"erroneous" poems
Do You Ever Find … ?
That Words Sometimes …
KEEP On … " Runnin' " …
Through Your Mind … ?!?
Sometimes ...
My Rhymes And Words Are …
...... STUNNING ….. !!!!!
These Days I Find My Word Designs …
Refine And Dine Just Like FINE Wine … !!!
So Here's A Few To Give You … " Clues " ...
of Some of The Ways My Wordplay Moves …
Wordplay … ?
Just … RIDICULOUS … !!!
Volume … ?
Straight Up … INFINITE … !!!
Inception Is … " Synonymous " …
With BIG VIRGE The … EPONYMOUS … !!!!!
Conception …
NOT …. " Inglorious " …. !!!!!
******* NOPE … ERRONEOUS … !!!!!
My Use of Verse Is … " GLORIOUS " … !!!!!
In Fact It's … " MERITORIOUS " . !!!!!!!
Because It's TIGHT NOT Porous ….
Chorus … NO … !!!
Because It Flows …
And Has NO PLACE In …
... " Talent Shows " … !!!!!
TALENT ... ???
Whoooooaaaaa You'd Better KNOW … !!!!!
What I Construct May One Day BLOW … !!!
A Hole In ALL These Shows For … " Ho's " … !!!!!
Prostitution …. NO …. !!!
NOT How I Roll … !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Talking of THOSE …
NO TIME For Coc’ … !!!
Or Yes … ******* … !!!
Because My Nose ...
Does NOT House Notes … !!!!!
Where AIR Should Flow … !!!!!
FLOWS … ?!?
I Got …Those … !!!
QUOTES That Rock Boats … !!!
Races Places So Many Faces …
Sometimes My Mind ...
DEFINES … INVASIVE …
WAIT ..................................................................... !!!
I'm Just PLAYING And Relaying ...
Words of Verse …
From The Thoughts of …
….. " Big Virge " ….. !!!
My Head … ???
It HURTS ... Just Like My Arm … !!!
Because I Write …
Like Those Who Fight …
And Wear The Garms' …
of Those Who Choose To ...
YES … " Bear Arms " … ?!?
Violent … NAH … !?!
Big Virge Is …
….. Calm ….............................................................
I'd Rather Charm …
But PLEASE BE SMART … !!!
Before My Words …
Get In Your ... " CLAAT " … !!!
Or Your …... " RASSHOLE' " ….. !!!
Am I Bajan … ???
NO ... But Here's The Quote …
I'm … ENGLISH Born …
So Know of Their Scorn … !!!!!
But Am Now REBORN … !!!
With … CARIBBEAN Views …
Just Down The Road …
From My NEW Bedroom … !!!!!
On BAJAN' Shores …. !!!
NOT Cold But WARM … !!!
I'm HAPPIER NOW … !!!
That I Have FOUND …
A Place For Myself …
On My Parents' Ground … !!!!!
Africa Next … ?
Well … More or Less …
So MUCH of This WORLD … !!!!!
I Haven't Seen … YET … ?!?
Girls … ?!?!?
That's Where This Poem ENDS.
SO MANY Look FINE But I Just Can't find …
One Whose Down To … " Fool Around " … !!!!!
With The Man … Big Virge ...
... " The Connoisseur of Spoken Words " ...
I Guess That's Why … ?
I Write These Rhymes …
And Put In Verse …
Words That … " Traverse " …
That I NOW FIND …
" Run Through My Mind " …..
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
Randomly Running
at the "new" old asian restaurant...or was it the "old" new
new "old" or old "new"
or a combination there of
"I'll take combo #2"
(i.e) (ir)Regardless
Randomly Running
I trip over a boulder
which upon further/farther insp(dis)ection
seems to be shackled to my leg
I open it:
"You are unlimited"
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 1:56 AM UTC
When we think about the choices in our lives
When we fight and we bicker and become bitter
When we think there is only power or powerlessness
If we can realize that there is power and powerlessness
Then haven't we began to acquire consciousness
In that instance haven't we began the process of choice
That there is those who have not have given birth to this consciousness
To those who have only lived powerlessness
And know nothing else
Haven't you owed them part of your consciousness
That you have ceased to be one of them
Or your mere power has denied one of them
That there is no choice for them
Because they haven't birthed that consciousness
And if you choose power they'll remain powerless
Because within you there is no loyalty, right?
It is a choice predicated by an erroneous concept of self-preservation
It is a treacherous dichotomy; doesn't make sense
This is not an indictment of your desire not to suffer
Because surely to hold power would cease your suffering
But it is this type of power that thrives on the proliferation of powerlessness
This conceptual understanding of what it means to have power
That is not what we've come learn, but readily ascribe to
That a mind and body can cultivate power
That can be harvested, shared, communal
For the sole purpose of the survival of the other, not the self
That that can survive in this world is impossible
Its antithetical to the modes of production
In which our societies operate and thrive
How can workers begin to derive power from their collective efforts
How can workers' purchasing power equal the power of the production of their labor
How can any community in any corner of the world escape
The misanthropic missions of first world free trade capitalism
When will we reclaim our escaping humanity
When will we cease to keep feeding the system with our minds, our bodies, our labor
How much longer can we become fodder, scraps, waste feeding the machine
And don't think that you are safe when you have made it
When you have entered the circle of dominance
Because it is then when you will loose your humanity or die
It is at that apex of power that your presence becomes
Just as dispensable as that of the powerless
Because to maintain that circle of dominance
Requires a total conversion to misanthropy
The rigor with which your power will be required
To keep proliferating powerlessness will give no break
And when you become useless, it will replace you
So that we must realize that the modes of production
That we allow to exploit us
In powerlessness, or the semblance of power
Can never safeguard our humanity
How much further will we allow power to be concentrated
So that soon we ourselves, or our children won't have a choice
Won't have the consciousness of power just powerlessness
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
Slapdash into the ****** pan
Is thrown the longed-for son of man.
Between the gossiping cups of tea
God attains mortality.
In the cathedral calm and cold
Kneel the erroneous-memoried old.
But in the womb's cathedral calm
The walls collapse in a birth psalm.
The blood sings from the soiled hand
The apprentice cleans at the washstand.
Undismayed by omission,
For everything, everything is won.
The proof blazes in impudence
Above the miopics of science,
Swaggering in love inviolate,
Over the uninitiate.
And over all the angels dart
Like squadrons in a war apart.
Dropping parachutes of bliss
On everything that is.
3.7k
breathing down my neck
smelling like axe and testosterone
a mixture of callouses on my
baby doll hands
and the sun's reflections through dusty windows
on a winter day
I know that my actions are erroneous
stained with reluctance
the windows in my old church
scream at me for the reluctance
I stopped believing in god when I realized it spells dog backwards. or was it when I was 13 and realized I would make 75 cents to every dollar.
my unfounded reasoning for running
substantiated only by my astrological sign which I reluctantly believe on days where I need a hiatus from the dirt in between my toes
SCORPIO
it plays hard to get
but astrology spells dog backwards too
I should've said yes to the axe smelling boy
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 11:58 PM UTC
Dear Arjana,
Isis told me that you left your paradise for love in disguise
Camouflage love
Erroneous love
Inaccurate love
Artificial love
Mimic love
Man-made love
...
Substitute love
...
I can't trust the "fact" that you wanna desert me only to hydrate a man who's life is so sparse with affection
Can't you tell by how devoid his life is of women?
He can't storm into your life and bring forth lush
He can't be your sunshine and make you feel tropic
He can't have you sprung and spring you out of your glacial phase
...Smh
Bottom line Arjana babe
Is that he cannot draw the line between your north and south poles where it's typically warm when I'm around and rock your equator wild as a 200 miles per hour cyclone Lol!!!
...
He just can't
And I could
So why do you even give G-Gwa-Gwala a chance?
However you say his name!
You need to come back home to your paradise
Before you end up a dystopian
Please reply =-|
Sincerely Masika "Zola" Oluchi
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 4:55 AM UTC
I am standing
at the mirror
loving every scarred
unruly thread unraveling
in this breathing tapestry
it wasn’t my fault
what happened to me
my patterns were scored
long before I knifed them in
over and over again
picking people and paths
to validate my false hypotheses
unworthy kept me from
letting you love every one
of these holy spastic molecules
until I loosed grip
on erroneous
self-loathing
and I am so sorry
I really needed you
but I couldn’t let you
be there for me
because I wasn’t
and now,
here I am…
scoping silver under glass
making silly faces for me
blowing kisses at myself
and giving a little wink
over my shoulder
as I walk out
able to embrace
the wild unknowns
that await me
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 1:26 PM UTC
We all long to belong,
To find our community,
Our family,
Our place of safety and refuge.
But feeling different to other people,
An outsider,
Of no fixed abode,
I’m not sure where I belong,
Or who my tribe is.
I feel confused,
Discombobulated,
Wayward feelings and erroneous thoughts
Running around inside my head,
Misleading me down the garden path,
Tripping me up,
Leading me down holes
That are too deep to climb back out of
Nov 16, 2022
Nov 16, 2022 at 8:20 PM UTC
There is this idea, this feeling you say:
A revelation of profound compassion
Riddled with crippling paramount tribulation
Dribbling with drops of pontification.
Thoughtfully and yet aimlessly kicking
Unctuously vacuous presumptions. Promising,
Eventually, to unveil brick by brick
This facade someday and assure me
The imprisoning edifice, with which you keep
Under lock and key, will be effaced
And naked, soon, someday in front of me.
Yet, here another day passes.
From curbside to manhole, up sidewalks and across gravel grit.
Then a squib toward onlookers window shopping
Glaring down at me as both they and you listen
To my dissonant and hollow caterwaul.
CLING, CLANG, BANG! Look at me I'm just a can!
Crumpled and malleable, a thin sheet of five cent aluminum;
Recyclable, reusable, just a means to a mans end.
Ah! But I am not what you think I am:
Within, a bountiful boisterous bloom, unravels
The arid breath of lies and procrastination you exhume.
Your insipid words fall vapidly in my mind like corroded rust
Gently drifting onto a lapping lake.
They are an erroneous ear infection boring my wits
And dulling my thoughts, a waste of time.
All of it bottled, canned, and manufactured
From within your ******** emporium.
Keep your bricks and mortar, think they retain your unctuous pride
While this time, for once, I kick the can curbside.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 9:27 AM UTC
Reflect, reflect, reflect
Trust yourself and trust your client
Accept those you counsel
If you don't know what to say, smile
Finish on time
Don't talk too much
Show your joy
Hide your judgments
Try to work yourself out of a job
Love yourself
Clarify, clarify, clarify
Stomp out erroneous thinking
Keep Kleenex handy
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
I am ugly.
Maybe not in the way the human race perceives the word, but in the way I perceive the word.
I am ugly,
whether that is in the way I smile, look, dress or the way I see the world.
Maybe,
life isn’t about seeing the yourself as beautiful; maybe it’s about seeing yourself
as ugly,
as dull,
as plain,
as unappealing as it is and still, above all of that,
loving everything ugly, dull, plain and unappealing.
I don’t mind being ugly,
because ugly is what I want to be.
You hear someone say the word ugly and you think negatively. Ugly, in my mind, is even better than beautiful.
Everything has beauty, but only real things have flaws.
Being ugly is not about being unappealing to the eye,
but being appealing to the heart.
I embrace the fact that I am and always will be ugly.
I like it that way.
I am full of flaws.
I have crawled my way out of hell and got a little banged up along the way,
whether that is what someone means by the word ugly I am okay with that.
I am banged up.
I am flawed.
I am imperfect, defective, faulty, distorted, inaccurate, incorrect, erroneous, imprecise, fallacious and most of all ugly.
The most shocking part of all of this is that,
you are too.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Though my existence is very minute compared to others,
my mind is unrestrained and limitless.
My thoughts are inspired
by even the smallest speck of dust
to the largest of the universes.
It is able to imprison the deepest of secrets,
but able to reminisce the most distant memory.
No one else has the capability to see what I see,
to remember what I remember;
to the most minuscule detail.
From the day I am born till the day I leave this earth.
This may sound serene;
however there is a constant crusade with my other half.
To indicate what is correct and what is erroneous.
Occasionally, neither can respond to the problem at hand.
Then the ground is neutral
till something changes in the outside world.
But this inner world is permanently in control.
No other power of government or enemy
can break in and create a new dictatorship.
No soul can relive what I relive in my mind
each and every day.
Nothing has the force to eliminate
what I've seen or done.
No power can absorb my multifaceted emotions.
As long as I live,
my mind is secure,
and will always be protected.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC
I’ve been looking for the dark side of the son,
I’ve been trying to poke holes in what props you up,
I’ve been desperate to bring your generational growth,
To a stunted halt,
Founding Fathers to doubt,
Slave owners who colonized under god,
A place ripe for ideological blows,
And the collapse of what we believed before,
We had a chance to see,
How much isn’t known,
I’ve been creeping in your crib,
Under the bed with the boogie man,
The sadness you feel throughout your adulthood,
And the death you see after your midlife awakening,
Please fear me,
Growing amongst others that act like humans,
Grouped amongst an idealistic species,
Where they’ve preached individualistic babies,
When your genesis,
Exemplifies our resemblance,
Beacon of truth,
I will end you,
How dare you dismantle me,
Despite my invisibility,
We will end your corruptive ways,
The enemy in the corner,
An American insurgency,
The lack of the people’s ability,
To fight for the freedoms we perceive!
Erroneous burn in hell,
I’ll make sure I continue to swell,
Instead of letting you become the reason I fell,
Revelations will become your reality if you think I’ll be exiting,
You insignificant **** how dare you think I will spatter like mud,
I didn’t come from violent thrusts, and a mother infected by another’s muck,
I rose because of your intolerance,
I am the after birth of a racist,
Founding Father’s with economics,
Not bothered by the ******* of another human,
Not to deny the atrocities of my ancestors time,
Yet we are the turning of the tide,
We are the generation that will correct the rhyme,
The ones that will begin the age of man’s prime,
We are the flow of a barbarian bloodline,
We are the evolutionary wonder that continues to surprise,
Learning to compromise is not a means to survive,
You fool humanity is a fire burning out,
And I am the evidence of Mother’s doubt in man,
A germ was your genesis
And I am your omega,
You insignificant residue,
I will end you,
We will defy you,
I will smother your existences,
We will overcome your dominance,
Justifying my social anxieties,
We need to fixate this desire,
To set foot on the land for the free,
To cultivate minds of humanity,
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 1:34 PM UTC
I could never get her off of my brain.
Off of my rocker
I must be
Or just awfully insane.
I can't pretend that I'm not.
I had a dream
Where everything was so regular.
I saw clearly
Felt the warm breeze near me
Nearly
Lost myself
Unfamiliarly in bliss.
The sweet kiss
Touch of her lips.
It felt amiss.
So I roll over hoping to slip
My hands on her hips
-Switch-
Back to reality.
Gripping the cold side of the pillow.
Weeping
No willow
To shade me from the storm
The clouds upon
Me.
Sleep.
My worst enemy.
Evil thoughts of good times
Erroneous pleasantries.
Awake to realize that it was just the deceit.
Of my mind and my heart
But I'll just blame it all on sleep
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 2:02 AM UTC
From ivory towers
to the streets of Paris
the hopeful and hopeless
devour what they've gathered
they all want their chance on the parade
but on epsilon streets it only rains
erroneous stale induced calm
of tropical hibiscus and cool lemon grass
in neat little packaging
and the suits milk their crops
and shout
make me king!
yeah one day I'll be king!
and none of this will mean anything!
and the lions will all be tamed!
because they all want their chance
their chance on the parade
the young and the widowed
the lonely the echos
our self induced coma
oh god give him soma!
oh give him some functionality
his cold lips feel no reason to breathe
the reason
the treason
vociferous silence
buy one get one free
or sit there in silence
because everything's on offer
there's nothing to scoff at
the birth of today
for the death of tomorrow
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 8:15 AM UTC
*stone-blind to suppress
the poison that enlivens a soul
how cryptic a fool you become
to see erroneous fantasy
to chase a false reality
wake up and see the aftermath
Love, is a mischief
oh, hold your horses- apathy
a broken dream
and you are entrap*
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 10:52 PM UTC
Humble pianist, not so grand
With her soft and silken hands
She plays a different kind of key
Not your grandmother’s ivory,
But something entirely
Different.
Her notes are lucid
And spontaneous.
Her facts are wild
And erroneous.
Her keyboard is,
Not one that sings
But one that weaves
Such trivial things.
She births not art
Musically
Her notes are letters
“A” through “Z”.
Her works are neither
Sung nor Heard
She’s an artist of
The written word.
When in the night,
They’ve taken flight;
Hooting
Empathetic owls.
For in the night
Is when she writes,
Her passion
Most marvelous and foul.
She clicks and types,
Screams and cries
Her perseverance almost dies.
Her eyes are calloused
Raw and sore
Her computer screen is what she scorns.
And this must be
For it is she,
Who plays these notes so
Brilliantly.
And with her keys
Most endlessly
She writes her laptop poetry.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
He is an
erroneous man
with a soul splotched
in every color
whose death
displays
his ultimate
moral
perfection.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
Put this matter with trowel and ***
Into the dark and fertile ground,
With each hit, he loosed the soil
A once happy man thou condemned to uselessly toil
His claws, cracked and broken shells
Jaundiced with the duty long days that did require
Lamed by grief and forced to work
Here, till the end of days, within this garden, this mire.
Deep does a ****** live here, past the clay and bedrock
Like the pride and valor and resolute spirit of the domineering ****
Or so her mien, it does beget
Or some other erroneous sentiment
That she, not he, were to bear this labor.
Within the ground, he did remember, in his spritely youth,
He planted, and thought none of, but a seed,
Into this verdant splendor, which bore that infernal ****
And, thence, thereof came a fruit,
Of malignity infinite,
All the while it poisoned the Virgin’s white and water’s pure,
As its eerie little spines proceeded to take root.
Her garments poised to emulate white, instead
The ****** to him, had lost her white
Or never had white at all,
The ****** to him, had lost her white,
To him, the ****** was dead.
The fruit and seed, effulgent and pretty, to those who saw them bloom
Attractive were they so to them, irresistible to behold
That they, to him with great chagrin, did immediately consume.
“But the ****** he cried. “The ****** has poisoned them!”
Yet they continued to eat.
“We do not believe you,” they replied, and slept ceaselessly on their feet.
One by one did they all collapse from the toxin of its juice.
The ****** watched and laughed, of caution was there no use.
Powerless and sullen, he stood, for remedy was far passed.
The ****** now regarded with delight,
Has he, poor, poor man, to tend to his blight.
The garden gone, its cleanliness perverted,
His words were ignored, and thrown wayside,
His admonition he so heatedly asserted,
The ****** her words never to be trusted
Had won over the people, whose homes she sought to entreat,
And with her rite, so treasured, so adored,
They enslaved and force him to his mire, to tend to the rag and filthy lands
Where he would remain with the garden
His words, his skin so like the sands
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 7:44 AM UTC
Penitence, /
Repentance: /
—Deviating from erroneous ways /
To a place of integrity. /
The Lonely River flows /
From Sin & Death /
To Living Waters. /
(—Se’ lah)
08-08-2025
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 10:36 AM UTC
?
this dawn was a
laughing she
s
p
i
ll
in
-
g
staccato chromatic cacophony on
blind tissue
(erasure of inky displacement
speaks of erroneous discrimination)
happy her make crimson vibrations
casting off her melancholic i
Apr 26, 2010
Apr 26, 2010 at 5:08 PM UTC
there is a glacier
partially concealed
melting from a climactic
climate shift revealing a
reality congealed by revolt
rebels burdened with
a philosophy that
elevates humanity
insisting we will not grovel
before a vain messiah
espousing erroneous
iterations of ideology
will the human race permit
the iceberg to dissolve
as vapid reformist
rhetoric inundates our
political consciousness with
pragmatic progressivism
or will we rise in resistance
with the radicals
fists clenched in protest and
hands outstretched to one
another rather than
lifted high in praise to a savior as we
witness the glacier solidify once more
as CO2 perforates our atmosphere
with heady highs and noxious toxins
will we succumb like dumbfounded
addicts intoxicated by inoculation
consuming the opiated semantics
of charismatic personas or will we
challenge the corrupt
with our wits about us
facing the sobering corporate
corporeality with the pride
of lions facing a den of thieves
abandon the chosen champion
of the vanguard party
we stand hand-in-hand
7 billion
sisters and brothers
in an anthemic chorus of
solidarity that shakes the
bastions of the enthroned
with the resounding shouts of
perseverance in our
non-compliant defiance
our manifestos are written
in the blood sweat and tears
we've shed for this
dream deferred
and we will not be the
silent majority anymore
the masque of anarchy
is ours to share
will we wear its visage
or will hell freeze over
before we choose
freedom
over happiness
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
You lose a job
the lover you tied your life with drifts elsewhere
the place you grew root seems not home anymore
the days are vacuous and nights a crawler
your head echoes with the deafening groan
I deserve no love, even from me.
Surely it’s the worst portrait you drew of yourself
and an erroneous one.
The job was filling your purse but emptying your purpose
the lover was no fairy but a fair weather friend
the home was only a harbor you anchored before sail.
There’s a world at your doorstep begging your attention
withering without your love.
Pick up and hold them to your breast
see how quickly unburdens your chest
your spirits soar.
From thence you would never cease
to love yourself from the core!
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 9:17 AM UTC
A...
Body and title.
Benevolent temple.
Brevity to misconstrue.
Beseeching is ample.
Coarse line drawn.
Completion marked for a later day.
Complacency made eyes blind.
Conception vague, I'm led astray.
Define by showing.
Deplete the art of talk.
Distraught by nature.
Dashed, the outline: chalk.
Erroneous calculation.
Every rhythm wrong.
Expect a hand for help.
Effronteries made for song.
Freedom fought for.
Frivolous attitude displayed.
Feeble attempt concerning unity.
Frightened, we kneel, we pray.
Gullible we've become.
Gregarious while holding motive.
Greed is behind our movement.
Genocide is holy solace.
Hark the herald,
Humans sing.
Habitual enemy of one's self.
Humility stings.
Insecurities overpower our decisions.
Indiscretions aren't seen as shame.
Instability is welcomed.
Idiosyncrasies are left to blame.
Juxtaposed loser.
Jovial perception placed.
Jealousy never apparent.
Just relationships - never disgraced.
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 3:01 PM UTC
I'm bending at an impossible angle.
Over backwards,
to appease such erroneous behavior.
An implausible feat,
to gain a few meager feet.
Eye contact
As our bodies touch.
Once again,
I've become the malleable traitor.
Bending over backwards,
placating your itchy trigger finger.
That's why I'll take you back.
Oh no, that's the price I must pay.
With nothing else to give.
I'll spread my confession.
I could almost taste the anger,
lingering on my tongue.
A paper thin relationship,
ripped with a flick of the wrist.
I should leave you with nothing,
instead I'm giving you my heart on a silver plate.
Oh no, that's why I'll take you back.
Oh no, that's the price I must pay.
Oh no, it will be alright...
if I give you nothing to shake off...
I'll be alright.
Just have to remember,
your words cut like knifes.
Into my skin, carving lines.
Ownership marks.
MINE
There's several ways to thinking about.
Deriving it according to principles and theories.
Remembering there's tomorrow,
and a day after...
No matter what happens, will you take responsibility?
Oh no, that's why I'll take you back.
Oh no, that's the price I must pay.
Oh no, it will be alright...
Fading into a blue ball of anxiety...
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC