"fallon" poems
I know that I will never marry Jimmy Fallon or Donald Glover or Joseph Gordon-Levitt.
I know that despite the myths, Brussels sprouts taste awesome.
I know that one too many tequila shots will automatically turn you into a philosopher.
I know that the sun sets in the East and rises in the West (or is it the other way around?)
I know that I am most happiest when I'm surrounded by amazing friends in the unseasonably warm March sun and a banjo is playing.
I know that a smile straightens everything out.
I know that although you can't forget the past, you can't let it dictate your future.
I know that having *** for the first time is weird, and so is ****
I know that my hair is golden, my eyes are blue and I will never be stick-thin as hard as I try.
I know that there are 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week and 12 months in a year. But it never seems to be enough time to figure out who you are.
I know that people come and go but those that love and care for you will stay glued next to you no matter what.
I know that as much as it hurts, you will get over love.
I know that I will never have the courage to rap publicly.
I know that Kim Kardashian's *** is most likely not real.
I know that travel truly broadens the mind.
I know that I'm insecure and over analytical and anxious and easily frustrated.
But I know that I'm also passionate and determined and a hopeless romantic and a picky eater and a restless sleeper.
And above all:
I know that when I look at you I see past your eyes.
I know that when you're around I smile wider and laugh louder and flip my hair more often.
I know I dress nicer to remind you how beautiful you think I am.
I know that I forget to inhale and that the butterfly on my shoulder has to fly up to my ear and remind me to breathe.
I know that I care about you more than anyone.
I know that I let you into every pore of my body, every opening: my heart, my head, my...
I know that I am willing to jump in with my whole body and risk being drenched in water for you.
I know that I can make you as happy as you make me
But I know that you're scared and vulnerable and hurt
But if I'm sure of anything (and mind you, I'm not sure of much)
I know that I will hurt and be afraid and breathe with you to make you love me.
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 2:53 AM UTC
Watching Trending videos on YouTube,
2 of the top ten videos are dead,
which means I’m watching ghosts,
having deja vu see it seems I’ve seen this scene before,
Rest In Peace Mac Miller,
Resit In Pease Xxxtentacion,
this spirits have be writing frantically,
going for gold or at least an honorable mention,
want to be anything except forgotten,
skin is fresh but core is rotten,
scent of cologne watching Post Malone,
give an interview on Jimmy Fallon,
seems we’ve fallen,
and our idols are a sign of where we’re at,
war never stopped it just changed forms,
from Germany to Vietnam to Iraq,
as the sun sets over San Francisco Bay,
I watch the colors run,
indifferent to the cause and the effect,
nothing’s perfect but the sky always looks so beautiful,
as I gaze out this bedroom window,
in a house I do not own,
just touched down from Australia,
back in The Bay for another round,
taking a moment to reflect,
in my feelings as the sun sets,
and it feels like we’ve seen it all,
even though we know we haven’t seen anything yet,
watching Trending videos on YouTube,
2 of the top ten videos are dead,
which means I’m watching ghosts,
having deja vu see it seems I’ve seen this scene before…
∆ LaLux ∆
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
I am the member of a one-man extremist army
That fights for the right to be (mis)understood.
I keep my gun tidy and all covered in a
crazy-ass knitted scarf.
I only shoot it when I’m alone in my head.
I always miss.
I fly below the human emotion radar and
Pray that someone will DVR my life
And binge watch it from the comfort of his/her dusty old couch,
Up in the attic, when nothing else is on TV and
Jimmy Fallon’s all tucked in his zebra pajamas.
I will climb the highest fountain
And whisper waterly in your transplanted ear:
“I am Vincent.. I am your yellow.. I am your ubiquitous sunflower..”
Just change the channel and the weather will do the same thing.
Bye bye bye, birdie! Bye bye bye, climate change!
I’m nothing but an echo’s echo.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 10:12 AM UTC
They call me 'fake',
Apparently too genuine for the masses to believe,
They grasp at any weapon,
To muddy the waters & deceive,
The Bible speaks of money,
And the lust it can incite,
They claw, destroy, froth at the mouth,
Morning, noon, & night.
How sad they cannot see,
More beauty in a single feather, fallen leaf upon the ground,
Simple treasures God created,
Worth more than any gemstone to be found.
Botox, fake ***** make-up by the gallon,
Ken & Barbie look-a-likes,
No thanks,
I'll take Marilyn & Jimmy Fallon.
Give me laugh lines, stories shared,
Later round a campfire, retold,
Calloused hands, scars, crevices,
Like vintage books,
Weather-worn, faded, old.
Nothing did we bring with us,
Nothing will we take,
Except our memories, cherished moments,
God's love, His promise,
His children, He will not forsake.
I'm just a simple artist,
Girl next door, no frills or bling,
Time, thoughtfulness, care, will win me over,
Surely not any earthly thing.
Point your fingers,
Kick dirt in my eyes,
The light within will stream through,
Despite all your vicious lies.
God is with me,
Whom shall I fear?
In time, He'll right all the wrongs,
I am his daughter,
Held precious, close, & dear.
The darkness came only to destroy,
But the light will forever prevail,
Jesus extends His hand upon a ship of gold,
Step on,
A new life...set sail.
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
life’s such a film
independent b movie
badly written
poorly edited
dialogue all too real.
starring me as the main character and
I am the producer
director
script writer
cameraman
and I plug it
to every Fallon out there.
and … scene
after his struggles,
the main character filters out
not in a blaze of glory
but noose in hand
rat poison and
Johnnie Walker on his breath.
He didn’t want to end up like his mom
but look at him now.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 6:31 AM UTC
Holy water into wine. Beer from barley.
Walking on the roof of a brewery,
Contemplating how Jimmy Fallon's
Finger never really seems to heal.
Combine harvester headlights dance
On the living room walls
As I lean back on my white IKEA
Sofa, tracing long hairs and
Fingerprints of lovers gone,
Wondering why I chose such a
Revealing colour.
Suppose the transparency matches
That of my soul's lining.
Holy water into wine.
Fields of gold now liquid painkillers
Slurring the voices in my head that
Pick fights with my heart over
Insignificant issues.
I lip synch to the music of my
Neglected talents and the memories
Of inspiration attached.
Bullets like knuckles rapping, rapping
At my empty chamber
Door.
Every finger I ever broke
Was from typing or
Punching
Walls.
Sometimes I put on the mask of
Poet, and pretend to be writing
For as long as it takes to fool
The empty pages.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 4:53 PM UTC
the curvaceous quality of a dreamy life,
the roller coaster, arms in the air,
screaming, I'm believing,
nah, not this time,
ain't ready yet,
dude, you just woke up!
drag a comb across my face,
getting on board,
a choice, me, ride up front,
the terror, a touch more tantalizing,
the romance, a hair more frantic,
the fullness of life, à la mode
eyes catch, I grin,
next step, bridal canopy,
but not until, she conditions,
I get me on late night tv,
me, Fallon and **** right,
together, recitating the Poem of the Day!
can't be that hard,
gonna dug up some text messages,
mush it and corn fry'em,
if that don't do the trick,
got me a twenty one gun salute,
word in reserve!
*Pick me!
got picket fence,
mortgage, student loans,
diamond ring,
all worthless
unless I get me HP's*
Poem of the Day!
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
What's better than tripping is falling in love
What's better than Letterman, Leno, Fallon, and all the above
What's better than popping bottles trying to ball in the club
Is the first caveman pops with his son, ball and a club
What's better than paper is ballin' it up
What's better than followers is actually fallin' in love
What's better than frolicking, follies, fallin' in mud
Rolling in green pastures, wanderin', followin' love
What's better than eating is feeding your fam
What's better than meetings is missing meetings to meet with your fam
What's better than leaning and needing a Xan
Is hitting your zan dreaming a dream could mean leaving the land
What's better than yelling is hollerin' love
What's better than rhymes, nickels, dimes and dollars and dubs
Is dialing up your darling just for callin' her up
It ain't nothing better than fallin' in love
IGH!
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 11:48 AM UTC
I just won a medal
I wasn’t in a war
I think it’s made of gold
I don’t know what it’s for.
I’m shocked at what it weighs.
They threw me a parade
I got an honorary degree
Jimmy Fallon had me on TV
now everyone recognizes me
My old friends told me I was fickle
by the paparazzi I became heckled
I was notified that it’s ‘taxable’
It seemed the medal was quite valuable
I became afraid that it might be stolen
so I donated it to the Smithsonian.
Now that I’m not wearing it
people have started to forget
now no one buys me drinks
or cares about what I think.
I’m no longer on the Wheaties box
fame was a drug and I’m in detox
The whole thing was bizarre,
should I do ‘Dancing with the Stars’?
or simply let it go - fadeout gracefully?
I think anonymity suits me.
Mar 29, 2024
Mar 29, 2024 at 10:04 PM UTC
When sky's come falling
Like a Fallon out of control
Lie down in its wrath
Taking all he has
As clouds are anything but pain
Lifting you in your feet again
In it's wake making your hunger
Free from suffrage
On days your stair flight
Flew you too close to the ground
When your fingers burned
By the light of both ends
What the last light left
As your breath
Blew out its last flame
And the reins take your light
By the thunders in the night
That send you to the forbidden
Corner of life
Did you call it fear
Because you were in
That silence of life
The one without words
Were there was no point of return
Only the black hole
Lay down it wont hurt
I promise and seal it with
My lips if Newton by then
Can he even exist
In a black turmoil
I call home
Welcome to my black hole
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
I stopped writing love poetry when I met you
It seemed a farce, writing something for years I thought unobtainable yet there you stood
Despite all odds I went against personal judgement and we made small talk for a few hours
You drove, introducing me to Brian Fallon songs I’d grow to attribute to our relationship
My thoughts had become consumed with your image yet nothing I could do would eventually prevent you from leaving
Time had been nothing but a blimp, we lived years through the minuscule moments we occupied the same space together
A lifetime of love crammed into a solid year and a half.
Love is undoubtedly heartbreaking when it leaves you,
Silence envelopes to be mailed out at will
You were my greatest love poem, but my words never did our magic justice.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
Hello, Poetry? Keith W Fletcher Poems Dec 2016 Back from the edge
It will soon mark 7 long silent filled years since the pain and depression that ended up inspiring this poem. During the band days of yesteryear we always had a chance to get together on this type of summer/ autumn holidays and raise hell and make noise and it was like a big family, so I repost this one here for whatever I can get out of it this time and for all that are ln need, for then (by all means) especially for you as well!
As if from out of nowhere Gnarled Twisted fingers With jagged rusting fingernails Reached out ... Grabbing me Dragging me... Back From going over the precipice Stopping the headlong tumble Into that deep dark echoless Abyss At that critical moment of complete systems failure ...When the call of the Void Seems impossible to deny Convinced That falling through the darkness Would seem as if I could fly Ive sensed that the siren song was calling to me As it had been all along So ,Just as I let Go ... Leaning in Relinquishing control Those wrinkled withered hands With the Twisted gnarled fingers And those rusted over fingernails Pulled me back... With Strength incomprehensible Freeing a Sinister scream of agony Pure pain and despair Ripping out and splitting the air As it rose up from the depths Of that deep Darkness... that Echoless void Someone had reached out... ... To save me So I turned to see who... it was That had pulled me back Wondering how it is... ... That they knew There was no one there Just the last fading remnants Of a shadow on the wall So I smile to the Fates As I gather paper and pen Making a note for my future Lest I ever forget and Tumble back in Then with withered and wrinkled hands I Hold Steady to the notepad With rusting fingernail adorned Twisted and gnarled fingers I begin A whole different flight As I begin to write Keith W Fletcher Written by Keith W Fletcher Oklahoma 490 naǧí, Ryn, Ami Shae, Keith Wilson, J Robert Fallon III, and 1 other Ami Shae Ami Shae Wow!!! This is one of the best writes I've ever read! Gives me hope! Thank you!!! 0 1 reply Dec 2016
Jul 4, 2019
Jul 4, 2019 at 7:24 PM UTC
Whoe'ver the still examines, must define
The wond'rous shifts of the immortal Time;
To kindly witness, the graybeard's silent gaze
From youth to age, from guidebook to learned ways.
Divided only by the fixed life stage,
The youth consults, and the elderly explain.
Slow the transition when the hours date,
From mighty Boy's knees to old aching gait.
While for the Old Man's loss the Young Boy gains,
Old Men comfort and Young Boys wisdom attains.
Here Boy listens to the old learned ways,
There in silent gaze wistful hungry boyhood stays.
Mem'ries and rememb'ring give time for time,
And young knees below, and old above climb.
While simple youngster shake the leg of old,
Experienced veteran like prophet hold,
Eager minds and submission mix their servile roles,
Lads and Late in waiting for their parole.
Smiles and sighs, proverbs and plays life abound,
And form a life-cycle that goes round and round.
Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 4:50 PM UTC
Stories mirror moons
moons amoung all stars
unique men and women hear
unspoken words
stories that change
While drifting through time
Fake authors republise
Glomming in everyone's mind
Till the day there stories forgotten
suddenly they don't remember
There ancestors true importance
branches broken and ghosted
Fallon of the grand piece
The day moves along
Without the lost history
After stories are closed
They lay in wait quitely
Till published
And everyone Reflects
On what was forgotten
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 6:02 PM UTC