"extras" poems
Life is a movie and men are really actors.
Some get the lead role, while others are just extras.
It's a hierarchy,
you got the over zealous ****** on top and ******* below.
If you can sell your soul, you'll make headlines.
Get paid.
Buy a steak or something.
Care only about yourself and **** everybody else over, in whatever position you'd like ;)
.Fight ***** or don't fight at all.
Sucker punch the Devil for trickin' you and book it.
Run, run fast, like the cops are after you.
Shit's about to go down.
It's Irony, in his emmy winning role!
Shameful that "The laws" are just dyslexic interpretations of petty rules anyways.
Use logic, not obedience
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 3:01 AM UTC
by God, I don't know what to
do.
they're so nice to have around.
they have a way of playing with
the *****
and looking at the **** very
seriously
turning it
tweeking it
examining each part
as their long hair falls on
your belly.
it's not the ******* and *******
alone that reaches into a man
and softens him, it's the extras,
it's all the extras.
now it's raining tonight
and there's nobody
they are elsewhere
examining things
in new bedrooms
in new moods
or maybe in old
bedrooms.
anyhow, it's raining tonight,
on hell of a dashing, pouring
rain....
very little to do.
I've read the newspaper
paid the gas bill
the electric co.
the phone bill.
it keeps raining.
they soften a man
and then let him swim
in his own juice.
I need an old-fashioned *****
at the door tonight
closing her green umbrella,
drops her green umbrella,
drops of moonlit rain on her
purse, saying **** man,
can't you get better music
than that on your radio?
and turn up the heat..."
it's always when a man's swollen
with love and everything
else
that keeps raining
splattering
flooding
rain
good for the trees and the
grass and the air...
good for things that
live alone.
I would give anything
for a female's hand on me
tonight.
they soften a man and
then leave him
listening to the rain.
7.5k
Brownies,
more brownies,
never can have enough.
Dont you dare ruin my brownies
with peacans or walnuts.
Chocolate goodness in handheld bites.
A brownie filled brownie,
sounds so right.
No icing, no extras,
Just chocolate times ten!
If you have had a today brownies,
then your day is a win.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC
I Will Never Give Up on You
By: Miranda Martinez-Perez
I've been to a place "they" would consider "the top,"
And it felt great... that was.. until I fell.
It was a long way down. Would it hurt? I thought not;
And I was wrong, cause it hurt like H*ll.
I've hit rock bottom with an awful THUD.
Took me a while to realize I was still alive.
I wondered if it'd even be worth it to get back up..
Then pondered if I should just accept this is how I would die.
But something inside of me wasn't ready to fail.
I wasn't ready to give up the fight.
In my mental prison, I chose to make bail.
I can't change my wrongs, but I can make them right.
So I got up, though it took all that I had left inside,
Went to that place that for so long I feared.
I knew the first one with whom I had to make things right,
that one was the one looking back in the mirror.
"I'm sorry," I said, "your expectations were not too much.
I admit I've just let myself get in the way.
I never took it into consideration that I alone am enough.
And all the extras in life were only for show and play.
You are perfect, I love you, and I am going to change.
I don't deserve for you to believe me, but I swear it's true."
The response I got.. I never expected to hear MYSELF say..
That was, "I will never give up on you."
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 4:22 AM UTC
Her warm words wash over me like a dope fiend daze... other voices boorishly buzz a cackle cacophony. At best they are the background noise of your existence.
bit players (endless layers) as she comes my way
**Your body pixilates in an ******* focus**, it bends, projects all else slowly into your frame, the deja vu of ****** tunnel vision. I struggle to speak as I stand before you.
All others condemned, reduced to extras in a celluloid daydream
they are arrayed for your adornment
set pieces that surround you in the cinema that is your daily divine saunter
body sacramental (those around you incidental) as she walks away
The subtext, the reflex, the ambivalent, ambient lighting
means nothing without you
**my arc, my carnal ******
any other epilogue is dystopian
cdh
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 5:25 AM UTC
1. She’ll be lovely. There will be spaces for you between her ribs. Your left lung is smaller than you right lung to make room for your heart, but there’s all kinds of room in her body. Her kidneys and liver are failing and soon enough they’ll be gone to make room for your love.
2. She won’t ever be expensive on dates because all she’ll order is a salad. You’ll never have to worry about not having enough money (for dinner at least). You’ll have to worry about emergency room bills when she passes out, but she’ll never ask for anything else. All she’ll want is ***** and sleeping pills.
3. She will always put you first. She’ll love you with all the love she should have kept for herself. She’ll make you hot chocolate and stay up until 3 AM while you’re crying over her. When she makes you cry because you just want her to see herself the way you see her, she’ll be there with cold hands and tired eyes. She’s dead, she’s exhausted, all she wants is a good night’s rest. But you can count on her to be there.
4. She will tell you that you are perfect. She’ll believe it, too. Everyone around her seems to be perfect and she’s drowning under the weight of mediocrity but it’s okay. She’s okay. She won’t understand that all of us are swimming and most of us are drowning.
5. She’ll always have scissors and pencil sharpeners on hand. The knives in her kitchen are always sharpened to perfection and if you forget your razor at home, it’s ok. She has extras in her closet.
6. She’ll **** you any time you want. As long as you don’t look at her while she’s getting undressed. She’ll be used to the sensation of knives but it’s a different kind of pain when you look at her. She will want to be beautiful for you. She’ll love you until she can’t breathe anymore. You’ll make her feel beautiful for the night but when she wakes up she’ll still think she wasn’t worth it.
7. Date a girl who hates herself because she’ll love you.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 7:41 PM UTC
Average-joe protagonist wipes beer glasses
at the helm of his sports bar, blissfully ignorant
of the imminent laughable tragedy. Clouds circle,
and there's that obligatory radio broadcast,
the one that warns of inclement weather-
rainy, with a chance of Selachimorpha.
You hum the Jaws theme, tracing pickup lines
on the skin of my back, while sharks pour from the sky,
the improbable tornado dropping great whites
on the California shoreline. One arm curled
around my waist, you tickle erratically
until I squirm away, only to creep back again,
and put my head in the mouth of the sand tiger,
wandering too close to the edge of the water, foolish,
but this is a b-movie, we swam out too far
knowing how it would end. The extras
scream and scatter, arms flailing,
going through the motions of surprise,
stumbling in their scripted attempts
to flee the inevitable. Predictably,
they fall. We all fall, and the girl trapped
in the hammerhead's belly
has this peaceful expression,
as if she can't quite remember why
she ran away in the first place.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
I needed to do some shopping
On poem ideas I was running low
So I checked out the local flyer
To the downtown poet store
Just to see what they had on sale
Some of my friends they call me cheap
But why pay full price if you don't have to
On all the rhyming words I need
The front page slapped me in the face
With the Spring Cleaning Sale Galore
Everything I needed was half price
So I headed straight to the store
I ventured up and down the isles
Filling my basket with the best of rhyme
Getting a few extras of every word
So I'd have them when the time was right
I stocked up on love and encouragement
The right words I carefully chose
Because in my experience
You can never have to many of those
I even took a few from the back
Down a darkened isle where the lights were low
Being a poet my mood can rapidly change
And what words I might need you never know
With my basket full of wonder
I felt my day of shopping done
Confidant and ready
To go home and continue writing poems
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 5:23 PM UTC
The beauty of watching cars drive past on a busy street is
inexplicable.
When you're walking along,
You barely notice them
But,
In every car, there is a person with
thoughts,
and feelings,
and a life just as complicated and meaningful
as yours.
You see them once, and then they're gone.
Every day, we see so many people
that we never stop to notice.
They, like extras in a movie,
are the background in our
seemingly mundane adventures.
This arrangement is only acceptable
because that is exactly
what we are to them.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC
When you do stand
so close, so bare
fingers weaving through
my filaments of hair.
When you do inhale
the extras and the
uncensored imperfections
When you do break
thus incandescent sweat
that shivers from yours to mine
I do hope you may see
The love and trust
and compassion felt
that you could find in me.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:26 PM UTC
instagram
my dear friend
i miss you
like a crack addict misses crack
i am in AA
on the emergency table i lay, frail
i feel my internal workings coming undone
i am locked out of the fun
i am tempted by my insatiable lust to run
run and run from myself
perceptions of moi
that i have conjured and cooked
laced extras with the crack, microwave
the crack, a transplant for my identity
expand myself for the many
so i could sell more
more of me in exchange
for love, the eternal currency
the currency i seek
on some level the extras i laundered
became me
identification with the mask
i have trapped myself between the future
and the past.
how long can this last?
Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 6:33 AM UTC
By some Remove privy to self-preservation's
extras...to be, or not to be had...beached, I've
been...electromagnetically torn asunder!
Odd sounds do, and do come in and out...
a crackly chirp singing the foundations of worlds.
The melancholia of space junk stuck to a mind of
distance...hoards copious amounts of love-filled
forgetfulness.
Bye...bye...Buddha, in all your "suchness"...bye...
bye...letting go is the only Way.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
1. She’ll be lovely. You’ll be able to count the spaces in between her ribs. She’ll have thin skin and it’ll be so easy to drive her crazy with just a single touch. It’ll be easy to make your mark on her, too. She’ll bruise easy and love it. She’ll think it’s beautiful.
2. She won’t ever be expensive on dates because all she’ll order is a salad. You’ll never have to worry about her ordering an expensive steak. You might have to worry about emergency room bills when she passes out, but she’ll never ask for anything else. All she’ll want is ***** and sleeping pills.
3. She will always put you first. Your needs always come before hers because she was raised “God first, others second, I am third”. She’ll make you hot chocolate and drive to your house at 3 AM with pizza she won’t eat, even though she’s dead tired and all she wants is a good night’s rest. You can count on her to be there.
4. She will tell you that you are perfect. She’ll believe it, too. Everyone around her seems to be perfect and she’s drowning under the weight of mediocrity but it’s ok as long as you know how perfect you are.
5. She’ll always have scissors and pencil sharpeners on hand. The knives in her kitchen are always sharpened to perfection and if you forget your razor at home, it’s ok. She has extras in her closet.
6. She’ll **** you anytime you want. As long as you don’t look at her while she’s getting undressed, she’ll love you until she can’t breathe anymore. She’ll smile as you kiss her thighs because you’re the only one that makes her feel beautiful.
7. Date a girl who hates herself because she’ll love you.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
everyone's dying and all I can do is scream at the top of my lungs and wait for the bathroom light to burn out so we can use up all the extras we bought for the apocalypse that's never going to happen
and we smoke too many cigarettes in the house and everything is kind of yellow and you can't see yourself in the mirror proper but the stains on the couch and the carpet and the bed sheets seem to do the trick just as well
and we stay up too late and see more of the moon than the sun but we talk about our dreams like it hasn't been six months since we last saw a sunrise
and the floor is made of dust and ash but we never fall through when the blinds are closed and you carve the notches in the bedpost too deep and the bed collapses beneath us again
and the traffic never stops and the snow never melts cause it's always cold here but we burn the newspapers and our old science textbooks to keep warm and I couldn't even tell you what month it is now
but this morning I opened my eyes and read what the walls have been writing for months and we climbed up on ladders and smashed the ceiling.
we made a skylight and watched the sun rise
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC
I'm drinking young, as my body gets older,
three girls, and immature conversation on a long sofa.
The drinks get colder, and colder, my chest gets warmer;
on whiskey shots with no body armour.
I taste a sound, and smell a colour of doing in my head
over social trends,
Partying with people who aren't really my friends.
My bladder feels like a knife tip on my hanging joys,
Taking long pees, and taking chances with any girl; when I've
got the confidence of the boys.
Disco lights under the party life, a quick mix to dilute my
drink with some sprite.
Not something I love, but I'm learning to like.
Hype me up with cheers, line out my favourite gin, and
put aside those heavy beers.
I've got a sweet tongue for fun, a mix of sweetness and
alcohol like my favourite chocolate. Raisin and ***
Too scared to cough; I might just throw up,
but I can't seem weak; so I'll just bro up.
Acting proud while yelling, "another cup"
I pass out, and wake up in a house that's not my house.
In a bed wrapped in a pink fluffy towel.
The someone by my side, if I can remember wasn't too
hot; but sort of mild.
By my skin marks; she seemed a little wild.
But I notice a wig on a mannequin head,
I peep to see that it wasn't the same girl from last night
lying besides me, on that bed.
She had her extras off on the dressing room table display,
She woke up saying, "good morning bae," and I went on exclaiming, "eeeyy"
She offered me breakfast, but I decided it was best
to break fast out of there.
She begged me to stay, as her one charming prince,
but you know I didn't even care.
I wasn't too sure which neighbourhood I wound up;
but it was rather me getting **** in unfamiliar corners,
then getting bound up.
Tied up in a relationship that I never signed up to.
Maybe I had too much to drink... with both drinks and her
kisses by the mouthful.
How the story goes, and soon ends,
All in the story of events.
Apr 21, 2022
Apr 21, 2022 at 3:38 PM UTC
**
Who notices prepositions
unless they dangle
like earrings
begging the spotlight.
They act
like auditioning extras
or photo-bombers.
Of the people, for the people, by the people,
what does that even mean
when we, the people
are simply people
trying out humanity.
My nephew goes blah blah blah,
which is cute and could
mean anything when
spoken randomly _ an 18-month old,
like prepositions
_ the people:
_ God, we trust.
**
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 3:51 AM UTC
The warble frocks and debutantes,
Soprano trilling nightingales,
The extras dressed as elephants
And tenors with their penguin tails;
They mingle at the opera house
With canapés on silver trays;
Then dine on pigeon, goose and grouse,
To reminisce their finest plays;
When Romeo found Juliet
The crowds were on their feet for days,
When mighty Caesar’s end was met,
The press regaled with highest praise;
Such fine upstanding citizens,
So crisply draped, so brightly gowned;
The marvel of these denizens,
So rarely seen, so well renowned.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 2:29 AM UTC
We were in your car,
I was wearing yellow see-through underwear
and you still had all your clothes on. The idea
of taking all mine off made you nervous.
I could tell by the amount of times you snapped
my skin while your embarrassed fingers tried
to take off my bra.
I could hear the cicadas outside when your heavy
breathing was masked by my own mouth covering
yours. My hair, that had once been in a well-brushed
bun, stuck to my temples, forehead and back of the neck,
where I got chills thinking about what we were doing.
I took off your plain white t-shirt and you hit
your head on the roof of your forest green Saturn.
Now I just keep thinking about your loud fan creaking
through your ceiling. How in the dark, we pull at each
other’s bodies under a heavy comforter, with no sheet.
There are too many pillows on your bed. A detail I once found
endearing, convinced you held onto them when you missed me.
But even with my back turned to you, front facing the wall, you
held on to those stupid pillows while I kicked the extras onto the floor.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 11:27 PM UTC
ok
the minute it takes..
to trace the call,
to ducktape the suspects ******* face,
is the same minute a family home explodes in a cross section cutscene like 24.
more prisoners escape,
****** pretty, but they're spies.
suckers got forks stuck in their eyes.
the trucker died, his hat now a subtle disguise.
soft talk and the novice gaurd complied.
I told the brass this whole ******* place needed modernised.
shot gun cabinets unlatched,
the last batch of canteen fat contained celephaned grendades.
outside it rains and mud slides thick as the chase vehicles flip onto their sides.
the helicopter follows a costumed imposter through the shadows of a suburban night.
people thrown out the way on the street like extras in a detective series.
"Freeze: get on your ******* knees"
"Ive got nothing to lose, ive got the the ******* hostage and im offering a trade off
don't ******* shoot,
or ill put a hole in this ***** bigger than you can fix pig, twitching at the trigger,listen quick
take a step back or ill do it, push me piece of **** cop".
blood on the concrete runs thin as it navigates and mixes with no forgiveness or mission.
track back until the dead are insect sized, centred in the wide shot of the city, wait a beat then credits rise.
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 10:52 AM UTC
Attuned.
Those whose thoughts have not sprung
from the cadence of waves
will never know songs that were ancient
when all the now agéd were young.
Those whose respect the vast ocean
accepts speak its tongue, sense
vagaries known only to weathered
faces turned to catch tidal motion.
Those whose minds are ocean-attuned,
gather storm-ebb's precocious
mood as weed's mineral wealth floats
in with extras like fresh crab food.
Those whose living has grown safer
with knowing sea-swell pictures
wave behaviour hear vague whispers
of sound-change in rising breakers.
Those who receive news of bad gales
before skies turn black have read
wisdom's past signs and hear sea-bed
rhythms not heard by strangers.
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 12:27 PM UTC
well it was the alternative to gregory isaac’s night nurse... but then the bouncer on the catwalk with flares... skidding up on a rhyme and cooling it with an edge of the appropriately cut fashion... chased it.
innit kamikaze (rap’s shortchange in shaken pears
for martini bond and chanced cockney slang in shakespeare,
all 90’s groove though)
lyric’o gangsters
in the mollusk slush
two’s up freed
with the sly sly s.o.s. sloth
chinning up to the chariots of nero’s double for portrait:
naa na na na na na na na na na na na na naa,
naa na na na na na na na na na na na na naa
(i miscounted... didn't i?) -
where kurt cobian’s yeah yeah yeah used to be
along with r.e.m.’s cowboy astronaut.
come mike jagger with me the liszt skeleton
of b & w’s worth of crescendos tipping lazy waitresses
with a toreador’s worth of breezy napkins folded, flapped and sneezed into -
i’ll be dumping my shadow into splits for extras to boot frying it in
the hiroshima of paparazzi’s blinking.
failures are worth other people’s success when playing the lyre to a burn out of capitals:
anyway, edinburgh is the ultimate cameo in the literary bloodline
begot by paris for the 20th century ultimatum of identity scripted.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
IN BED WITH STEPHEN KING
backstage: Romeo
tries it on
Juliet 'its 'im 'ard
the slap
shocks the extras
they pause mid-make-up
Juliet's received pronunciation
slips back into her native Cockney
Romeo told to go forth and multiply
anyway, Paris is
more her type and
oooh his *** in ahhhh...those tights
Romeo's...ughhh....halitosis
she winces with each kiss
taste of garlic...cheap cigarettes
an audience applauds
the curtain falls
glad to be just Jane again
she takes time
to un-Shakespeare her self
boy but she could ****** a kebab
Romeo: once again Andy
her ex & yes yes
she wants *** but...not with him
Paris: now Peter
gives her a saucy wnk
"Hmm!" she thinks "Hmmm!"
she imagines him
nakedly mad for her
sans tights...sans everything
alas that wink was
for Tybalt...god ****
another night in bed with
- Stephen King.
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 3:00 PM UTC
Slowly I fade away into the background to be forgotten
Bluntly dumped full of mold like I am rotten
I took a chance ….. I went ahead with fate’s plan…. I took a leap of faith
I think it’s now safe to say I now know what is pain…I now understand Cain
Life is a two faced ***** who will stab you in the back
Does not care whether you blue, green or black
At last, I got the memo; at last I get the picture because there was never one
Truth be told I never did belong… life treated me like a disposable material
Even some materials are recycled.. What about me then? Aint I that worth it?
I wish I could find someone who loves me for me…
Someone who does not sell me empty promises and then leave me dry, hanging and afraid of the world
Its funny enough I sought to the devil for refuge... …Was willing to shed blood to belong
But… but he too even dumped me! I look to the heavens for solace but I receive denunciation
They made me feel like there was nothing left of me
Am I wrong for wanting more? Am I a sinner for asking for acceptance?
My knees be blue and black from praying loud yet silent unanswered prayers
My heart bleeds as I illuminate a fake smile…my dark soul suffocates me
I gasp for air as if I am in a pit of hell. No… I am in hell
I search this world seeking where I could fit in….. but to no avail
I guess everyone does belong somewhere right? This god had a plan!
A well constructed script that included everyone even the unwanted extras
What about me then? That’s a question I ask as the heavens deny me placate
That’s my case against the world….. Because the world sold me a dream
A dream that was a blunt twisted lie because life proved me wrong
My blood runs cold with a chill
**** I think I might need that ecstasy pill
I put on my pride…… hell life took me for a **** ride! I now watch from the side
At last as I make my final choice …. To depart this earth...
This trap, this tunnel of horror with no glimpse of light
Dear too late... …. If ever this note reaches you ... In this exact moment when you read it
It then means at last you got what you wanted
At last you may never ever understand because... Because
You never really knew me….at last I just faded into the background
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC