"fines" poems
old hunger makes us sick
forget who we are and
where we're going
how to see thru fog
how to pierce the sky
where's the truth in all this
mustard gas and lies
translucent silken shadows of people
wishy washy wistful thinking like
'o look at big sophisticated words dribbling across page - verbal *****
great philosopher all expression and
thought purge speaking in a vacuum'
petulant little lines for liar's lurid heart
petty little fines growing large from the start
what is this point you speak of and how do we get there
if it is really about the journey and not the destination
then can i get off right now
or
can i be seal eye headlight hi beams
is there trust enough left between us two
to go on down this road together
or part ways at lightning fork in path
no
i go into petrified forest bog
to hide and melt and decompose
bucolic rot under stalwart stoic onlooking trees
you go to riches, glory, ******* and now sprouting planted seeds
misgivings all forgotten like
irreverent, irrelevant childish deeds
and
i grow bitter and ferment
starving gut absinthe
filled with frozen wormwood lies
like Poe and de Quincy and all the rest
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
I smoke cigarettes
I drink ***** straight
I party with the suffragettes.
I have no job.
I have a car.
I have a brand new, spanking guitar.
I'll sing a song,
so sing along.
I'm a born-again, ***** brunette.
******* where's a cigarette?
I write some lines.
I've got some fines.
I snort a line,
I'm doing fine.
Poet,
know it,
*****
snitch,
girl,
hurl,
finger,
singer,
love,
glove,
me,
be,
book,
hooked,
see?
three!
And now you know,
my tale, insane.
It's not quite told,
I'll try again.
****
Greed,
'strology,
Blasphemy,
Gay/Straight,
don't hate,
quitter,
hitter,
fool,
cool,
won't get me in a swimming pool.
delusional,
confusional,
blankets,
spank it,
pillows,
billows
out the car into the night.
Taurus,
chorus!!
Oh, won't you be my Valentine,
Now you've seen into my mind?
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 6:59 PM UTC
Once more
I am floored
by indulgence
a greed
a lust
a need
complete me to bleed
in my left nostril.
Last night, I fell from the sky.
Saw why I existed
and misted the glass
with my bind, i am bound
I found M D A in my D N A
A ray of
Ad dic tion—
con flic tion, res tric tion, cru ci fi xion
He was more than just a friend
Ended in me coming back
attack of parachutes.
no—not an american raid
blade cut the lines
weighed out the fines
swallowing paper and singing the signs.
He saw though the redbull,
the xanax, the pro zac,
the this- that
your mix- match emotions
that k i l l e d like a rat-trap.
And for what?
Artificial love.
A c r a c k
in my parachute attack: I deny.
Last night, I f e l l from the sky.
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 10:05 PM UTC
strawberry frenchfries dipped in chocolate fondue.
cry me an 8 oz cup of water when i step on you with my giant blue shoe.
dance through the forest with gnomes stapled to your shoulders.
hide your foil gum wrappers in manila folders.
left and right. front to back,
oxygen in the atmosphere may lack.
pluto and jupiter intertwine when night falls.
orange and green leather sewn to your ragdoll.
licking the excess frito crumbs from under your fingernails,
eyes pealed to the scenery of wacky inmates in jail.
selfish yellow and blue fish yelling at dr. seuss,
reading books in sunrooms drinking orange juice.
camera flashes and ripped dollar bills,
making chocolate pancakes on top of cherry hills.
hazy eyes drowning into a dream,
winter nights as cold as ben&jerrys; ice cream.
red hand chasing numbers on a clock,
movement of legs turns muscles into rock.
acid drops from black heart clouds falling onto driveways.
little kids on scooters munching on happy meals while saddened by the loss of sunrays.
23 degrees celsius and shine forcing itself through.
ice cream trucks and roadraged humans trying to get through.
bumble bee roads with lines and street signs,
teens boredum, smoking dope, drinking ***** getting fines.
police on the prowl everyday, every night, seeing through lies,
keeping their sight wide-open like a mouth in surprise.
fettuchini alfredo at fancy restaurants.
ice cold water knocked over on a ladys lap.
words missing letters, conversations missing sound.
apples and basketballs losing shape and sense of round.
flat chested skinny ******* slipping through cracks in wooden floors,
obese transexuals getting stuck in between doors.
puzzle pieces glued to the top of a bald head,
veins appear blue but blood is red.
blowing kisses, blowing out candles
cats,dogs,birds wearing sandals.
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 5:27 PM UTC
Rudolph was differently -abled
As nearly everybody knows.
He suffered discrimination
because he had a nose that glows.
All of the alt-right Reindeer
Were bigoted and called him names.
They never let poor Rudolph
Participate in Reindeer games
Then one foggy holiday Eve
O.S.H.A came to say
“This hostile workplace violates rules
There will be hefty fines to pay!”
Now all of the Reindeer hate him
but learned to hide it carefully.
They just spent two weeks in training
For Reindeer sensitivity.
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
i have paid the fines
of dozens of overdue library
books i never finished reading.
i love reading.
i love curling up
in a big leather armchair
while the sun reaches out
to me through the window
as time slows
and my coffee grows cold.
but tolstoy and fitzgerald
sit on my shelves
or in my purse
carried everywhere
and collecting dust.
i can see the silhouette
of who i would like to be.
the curve of her hips
the stillness of her limbs.
she grows her own herbs
and tries out new recipes
while her husband is at work.
she doesn’t mind driving
for hours alone
and enjoys singing
along to the radio
going five under the speed limit.
she is not in a hurry.
she is proud
and sure
and poised.
she reads books and returns
them on time.
she gave up on dreaming
and hoping
and longing
and finally began
living.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
1969, one voice sent the world's radios to dancing because we were passing the torch from dreaming to reality as we took to the soft landing
That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind
and for just a second, everyone alive got to feel like Einstein but
I bet you as Armstrong looked down he didn't picture the strife and denial of life to so many in sight 40 years later
street riots and technology gone violent controlling the fears of children peering through glass stained in dust as nightmares rush passed the idea of life, crushing everything in sight
we even wrote it in our constitution
Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.
but you'd have to sell your soul to bail from a life ended where money knows no measure
and you can not tell me that shooting an innocent human on mistake is neither cruel no unusual
but the constitution has turned into a wall
to push people so far back on that they couldn't turn and run
or read what was suppose to be a guarantee in the land of the free
and that's just the beginning
we're denying people from entering a country for body modification
when we've been altering our appearance longer than we have had boundaries to deny people from
because we're still leveling cities like we did when we were daydreaming and knocking block castles down
because we're still enslaving humans because of their genetics
but behind sheer curtains, it's all ok
because if you don't see then there's no need to worry
it's easy to ignore it when you have comments and feeds to read before you give the world news a chance at your attention
but what i've never understood
is how innovation and careful thinking placed a device in your hand
and all you came to do with it was carefully craft a 140 character string of ********
but i guess it goes to show
like our constitution
that though manifested to be great for the people by the people
at the end of the day, we're still too self obsessed to look at the rest of the picture
we're still too afraid to peer down at the entire world
so, Neil, I'm sorry, one giant step for man but mankind hardly remembers
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
1. Shutting the world out is a sacred art
Open only to the strong at heart
Holding em off with a fake *** smile
A guess at your thoughts is off by a mile
2. While like every other art its got its flaws
You're guaranteed protection from gaping jaws
Of 'friends' hell bent on making you lose
Your focus and leave you wiping their shoes
3. So while you bravely try to guard your heart
In a box of fake smiles and weak 'I'm fines'
You'll find it grows cold like a box of ice
And leaves you spewing words that pierce like a dart.
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 1:15 PM UTC
Where have you gone, lover of mine?
Where have you been, this unending time?
Have you gone on a train, to a place far away,
Where the mountains sing and the sycamores sway?
Have you taken a boat to an island alone,
Where you sit and you think as you toss a cool stone?
Have you leaped on a plane to see new skies,
Where you watch shining stars with tired, worn eyes?
Have you just walked along roads with rotting old signs,
Where the locals count up your hard liquor fines?
Have you met someone new, sweet, and bright,
Who listens to your stories until late at night?
Have you made a friend that lends a hand,
Who will be by your side in the dirt and sand?
Have you whispered in the ear of a young, new girl,
Who holds your hand and wears soft curls?
Have you remembered your love that waits back at home,
Who cries silent tears, tired and alone?
Have you looked to the sky, the clouds and sun,
When you can't quite remember where you're from?
Have you listened to the sounds calling your soul,
When there in your ears is a gentle, calm lull?
Have you felt the pull of the waves in the sea,
When you stop for a moment and think about me?
Have you come home, if for a second, to look,
When you feel the urge to finish this old story book?
Have you thought of my love, spanning across seas,
What it does to my heart to know you left me?
Have you pondered our stars, our memories within,
What we did when we were close, alone with our sin?
Have you remembered the days of smiles and hands,
What you wrote in those letters that traveled vast lands?
Have you forgotten those moments of tears and sorrow,
What we thought was a time when there was no tomorrow?
So I ask you once more, although you've gone far away,
This question, now old, in my mind will stay,
Where have you gone, lover of mine?
Where have you been, this unending time?
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
Jumps start the gun..today on the run.. but thats just my mind...body laggin behind..But im feelin entergetic so Im Just freestyling lines...leaned against the pines...Running these powderd lines...parked in a fire lane collecting fines..Exhilarated heart beats turn into mental treats...as for my body it just starts to feel weak...points of mind blowing utopia..erupt body pausing phobias...and when this brain begins to die down and stop...well the body compulses, foams, and rocks
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 9:25 AM UTC
A estos peñascos rudos,
mudos testigos del dolor que siento
-que sólo siendo mudos
pudiera yo fiarles mi tormento,
si acaso de mis penas lo terrible
no infunde lengua y voz en lo insensible-,
quiero contar mis males,
si es que yo sé los males de que muero;
pues son mis penas tales,
que si contarlas por alivio quiero,
le son, una con otra atropellada,
dogal a la garganta, al pecho espada.
No envidio dicha ajena:
que el mal eterno que en mi pecho lidia,
hace incapaz mi pena
de que pueda tener tan alta envidia;
es tan mísero estado en el que peno,
que como dicha envidio el mal ajeno.
No pienso yo si hay glorias;
porque estoy de pensarlo tan distante,
que aun las dulces memorias
de mi pasado bien, tan ignorante
las mira de mi mal el desengaño,
que ignoro si fue bien, y sé que es daño.
Esténse allá en su esfera
los dichosos: que es cosa en mi sentido
tan remota, tan fuera
de mi imaginación, que sólo mido,
entre lo que padecen los mortales,
lo que distan sus males de mis males.
¡Quién tan dichosa fuera,
que de un agravio indigno se quejara!
¡Quién de un desdén llorara!
¡Quién un alto imposible pretendiera!
¡Quién negara, de ausencia o de mudanza,
casi a perder de vista la esperanza!
¡Quién en ajenos brazos
viera a su dueño, y con dolor rabioso
se arrancara a pedazos
del pecho ardiente el corazón celoso!
Pues fuera menor mal que mis desvelos,
el infierno insufrible de los celos.
Pues todos estos males
tienen consuelo o tienen esperanza,
y los más sin iguales
solicitan o animan la venganza;
y sólo de mi fiero mal se aleja
la esperanza, venganza, alivio y queja.
Porque ¿a quién sino al cielo,
que me robó mi dulce prenda amada,
podrá mi desconsuelo
dar sacrílega queja destemplada?
Y él, con sordas, rectísimas orejas,
a cuenta de blasfemias pondrá quejas.
Ni Fabio fue grosero
ni ingrato, ni traidor; antes, amante
con pecho verdadero,
nadie fue más leal ni más constante:
nadie más fino supo, en sus acciones,
finezas añadir a obligaciones.
Sólo el cielo, envidioso,
mi esposo me quitó; la Parca dura,
con ceño riguroso,
fue sólo autor de tanta desventura.
¡Oh Cielo riguroso, oh triste suerte,
que tantas muertes das con una muerte!
¡Ay dulce esposo amado!
¿Para qué te vi yo? ¿Por qué te quise,
y por qué tu cuidado
me hizo, con las venturas, infelice?
¡Oh dicha, fementida y lisonjera,
quién tus amargos fines conociera!
¿Qué vida es esta mía,
que rebelde resiste a dolor tanto?
¿Por qué, necia, porfía,
y en las amargas fuentes de mi llanto
atenuada, no acaba de extinguirse,
si no puede en mi fuego consumirse?
2.7k
In West Virginia they dig tunnels or a great big hole,
to extricate from Mother Earth the substance known as coal.
For centuries the coal was burned and smoke would fill the air,
but coal became outmoded and demand's no longer there.
So many miners were laid off as mines did stall or close,
and in Coal Country incomes dropped and unemployment rose.
But Donald Trump made promises to fix the miners' strife,
by saying he'd bring Old King Coal a-roaring back to life.
So Trump reduced the regulations that bring jail or fines
for harm to the environment from power plants or mines.
But all this is irrelevant - Trump has no magic spell
to make the world want coal again. To whom will these mines sell?
Trump may as well have promised to bring back the horse and cart;
for tinkers, whalers, schooner sailors, a rich and brand new start.
For Trump will promise anything and sell his very soul.
Next Christmas his reward should be... a big old lump of coal.
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 7:14 PM UTC
If you wanted to know, how it feels.
It feels like your restrained,
From being happy.
Like your being held back from being okay.
And, honestly,
It's not easy
It's like being sore or in pain,
and not being able to show it,
No matter how much pain your in.
The problem with it is,
the people that seem happiest,
often are the most depressed
That's why its so hard to tell if someones depressed
It's also one of the hardest things to deal with,
The sadness.
The hopelessness.
The numbness.
And yet people still keep a smile on there face.
when it gets so bad.
and people die,
because they cant take it anymore
everyone says "I didn't know it was that bad"
well, they didn't want you to know it was that bad
that's what I hate about depression,
people suffer in silence,
and don't have anyone that supports them,
and when they are gone,
everyone is shocked,
because no one knew they were depressed
So please,
People out there,
don't suffer in silence,
talk to someone,
talk to me,
because I care,
I know how depression feels
and the fake smiles,
and all the "i'm fines"
I know depression ***** ***
but, please
don't suffer in silence,
because that's what i do,
don't be me,
please
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, pen ink cries too:(
fines that cant be identified on the near
or the writes put on paper they die they cry
got my reasons for the sacred peasants and held daemons
nurtured weapons earned upon various treasons
came surrendered on your questioned gazes
that i fond a sweet spot on my unsolved mazes
unhealthy for the mind
my ears brought up to a permanent blind
you descend my pride
to fault on knees loose
cut on shortage of scenarios to choose
amazement on the major dominance captive of my shoes
leading calls to a song never told never sold
--------ravenfeels
Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 6:22 PM UTC
Providing you survive the drive inside the suicide lane,
The inane objections of several secular seconds will both drive you insane and tame the frame of irrational sanity,
Which stripped away the man in me,
And grabbed my sleeve convincingly to lament the angry laugh of free...
Enterprise; do I comprise of many lies,
As you do?
A gift or prize; yes I surmise the former plays no voodoo.
Like the latter,
Piter pater, I ask exactly, "Do you,"
Truly
care
to know...
If existence is but chatter in a blankness with no matter,
And no welcome mat to meet the merry-minded Happy Hatter's
Dash to seek that ****** infatuation with the sadder shift of anger which,
Shook the sheets to show off that the banker is an actor,
Who washes
Shame
Away
In calm, hot showers.
What empowerment.
We underwent the chance event,
Which supplemented discontent with the rich and single one percent,
How kind it was of him to lend,
His hand,
For both of mine.
What malcontent.
We thought dissent would overthrow the circus tent,
Which represented forced consent with the oppressed by blissful fraudulence
Remaining 99 percent.
Peasants, plebeians, proletariat;
We poke the U.N. Secretariat,
To ask again,
"Are we there yet?"
"Are we there yet?"
And silence is how were always met.
We drop it, trust they won't forget,
About us, suffering cold sweats;
As we fear unwanted debt,
They won't forget,
They won't forget,
They won't forget
About us.
Yet competition takes it place,
And twists that sympathetic face,
To grab a poor man's knowledge base,
To ask him,
"What do
I gain
from assisting
The likes
Of you?"
The poor man bellows, "you're poor too!
Like those who can't afford shampoo.
You can't afford my point of view,
It risks a loss that's overdue,
And money makes you misconstrue,
Existence."
And if existence is but chatter in a blankness with no matter,
And no welcome mat to meet the merry-minded Happy Hatter's
Dash to seek that ****** infatuation with the sadder shift of anger which,
Shook the sheets to show off that the banker is an actor;
He forgot the human aspect should always be the biggest factor,
On his spreadsheets as he calculates productivity's next chapter;
What empowerment.
We underwent the chance event,
Which supplemented discontent with the rich and single one percent,
How kind it was of him to lend,
His hand,
For both of mine.
This isn't right.
I question fines,
And wonder, where's the kindness?
What happened to our kindred spirits?
Did we leave all that behind us?
Is money truly all we want,
And happiness put second?
The future is unwritten,
So follow me;
Expect resistance.
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 3:46 PM UTC
Come on skinny love just last the year
Pour a little salt we were never here
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer
I tell my love to wreck it all
Cut out all the ropes and let me fall
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Right in the moment this order’s tall
I told you to be patient
I told you to be fine
I told you to be balanced
I told you to be kind
In the morning I’ll be with you
But it will be a different “kind”
I’ll be holding all the tickets
And you’ll be owning all the fines
Come on skinny love what happened here
Suckle on the hope in lite brassiere
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
Sullen load is full; so slow on the split
I told you to be patient
I told you to be fine
I told you to be balanced
I told you to be kind
Now all your love is wasted?
Then who the hell was I?
Now I’m breaking at the britches
And at the end of all your lines
Who will love you?
Who will fight?
Who will fall far behind?
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Secret talks, Late night walks
Glistening eyes, Cute lullabies
Blushing cheeks, the knees going weak
Hearts beating fast,
Embracing one another like it's the last
Watchful stares, walking by without a care
The smell of sweet cologne, the melting of ice cream cones
Record stores, the books scattered on the floor
The sunsets in the evening, the sun rising in the morning
Holding hands, designer brands
The long lunch lines, the expensive traffic fines
The first kiss, the suspenseful bliss
m.d.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 4:14 AM UTC
When he calls again,
Do Not pick up the phone,
do not wonder about lips that judge
ignorant of the fines he owes.
When he calls again,
Do Not throw the phone,
you have ran as far as runaway thoughts,
a shattered screen won't carry you further.
When he calls again,
Do Not scream at the ringtone,
the cacophony of broken sounds
will not chip away at the memory of his sins.
When he calls again,
when he begs for forgiveness,
DO (Not) tell this manchild that
to forgive is mercy,
and only God grants mercy.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 10:23 PM UTC
Open face of demonstration, demanding a new declaration
by excreting exclamations to explain to them
that there is no place for them to lay their head.
You want to erase them, and just replace them again
with a new generation that will provide the revelation
that will spark the alleviation of the victims of trade that had been played by those trained
to wrap chains around them, no longer locked to the ground but running in place nonetheless,
circling around at whatever pace has been set.
Playing house in the devil’s play-set.
Always alluding to what you wanna play next.
It’s time to resign from the contract you signed, pay all of the cancellation fines,
so you can start your own design.
The one that makes you inclined to put time into that
which will impact the things that you blame for losing your mind.
The things, you complain, are a waste of your time,
While you sit around and just hate and drink up a glass of whine.
Open innovation can transform into inspirational collaboration,
which will then send out invitations to the world
to take their own aboriginal exploration which would in turn destroy all awol nations,
thus, breaking the boundaries of potential imagination.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
Drops round and run down low
Mud forms and creates tiny valleys within.
Red roads drop and rises ,
As insults flashes like thunder bolts.
Horns deafen ears,
As blood blinds eyes .
Rollercoaster highways,
Or more like riding a bull,
Feel the aches in the waist.
Infact the mechanical horses were older
than earth herself.
You could see holes and rust
in the metals.
The government stood by the red road idle,accepting fines and kinds.
If only they had listened to their cries,
Blood would still remain in veins.
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 4:07 PM UTC
because of an accident at the main intersection
because of several hazardous accidents before
my driving is impeccable
yet, I have a long history of fines and penalties
suffer...
with the decisions I made for other people
not for their happiness,
but for the life they wanted me to live
but a fool I am for listening to them
My deadbeat dad only told me one good piece of advice
and that was to never listen to anyone but yourself
too bad he was a piece of **** that I could never depend on
I destroyed my life... They destroyed it
but I can't blame them... for the time has passed
and I now live with the remains that haunt me daily
not them... but worse
I am to hear backtalk from them everyday
blaming me
everyone
blaming me for their manipulation
blaming me for having listened to them in the first place
mocking me with their actions, mocking me with their continual bad advice
BUT DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME TO STOP WALLOWING IN MY REGRET.
DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME TO STOP LIVING IN THE PAST
DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME TO STOP REGRETTING TODAY
because you don't know what my today is like because of your advice yesterday
you don't know... all of you... don't know.
a dream from my past
awoke to a missed call from my past
I guess I'm not alone in regretting today.
listen here, I'll make you a deal
the day I stop living in regret
is the day you stop living in denial.
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
Will there be a time when
All this technology ends
When the screens go down
We all mute the sound
Will we return to a time
Not forged in financial design
When the ROI and the GDP
Big money banks we no longer see
Or the interest rates and credit lines
Hidden fees and holdback fines
And tell them, when I turn my shoulders to the night,
I sent you to discuss the market's yield's human right
Oct 11, 2020
Oct 11, 2020 at 9:10 PM UTC
Occupy MDP!
that’s
mom’s and dad’s place -
you imbeciles!
Occupy
Mom’s and Dad’s place -
they’ve made too much money!
They’ve worked since
they were twenty
Looking after kids
and saving money –
being selfish
no charity!
just being plain greedy!
Occupy MDP!
Don’t you see?
Mom and Dad got too much money!
Look at me –
I’m twenty-eight
going on twenty-nine –
ain’t got a penny
ain’t got a honey
and Dad and Mom
got too much in the kitty
They put money in the bank!
**** Don’t you see?
Mom and Dad are capitalists!
Occupy MDP!
So Dad and Mom
thirty years
they worked
and raised kids
and they’ve paid every cent on the house!
**** Mom and Dad are capitalists!
**** – they’re bourgeoisie!
Occupy MDP!
Open their fridge– eat for free!
Watch TV, use their internet
and surf with glee –
Mom and Dad can pay every fee!
Cos they’re capitalists
and money pigs –
that’s what they are,
Mom and Dad
So Occupy MDP!
Lie in the couch
and get your friends
in the garden
and trample on the beds of flowers -
**** Can’t you see?
She goes to the hairdresser’s;
She goes to the pedicurist -
Mom’s a bourgeoisie!
Drive Dad’s car
while he snores
who cares if you burn the tires
just drive at speed
for a good adrenalin police chase -
Old Dad will pay the fines anyway!
**** – the police are capitalists!
Dad’s a capitalist!
Mum’s a bourgeoisie!
Come on - O youth of the World
It does not matter if you are past
twenty or thirty -
All youth unite at this cry:
Occupy MDP!
Occupy Mom’s and Dad’s!
O brave Youth of the World -
Occupy MDP!
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 1:36 AM UTC