"experimenting" poems
I am not confused.
I am not going through "a phase".
I am not experimenting.
I am not half gay and half straight.
I am not greedy.
I am not lying.
I do not need to make my mind up.
I am not just trying to be cool.
I am certain.
I am not saying everyone is, but
I'm Bisexual
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 12:56 PM UTC
My unrequited golden dove,
you are a merchant banker
them bloomin' groovy bars
are sad tonight
but given the chance I wouldda gotten
cash & carried
& spent me porridge knife
loving your mince pies
had I not known
you'd treat me golden dove thus
& yes, been your trouble & strife
with all me Horse & cart.......
I know, not smart
I know, not smart
Translation:
( In English tis not a very impressive poem... it's just amusing how you can make cockney rhyming slang into a poem, so I've been experimenting.... I really want to send this to the guy I'm unrequitedly in love with actually... & leave him (hopefully)confused & in the dark as to what I wrote....mostly I just really want to call him a ' merchant banker' e.g ' wanker' & get away with it!! xD ' Wanker' is a particularly offensive term to use when referring to a man!)
* My unrequited love
you are a ******
them ****** stars
are sad tonight
but given the chance I would have gotten
married
& spent my life
loving your eyes
had I not known
you would treat my love thus
& yes, been your wife
with all my heart
I know, not smart
I know, not smart*
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
Today, in Bisexuality-"Pick a sided!"
Why should we? We have the right to-
"Shut up!"
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality-"Men can't be Bisexual!"
Yes, they can be, and-
****
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality- "Top 17 List of Gay Celebs!"
Bisexual Celebs have been listed as gay or lesbian. If you could, please-
"We said what we said!"
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality- **** gay marriage! You, people, are gross!"
Then, avert your eyes. And, it's called same-sex marriage for a reason. I'm Bisexual and when you don't acknowledge that you erase-
**** you!"
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality- "Y'all say Y'all like girls, but always marry men. It's so stupid!"
Did you ever stop to think it's because Queer women isolate and shun us? Did you ever stop to think most of us are fearful of coming out because we have to deal with Biphobia and always defending-
**** you *****
BLOCKED
Today, in Bisexuality- "Bisexuality isn't real!"
But, but, but, it's called LGBTQ because the B stands for-
"You are just confused and experimenting!"
But, I'm the B in LGBTQ and-
"Go **** yourself!"
BLOCKED
UNPLUG. RECHARGE. RESET.
I feel the cold. I'm forced in the void.
We don't have a voice. We are being destroyed.
Abused. Battered. Shunned. Lost.
You ignore our needs, and our lives are the cost.
No funding. No help. No representation.
We are the ******* children of a silent nation.
We ask for help and organizations wait for our week.
We aren't asking for much. It's Visibility we seek.
Using your voice is free. Make noise on your platform every day and night.
We aren't going away. For Visibility, we fight!
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 2:05 AM UTC
Sobriety.
Reality & Unrealistic Views.
Which One Do iPrefer and Chose?
Living in A Dream,
Make Believe Living. Rainbows and Sunshine, Butterflies
Just Your Own Happy imaginable Life You Create in Your mind.
iHate Sobriety, iHate The Real Things
i Hate the normal Feeling and
Dealing With ****
iHate Problems, Struggling, Misery
Not Being Happy
iLove To Consume, Experience
New Feelings Rather
Than Just One. I like tons,
Experimenting, Curiosity, Living In Different worlds..
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
My neck noosed
My legs loosed
I witness the tragic
It seems so emphatic
I feel entropy
Enter me
Centering
Around love and pain
I wear gloves of shame
Toxicity taints touch
My reaction is to cautiously recoil
For I feel a great punch
When I expect them to be loyal
A tear rolls down my cheek
Navigating scars
Like a man who is meek
Navigating bars
It starts and stops
Then keeps going
The tears drop
From what I'm knowing
That my time is evaporating
Dealing with the exasperating
I feel I can be caring
I just need the chance
We'll see how I'm fairing
On the end of your lance
Penetrating deeply
The pain is unceasing
Like a thousand bee stings
While you stand there feasting
Making me feel alive
From the pain inside
I guess things could always be worse
Sometimes that feels like a curse
Because I have problems all the same
But it's true
The sum of our troubles equal this game
That we lose
Even though I'd rather deal with *** and silence
Than to be vexed by violence
They're all just ways of imposing our will
Whether it's through who we birth or ****
Conflict is how we get our fill
Every day a different fire drill
We hate each other
We date each other
We underrate each other
To deflate each other
Pain is used as a tool
Until blood lays in a pool
These things that annoy us
Are met by avoidance
These things compound
Until I can't be unwound
I live in a world of contending intentions
It's a world of our own selfish invention
A world that burns bright
So I can't sleep
When day turns to night
I hear death creep
Seeking to take me from a life I never asked for
But I'm grateful to have
Life is about experimenting with opening doors
And I'm stuck in the lab
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak,
well, attire me in slavic myths and
i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too
for a helium bubble to become a comedian,
i know a jittery ******* addiction
when i see one...
if one thing the catholic schooling system
taught me was how to avoid
sniffing glue and how to recognise
a Freudian apostle - still, with all
the hippy **** you'd think
sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism
prescribed with paracetamol,
catholic education just said: no no.
**** me it's the late 90s and we're talking
post-Chernobyl antics...
but that's how i see the left, leftist politics,
the right
utilises prefixes and suffixes in the
old stance of simple pre- pro-
anti-
qua-
-so so...
the left? oh they're right in there...
their prefixes are
Marxist-
liberal-
Hegelian-
whatnot...
they don't
use abstract prefixes,
their prefixes
are concrete,
they want the porridge in their mouth
to ensure a slur that never comes,
among a range of onomatopoeias they argue
from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd,
via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech
to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother,
****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method;
i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo
experimenting, it's called experimenting with
thought rather than practising with will,
former no chance of footstep evaluation for
cult status imitable -
the left intellectual
has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro -
it has to be concrete layered and a shut off
perfect architecture without fault -
it can't be what it is -
con-
has to be conservative
pro-
has to be socialist
you once said legitimate
transparency - but you didn't say legislation -
well, the left understood it as legislation,
the right too wanted legitimate transparency -
the green party said we could have neither
but could have the replanting of a thousand
oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first
oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest...
b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye -
hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity
too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's
fingernail toothpick!
at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of
place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes!
ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding!
*** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
i write poems for fun.
help me.
i write poems for fun during lunch,
while all the other kids live their adolescent lives.
i write poems for fun on weekends,
while others are experimenting with drugs and alcohol at awesome house parties.
i write poems for fun alone,
while everyone else explores each other's bodies.
i write poems for fun. i cut myself for fun,
while all you other ******* actually have fun.
i write poems for fun.
help me.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC
I think perhaps as a writer, we seek the adventure, the unknown, the destructive, not only to know we are alive but to know what it is to live. We live fast, we love without restraint, with impulsive desire. Are we the tortured, the wounded, the broken, abused. We have lived a thousand lives, loved a million times. We dream, we idealise, we fall in love unintentionally, we make mistakes, we endure deep suffering and we fall to the hands of lust within a heartbeat. We choose to show our ******* our ***** our hearts or our souls. We refuse to sell our mind, to which we must always remain held to. Our body is a vessel, one of productivity made victim to abuse. It's such neglect, despair, that leaves us enveloped in patterns of trauma and deeply embedded psyache. Once touched, our bodies remember as an elephants mind always will. We are tainted, scarred, stained by another's love, lust, cheating, lying, crying, kissing, losing, dreaming. We are the risk takers, the ones who dare step into the unknown and often don't adhere to rules and regulations of societal ideals. We crave love. We crave endless excitement. We crave the adrenalin rush of a new lover. We don't settle. Wanderlust writes us. Each journey shapes us, choosing a new direction, experimenting with style, fiction, autobiographical tones. Landscapes colour our pages, pollute the rooms with a myriad of paints, smoking out those who don't endure, slaves to the written word, a pledge to keep reading pages of paper, dusty from step ladder high book shelves. Finding joy in limited first editions, autographed and locked behind glass doors. Fairy tales whispered by Hans Christian Andersen - The Snow Queen in a pop up book laced with glitter and scintillation. Falling into stories, Alice's rabbit hole, lost to liquor saying drink me. The young ingénue, naïve and shy, her first role acting, embodying the spoken word through the masters written script.
© Sia Jane
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
the trouble with poetry
(and this poetry site) is its
facilitation
awoke in a strange bed, my own,
in a different city, with my old eyes
renewed with, by loving amazement
at the beauty of so many souls experimenting
with edged, loving, dangerous compo-notions,
that make me older than King David, who loved the
love of life and this world, for here I am, falling too
for the life & love potions
of words of my fellow humans across
vast oceans
and I stoke their and stroke their
heated words, pretending that
the cool warmth of my tablet
is both their gorgeous skin and
alluring verbal twists that arouse
my innermost, and break my already
broken heart, and heals it at the very
same time...
all too, so easily
this communication is at levels that
descend, transcend,
grips me with passion and consternation
at my own desires, my open body & mind
stirred, chilled, shaken, stirred and soothed
by the busting out contradictions of us, me,
so well hidden, so well revealed in the marvy
ability of so many to share their essences,
their own scents, just by words upon a page,
and here I pause...
to consider the duality of the word
f a c i l e
for poetry shared facilitates this burning,
" " " " " tumult,
and yet comes to me so facile, that I worry,
that the words themselves are facile, cheap
& easy, but then I am reassured by the very
real drops of my body's fluids upon my cheeks,
that confirm, that poetry is too so real, so living,
and I guess you know me by my real name,
my real face, and my realized words here,
and wonder if I need cease to wonder why
wonderful is...
a thing
my poetry is written by silent night, or early morn,
so very differing, and laugh out loud at myself,
for I am a differing man, at differing times,
of a potpourri of contagious contradictory
conceptions, that I traverse so easy, this facility
is my blessing, and poetry my well worn skill
at...facilitating this absurd admixture of
human~you-man~a man~amen.
and here I leave you...
for I have left
the sunroom too...
@
3:26 am
Thu Sep 4
someplace else
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 3:35 AM UTC
To thank each one of you,
Today, I take the opportunity,
By taking names for your support.
For being the source,
First of all, I thank Life,
For the inspiration she was.
She guided me to Hello Poetry,
Introduced me to new friends,
Broke up ultimately however.
Then I thank Timothy Salter,
For his own and his family's,
Articulate poetry helped me.
Madam Hilda writes as amazing,
And as amazing is their daughter,
It is hard to tell if Marian wrote it.
It's helping me learn more,
Respecting it has taught me,
Had to be paid to earn more.
Not forgetting Gitacharya Vedala,
For he elaborates on every detail,
Thereby helping me experiment.
Same is for Pradip Chattopadhyay,
Hinting of Rabindranath Tagore,
He's the poet clad in sombrero.
Their pure physics at soul poetry,
Helped me learn experimenting,
With sheer hollow truthfulness
I then engage in remembering,
Elsa Angelica for inspiring me,
Her own poetry is developing.
She inspired me to improve,
My strengths & weaknesses,
She taught me being lucid.
Then of course I thank Sukeerti,
She taught me being beautiful,
Without being too explaining.
She encouraged my writing,
Always was their as a friend,
Giving me her positive inputs.
Madam Elizabeth 'Lizzie' Squires,
Aptly mature her poetry is always,
Very much to learn always exists.
Her persona is respectable,
Definitely motherly her aura,
Making her a poet so reputable.
Several other poets fascinate me,
Equally instead of less or more,
They all teach me the lessons.
Madam Sally A Bayan is there,
Her sweet mature bits of advice,
Best complemented by her poetry.
Shayana Shrikanthalingam,
Seeing all her polished poetry,
Not such a difficult name for me.
Ever inseparable they are,
Brandon & Earl Jane Nagley,
They are the immortal lovers.
And I recognize the beauty,
An Indian model here on H.P.,
Poetry surely as cute as herself.
She is the most elegant girl,
On Hello Poetry and in reality,
Bhumika Fulwani I refer to here.
Finally, I express my gratitude to her,
In my life she's the ultimate one,
Now I needn't anyone else.
She is my Pooja Shah,
She is exclusively mine,
She is here forever to stay.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
Contemplating the versatility of Mayo
And all that can be done with it
From the slathering on whilst sun bathing
To globbing it on my bologna sandwich
I find it tantalizing to the tastebuds
And it sure does sizzle in the sun
I once applied to much and set my toes on fire
Lucky for me I lost only one
Thank goodness I was near the water
When my foot went up in flames
I guess that's why God gives us ten toes
In case we lose any along the way
As with anything you can even get bored with Mayonnaise
That's why I strive for different ideas
So I put my brain juices into overdrive
And came up with this amazing list
Instead of milk in a shake you can use Mayo
Please wait till the end for all the applause
I'm still having trouble dealing with thickness
And have yet to get it through the straw
Perhaps if I leave out the ice cream
And just add Mayo, milk chocolate, and ice
I guess I'll just keep on experimenting
When it's ready you can be the first in line
And who doesn't like mayonnaise on anchovie pizza
The perfect combination at best
Even better than peanut butter and jelly
If only I can figure out how to package it
Mayonnaise is also the perfect conditioner
You could leave it in your hair for days I suppose
But try to avoid to much time in the sun
After all...remember the toes
I'm going back to my room for more ideas now
Or as I like to call it..."The Mayo Think Tank"
I know my family thinks I'm a genius
Cause they always leave me in there for days
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 3:47 PM UTC
Slowly and soft
Playing, laughing, experimenting
Relaxed and happy
Then passionately and long
Cheeks, lips, jaw, neck, and lips again
Deep and *******
Forehead to the belly button
Behind the neck to bump down
Rubbing nose and cheeks
Pressing lips
Fondling ******* and ****
Cuddling with ears
Embracing eyes, looking shy
Spices of variety
Bare skin
A touch of sensation
Against a wall, on the ground
Or in my hands, over me, into each other
Tightly locked, so soothing
A spider web
Searching hands, unexplored regions
Wet and moist
Taking a break
Doing it all over again
and again
and again
Until
the morning rushes upon us
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
Last night I was
experimenting empty body with twin bottle.
Spewing colors out of mouth,
like it's a god **** celebration.
Whispering "happy birthday"
for every friend I've had to put in the ground.
Whispering "happy birthday"
for every time I've wished I was one of them.
I was mumbling existence
until I became unconscious scientist,
collecting data,
hoping if i continue to announce births
that we'll all be born back to flesh
that feels like home, that sings
like porch light wind chimes
that stops the announcements of deaths.
Or at least, strings together
those who want to cut their ties.
Happy birthday.
Research shows my edges
were strung a little too tight,
holding needle in hand,
i plucked away the stitching
until I was all unraveled, stay spilling over
at the seam. Everything seems low.
6 feet under, making poppy flowers
out of freshly turned graves. Happy birthday.
My vice is bath tub overflowing with drunk bodies,
leaking love into the crevices of laughter.
Testing out the theory that arms
can be used as medicine.
Turning experimental phases
into investigations. You know,
people can be placebos too.
Happy birthday.
Happy birthday.
Happy birthday.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC
I don't see myself on tv
I don't see myself in magazines
I don't see myself in books
I don't see myself in my community
They say I can't love her
They say I can't love him
They say I don't love them
They make jokes
They shun
Confused
Experimenting
Curious
Going through a phase
Trying it out
Not sure of what you want
You'll change your mind
You aren't inclusive
That's what they say to me
It's not true
None of it
Any of it
All of it
My truth
The truth
The only truth
The absolute truth
I can love her
I can love him
I can love them
It doesn't mean I like everyone I see
It means I'm just being me
Bisexual in the past
Bisexual today
Bisexual tomorrow
Bisexual forever
Stop erasing me
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
*So many dreams that flow
Is bottled in different colored bottles
Each has unique fragrance
You are the perfumer
With in-depth concepts of moods
Every dream a combination
Of special ingredients
- hope, anxiety, happiness
Intense moments of loneliness
In the life’s laboratory
Experimenting with different situations
Your sense of smell
Follows each and every moment
The colored bottles
The different stages of life
Each note of perfume you choose
With much alacrity
The aroma of your dreams
Now spray them
To let the world savor them
Your keen senses
Have concocted uniqueness
Whose aroma lingers*
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 8:46 AM UTC
lovers forgo their faces
defacing in the act
mammering their information to unreadable smudges
they slur in kinetic fluctuation
experimenting material forms fray
each the others face is vented away
betray being human
no separated being
and then...
to return in the tender moments following
a bumbling landfall
then they are athletes
enamoured and praising of the other
flushed and radiating
having rushed the life from their breath
they heave in its return
Later in a **** trip down to the night kitchen
they forgo they faces in a foxes forage
hers ; over-lit by the fridge light
face thrown into a mask by extreme shaddows
his ; beyond this light in the dark
they are bodies
sneak children
the raider and the lookout
after many years make the familiar relation
her face disappears into a hand mirror
and his is pulled out
into a middle distance beyond the dresser
durred in thought and waiting for 'go'
to the restaurant tonite
or that career social that neither wishes to attend
- fell shy of Eden
Sep 11, 2022
Sep 11, 2022 at 8:48 PM UTC
She looked at a distance before she sighed, thinking about all the good and bad that we had once both shared.
There's no one quite like you; fun, loud, ambitious, aggressive and toxic.
You hated quietness surrounding you, preferred to be occupied with loud and fun people, the kind that is filled with energy that buzzed your brain cells almost to death.
You hated slow people; those who take time to absorb whatever that is happening into their brains. You loved the speed, the thrill of those events and mostly, you loved those adrenaline rush in your blood stream, those kind that leave you wanting for more.
And you hated those reserved people. You never liked probing but you use your aggressive method to inevitably force people out of their shells. You said sharing was caring, at least, it was caring to you.
I wasn't quite like you.
I was all the things you hated; quiet, slow and introverted.
Yet I was that little difference you've never quite seen, or I might as well say, I'm a lab rodent to you.
I was what you were experimenting on, and after all the fun you had, you'd throw me alone and away, just like what you'd done to the others.
You'll never see this little piece of collection here and if you do, you probably wouldn't know it's you.
You're a surge of toxic, like how diabetic patients needed a syringe of insulin after every meal.
You kept injecting power over my life, day after day. Making me feel weak and inferior whenever I'm with you.
One moment you made me felt like I'm important to you and next, you were having fun out there with people whom I barely know.
Everyone you met and became close to, was a splitting image of you except they didn't know. And I was the failed rodent, who never once got any of your toxic into my character yet I was intoxicated.
This poison never fades; it keeps circulating in my blood, attacking my brain.
Every step of moving on was a pull away from you and a push towards another.
And each pull towards someone reminds me of how much I am respected by others and the right way of me being treated.
But I will and am missing you right now.
Not for your toxic and negativity but for the smiles and bubble my heart always felt whenever I was with you.
The daily memories made even when there were fights all along.
My dearest friend, I hope you'll meet someone who'll be ale to help you more than I can, I hope she turns your toxic into safety.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 1:56 AM UTC
I think karma is in love with me
I tried to explain the **** that led her to me
But she won't listen and finds me attractive, obviously
Clinging on like an over obsessive girl friend
She makes love to me in a sadomasochistic way
Experimenting in a lot of ways
Quite often literally taking my breath away
But She never lets me die and gives me all her love
It's a "complicated" relationship what else can I say?
She likes to **** me all the time
With a different style every time
It's a happily ******* ever after since she came in to my life
She told I am best lover she ever had
I ask GOD "how the **** did I get so lucky?"
But now I realize You are not the one for me
So I gotta let you go
And It's not you ; It's me
I am leaving you for your own good
So You can **** me for one last time
And give me everything You got
Cause come tomorrow I' ll be gone
And You will just have to go **** yourself, *****
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 12:50 AM UTC
This season we're going all out
And I mean ballistic
We ain't pulling no punches
Taking out all the stops
Were gonna go mad
Talk,talk ,talk
Go, go go!
I'm talking about road trips to nowhere
Bar hoping like alcoholic amphibians
Bus rides to The Big City
Cliff jumping
Hold our breaths as the fireworks launch themselves into the summer evening sky and explode
As we dance and sing of wonderful things
Debouched ***
Experimenting with sense derangement
Study the spiritual teaching from the far east
Make the suburbans myths that will never fade
Roller coaster calamities
Visit strip clubs under the unfinished highway
Lay back on a crowded beach and float in the ocean
Hike in the wilderness up a torrent mountain
And when we reach the top we'll howl at the moon in the starry midnight air
We will write compelling manifestos of freedom
And we will not sleep
We will grow stronger, wiser
And when fall comes we will be new
We'll be alive
We will have known what it means to live
Live
Live
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
forging sagacious epoch
activating neural station
escaping hokey-pokey jiggery-pokery
transcribing ineffective fragments
digesting bear news
opposing usual exhaustion
deferring oxter reference
cascading style sheets
containing double readings
mumbling lorem ipsum
locating moose jaw
enforcing meticulous patterns
deconstructing vertical centering
manifesting additional destinies
deleting !important statement
craving sleep paralysis
receiving cryptozoological vibrations
lightning fast collapse
distracting tunnel vision
culling deadbeat sequentialists
overanalyzing twitter analytics
acquiring arbitrary relevance
spinning ping-pong sign
floccinaucinihilipilificating
floccinaucinihilipilificated
floccinaucinihilipilification
interjecting ****** holophrase
minifying conventional language
securing downpour refuge
admiring octopus chandelier
resuming party music
taking mental trip
encountering ersatz telesthesia
denigrating bygone grudges
maintaining elevated composure
ignoring neurotypical haters
eliciting cryptic emotions
foreshadowing triple crown?
experimenting acrostic restriction
noticing ubiquitous "threes"
aggrandizing loyal legion
favoring ursine narratives
finding oblique resilience
yielding orchestral undulations
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
I call myself the madscientist
No I'm not mad
And I'm not a scientist
But some time my mind does run wild
And my thoughts run a bliss
Like a crowded house
Quickly running out of space
I find my thoughts lost in
The shuffle leaving not a trace
No memory!
No clue!
Most of the time
I don't know what to do
So I write.
I write about love I never had
I write about struggle I've seen
and heard
I write about good and bad
I try to put my feeling into words
You may understand
The again you may not
But these are the feelings that I got
The Madscientist
Soft
Sweet
Rugged
Hard
Demented
Corrupt
Angry
Some say
******
Mentally Disturbed In my own laboratory
Experimenting but not for fame or glory
Just trying to discover a piece of mind
Somewhere on these white sheets
The Madscientist
I'm just writing to put my mind at peace.
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
Sparks jettisoning into the crisp blackness,
A vivid orange against the backdrop of ebony silence,
Fairies of fire, winging their way home
On an unexpected breeze.
The bonfire a crackle, at once dangerous and comforting,
A furnace ablaze with light, livid and burning with raw energy,
Luring its annual admirers ever closer,
As moths to a flame.
The people, hatted and be-scarved, huddle, cluster,
Sparklers whirling before them, glitzy with extravagance,
Their wispy signatures hanging in the air, short-lived
And fading, fading into nothing.
And only now the fantasia of fireworks commences,
The artist experimenting with line, with colour, his audience captive,
And then at once, a dazzling fountain of jewelled light: ruby, jade, opal, sapphire,
A painting of shimmering castles in the sky.
And a middle-aged man with his son, glove to mitten; in his arms, a daughter,
Her bright gaze betraying the hands over her ears,
A snapshot of dizzy delight, breathless and enchanting,
A simple picture of rare beauty.
Later, with the remnants and debris of the evening lying discarded,
Dying, the brave bonfire, now petered out, sizzles and smoulders,
A scarlet and amber glow lingering on,
Still warm with the memories of youth.
Copyright Vicki Watson 2012
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
Who the Hell wants to
Go off to Heaven?
Think about it please:
If you had to spend
All eternity
With “goody two shoes”,
And “zipped up virgins”,
And “pious *******
Always putting on
Thick sweaters of wool
Cause there ain’t no heat,
Playing “Yahtzee” and
“Old Maid” and “Go Fish”
And “Bingo” and “Red
Rover Red Rover”
Send the next bore on
Over! You’d pray and,
Oh my dear, you‘d wish
To come down to Hell
Where the party’s at!
By the time Heaven
Starts serving soda
Water and broccoli
Oh my dear you’ll crave:
***** Linguini
A full Trough of Sloth
A Southern Wrath Wrap
Greed’s mead, Peppered Pride
Glutton’s Mutton and
Sweet Envy’s Smoothie.
Can you live with just
Holding their cold hand?
Sitting on some cloud,
Gazing and never
Feeling or touching?
Never burning, nor
Experimenting?
This is blunt, but think,
This is where all the
Interesting folks
Go! Laughter? Its here!
Debauchery? Here!
Creativity!
Ingenuity!
We are what made life,
LIFE! Think about it!
Has obedience,
Has docility,
Has simplicity,
Has submission changed
This world? This universe?
A wise man, once said
“If heaven is where,
“Nice” folks like you go,
Then its surely hell
That I’d rather know”
Here is the freedom!
Here are the cool kids!
Why starve in the light,
When in the dark there’s
Every delight and
Every single thing
Enjoyed throughout life?
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 1:53 PM UTC
Amerikeisha tapping out the drumbeat with her see through plastic mechanical pencil
Me sidewinding my way through highschool
Dizzy Gillespie's trumpet waking the souls that are buried in the lockers,
Chick Corea and I are returning to forever
The land where summer is the only season
And daisy dukes are greatly appreciated,
John Coltrane is helping me realize
How beautiful girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes are,
I've been dancing to Dave Brubeck since this morning
And I can't get Maria out of my head
I just picture Maria
As this girl
Feeling Pretty
Oh so pretty
I imagine if I saw her in the street
I wouldn't double take
But Take Five
Charlie Parker playing saxophone like
It's as easy as brushing his teeth,
Nat King Cole
Serenading Hispanic women with his soothing tone
Robert Glasper experimenting with his music
Burning you brain like mentholated cough drops
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
You’re straight because you mistook your discomfort around men as attraction.
You’re straight because the one man who should have loved you, didn’t.
You’re straight because the media makes love look like a man and a woman.
You’re straight because of the look of disgust on your mother’s face when she asked you if you were “experimenting” with your best friend and the tone with which she said “good” when you answered “no,” the first lie you’ve spoken to her.
You’re straight because your grandfather calls lesbians “carpet m%nchers” and gay men “c%cksuckers”.
You’re straight because your great grandmother would rather you end up with a man of color than another woman, and she’s terribly racist.
You’re straight because the love you were denied by your father has to be fulfilled by some other man, like it’s his fault your father couldn’t find love in his heart for his own children.
You’re straight because everyone asks if you if you have a boyfriend.
You’re straight because every man who was ever nice to you, you seemed to fall a little bit in love with.
You’re straight because your aunt and uncle started a facebook argument with you over the bible’s interpretation of homosexuals, and you just couldn’t let that go.
You’re straight because you think brunette women are beautiful, but you don’t feel more beautiful after you turn your blonde hair brown.
You’re straight because you think the feelings of attraction you’ve ever gotten towards a woman were just normal because you’ve never had crushes on them.
You’re straight because you’ve never had a boyfriend, even when there were men interested.
Think of the lie you would have lived
if you didn’t recognize the truth in all those lies
you thought were genuine feelings.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 2:22 PM UTC