train* of Cornel West
*Chimamanda sings
inclusion and awareness -
what do you sing?
untimely autumn
frost, grinding into duff
a bigot's words.*
.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
I jumped on my bike as fast as I could
but not fast enough, it did me no good
the bully kid was big and mean and acted very tough
laughing all the while he quickly knocked me on my duff
Rubbing grass in my mouth, slapping me in the face
him laughing at me, me feeling so disgraced
he punched me so hard then left me crying on the ground
I slowly stood up, was there anyone else around?
I gathered up my books and slowly climbed on my bike
and pedaled straight home mustering all of my might
"What happened to you, son?" Mom was the first to see
I cried as I replied "I got beat by a bully!"
"I'm so sorry for you son, I'm so sad that you were harmed"
just then my dad walked in and immediately looked alarmed
Dad quickly asked me "Son, did you give him back the same?"
I sheepishly said "no" re-experiencing the shame.
My dad just stared awhile then said "I don't like what you're becoming.
Next time you better fight, give the bully what he's got coming!
First you punch him in the stomach then you hit him in the face
He won't hurt you any more, when you put him in his place!"
I slowly nodded as he left, then Mom quickly gave my cheek a kiss
"I'm so proud of you son for not fighting him with your fist
The Lord's servant doesn't need to fight but should be gentle instead"
"Yes ma'am" I quickly said as conflicting counsel twirled round my head
The next 5 years at school when tensions flared I was a gentle talker
as a bully approached my sophomore year I threw him against his locker!
Thank you Mom and Dad!
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 3:13 PM UTC
Saturday
shop busy
you with Dylan Thomas’s
Deaths & Entrances
poetry book
tucked in
your inside pocket
of your brown jacket
Miss Croft
Saturday girl
dark hair
ponytailed
swaying
her tight ***
in her short skirt
up and down
the shop aisle
Duff the manager
bespectacled
with curly mass
of dark hair
standing there
cigarette in mouth
conversing
with a customer and wife
about which paint
went best
with what wallpaper
giving the dame
the eye
giving the charm
you tanked up
(you worked better
that way)
with some old couple
wanting curtains
to match
the wallpaper choice
the blue flowers
the pattern
the old guy gazing
at the Croft girl
the way
she wiggled her ***
her la-de-da tones
her bright eyed
expression
then she talked
to friends from college
more friends
than Trotsky
had enemies
standing there
hands on hips
tight tee shirt
small ****
and can you order this
in a light blue
the old dame asked
the blue here’s
too dark
the old guy nodded
his head turned
eyes on his wife’s
profile
sure sure
you said
controlling the slur
the beer taking hold
the old dame
seemed pleased
her husband gave
the Croft girl
another secret gaze
her tight *** moving
side to side
as she walked
the aisle
her friends departed
you watched her
with her bourgeoisie
life and ways
her small tight body
wrapped
like a dream
and the sale complete
the old couple
went away
through the business
of wallpaper
and paint
all of a Saturday.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
Static anxiety housed in a shipping container
Bound for the coast of Maine.
Pandora slipped out from the lead-lined box,
And drowned out of sight, in elapsing waves.
Hallowed shores in the presence of beached harlequins
Sipping sand as their bodies get dragged
Latched and cast off as bait
Used to pull Poseidon out from the depths
Holding fast as shipping lanes rust,
Bleeding off into the current bellow.
Path marked by Aphrodite’s bust.
Belittled at the point of metaphysical conceit.
The epic crashed and burned
Turned to dust through a negligent Milton
Burning down the library of Alexandria
Housing ashy books with inadequate binding.
Homer, now, repeats a Harvard grads humor
Doh filled remnants of a paralyzed form
Duff downed in the hours after the plants closing
The barred doors leave Joyce with nothing left to quote.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Today the Sunday special brief
iCloud online worship session, I did attend
(via remote support)
found me feeling pampered,
when adept technical support
didst figuratively bend
over backwards, thus aye defend
glorious, righteous,
and zealous Gurus who did expend
their religious fervor, without proselytizing
and sanctified dedication they proffered
as if this secular chap hapt tubby
a long time Facebook friend
diligently persevered amidst
my woeful yelping alarm
where bot sized wetbacks, setbacks,
and drawbacks,
required a secret char
which this netizen vaguely understood
as unfair be-tidings disallowing
thyself to purchase additional farm
ming out iCloud storage
in the deleterious harm
akin to buggy ah mush swarm
comprised documents
(painstakingly slaved over with zest)
plus sundry data necessitating mooch ***
legal tender (probably every
last red cent of mine) to in vest
concerted efforts of
at least one expert to test
her/his mettle in an attempt
(dim prospect) performing an in quest
to retrieve valuable data lost amidst a nest
of inaccessible "lost" information
(bantering with computer
jargon more so jest
with no intention to "FAKE"
trumpeting minimal knowledge
judiciously impressed
upon thine fifty plus
shades of gray matter, at my be hest
expressing scant cumulative
disc cussing duff frag
minted understanding lest,
a personal goal
to incapsulate in poetic best
not abandoning frustration
with this Macbook Pro
cuz, positive experience
wrought with Apostles eye attest,
so rather then vent
my spleen in vein
hie desisted
to rage against the machine,
and tack toward being urbane
thus, rejoicing with a cherry,
hearty, and mighty byte hooray,
asper driving,
exercising, and foisting
gentle circuitry vis a vis
neurotransmitters and neuromodulators
nudging pull-ups
within cerebral terrain.
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 7:17 PM UTC
A good day is when youre singing in the car and your brother shouts every lyric. Its blasting NSINC and pretending that you're justin and he's...one of the other guys. It's reminding him of a time he stole a Hillary Duff CD from your sister because it was his guilty pleasure.
A good day is hearing him laugh again. Its looking into his eyes and not finding the devil. its seeing the ashes of a wildfire and knowing that there are trees still standing, that he is still standing and his legs are done shaking and he may have a few branches missing but he's willing to grow new ones.
A good day is being hit until you name five candy bars. Snickers, Twix, Hersheys, sour patch kids..wait. no. See, its so hard to think when your head is a pack of smarties. Does he remember when he taught you how to crush them and inhale the powder? Your first blunt was the sweetest but he was looking for a different high.
A good day is having him ask about your record player as if he's never seen one before. As if everything is new to him, as if he's missed a whole lifetime. He tells you that its like falling asleep and waking up to a different sky and wondering how long it's been that way. Its staring into a mirror to watch your eyes dilate, its watching them change colors and remembering how they used to be.
He tells you that he wants every day to be a good day. That this time will be different. He tells you that its been 5 days and he's still counting but all you can think of is the last.. day 5; Hearing your mothers phone ring and knowing who it is even though its a blocked number. You think of day 10 and all the sweat he laid shaking in. Day 15, when you saw him for the first time in 3 months and his smile for the first time in years. He tells you about the friends he's made and laughs about the brick wall he hangs out with outside. He says that even though there's a piece of glass between you, he's never felt so free.
You think of day 35 and the three phone calls you missed and you remember picking up the 4th one. When he told you that he was sorry. That he tried but couldn't reach you. He tells you that he went for plan B, he tells you that he found an old friend that always picks up and how he forgot why they stopped talking in the first place.
You tell him that youre sorry. You tell him that your head was stuck in smarties and you've been hoarding candy bars for months.
Day one; You put a lighter to wrappers and your eyes are a wildfire.
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
Regrets are sad
like a cancer
that won't go away
she said
always there growing
like big black spiders
in my sleep.
The psychiatrist sat
in the chair
by the couch
where she lay.
We all have regrets
he said
part of the human make-up.
But mine are mine
she said
things I've said
or done or not done
or said and I can't
get them out
of my head.
The psychiatrist leaned
forward hands together
bald head lowered
a watch chain looped
from his waistcoat pocket.
What regrets have you?
he said
lifting his big
brown eyes to her
seeing a scenery of thigh
in the spilt of her skirt.
She looked at her feet
the black shoes
I got up the duff
and had the baby
done away with
she said
peering at the scuff marks
on the toes of her shoes.
The psychiatrist
raised his eyes to her head
the way her hair
was parted in the center
brown coloured.
And that is one
of your regrets?
He said
noticing her eyes
staring into space
the narrowness of her face.
Saw this picture
of a baby at the age
mine was when
I had it done
she said
looking at him
seeing his plump features
the lips moving.
Many women
have abortions each year
he said
some have regrets
some do not.
I didn't go see
my mum when she
had cancer
never visited her
and she died
she said.
Why did you
not visit her?
he asked
feeling a mild headache
beginning.
We had a row
about me having
the baby done in
and we didn't talk after
she said.
He nodded grim faced
and silenced
an inner laughter.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 9:58 AM UTC
pick phone up put it down again
take a selfie no another one and again light isn’t right
what’s on Twitter scroll for twenty minutes pause basically
PREGNANCY PRANK [GONE WRONG] add to playlist
oh how can he be the president like says it ‘coz he can
love the warm weather global warming maybe but oh well
Starbucks for breakfast lunch Spotify playlist
like red heart blue thumbs-up share like
that inspirational quote you know basically I can relate
CHEATING PRANK [GONE WRONG] add to playlist
election couldn’t have told you there was one
have we left it yet like what are we leaving again
petty crime rise stay vigilant
something about Brussels a royal up the duff
but did you see what Kim was wearing like did you hear
what her sister did with that guy you know that guy
look she’s uploaded why we broke up shame
oh yeah oh well
retweet
Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 7:06 PM UTC