"fishies" poems
NY Hip Hop
Gold Express
Bling Shop
Afro Brothers
proprietorship
buyin and sellin
filthy lucre
of down hard
Gat packin
Gangstas
on the down low
throwin down
fallin hook
line and stinker
just a bunch
of lil fishies
wigglin at the end
of golden chains
its all about
the bling baby
all about the bling
"I pity the fool"
saith Mr. T
the potentate of
soul and gold
who ain't
down with
the cool jewels
of righteous
B Teamers
arrested by
the silk rope
of glitzy discos
bribing bouncers
with an
earnest Jackson
to *** rush
the vanity faire
of bumping
A Listers
Or was it
Def Jam
Buddhas
minting
coin on
MTV?
exploiting
misogyny
and ghost
face killas
NWAs
slugging cases
of Kristol
blowing
fat spliff
smoke
up the *** of
Phat Farm
kids in
the hood
shooting
silver
bullets at
the man
takin baths
in tubs
of fifties
lighting up
with crisp
C Notes
rollin
through
life
in black
Escalades
its silver
spinners
twisting fast
round
corners
where
being cool
went blind
and
Coolie High
homies
still tip
a sip
for the
brothers
who ain't
there
Today
its all about
the raised fist
of power to
the P Diddy
fighting
the power
of the people
as leggy
Beyonce
warbles
songs
for the
posse
of a
Libyan
Dictator
whose
blood
money
pays
a cool
mil
cover
for a
New Years
Eve
tune
Its all about
the bling
baby
All about
the bling
baby, all
about the
bling.
NY Hip Hop
Gold Express
Best Prices in
Trenton Since
1997
You Tube Video:
Gil Scott Heron
Ain't No Such Thing As Superman
Trenton
2/25/11
jbm
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 9:19 AM UTC
...
I sit by a silver pool
My legs dangle in, just below the knee
so that my steps can remember where I've been
but my eyes dont have to see
And below the surface swim fish, lazy
each one holds a memory
unluckily, or lucky, they get a little hazy
I grasp at them, they swim further away
scales grazing fingertips, I watch in dismay
cause the only ones I seem to catch and devour
force my thoughts into such a disarray
I sit by a silver pool
eating painful memories
oh god, I'm such a fool
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
My water’s luminosity…
whisky and sage.
We breed to feed other fishies,
but I’m on stage.
Performing for some human’s selfish garrison.
This disregard is quite humane in comparison.
The cat, your companion,
He claws at me constantly.
I epitomize a pet.
I am merely your captive;
Only aesthetically attractive.
I long to be the social hippie of the sea,
but this isolation is drowning me.
One day you’ll find me ambivalently
sinking at the top of my bowl,
and you will flush me down yours like the rest of your useless ****
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 12:37 AM UTC
Tonight's grey cloud hangs over the pearlescent blue and pink of today.
The gray is an avalanche
criss-crossed
with black
powerlines
that spread like cracks in a mirror.
The rain starts to fall.
To my right is a young blonde
age (17?) unknown.
Her bag and telephone
would
match
but for a shade.
The rain starts to fall.
Young lovers kiss in the calm embrace of one another
beneath an awning the colour of
old ladies - no
boredom - no
subjugation -no.
the under side of an old mattress.
The rain starts to fall.
Across the gap stands an Asian man with the complete accoutrements of a golfer.
Obfuscated now by a train
with the palette of a McDonald's ad.
The rain starts to fall.
The streets are become slick
and every lamp bleeds the start
of an oil painting
with brushes made of light.
The air is cool.
There is a canal that stretches between seats, walled by rows of heads.
In the distance a little girl peaks her head up in the middle of all this,
she wears a bright pink plastic bow on her head that blinks and glows.
Traffic lights streak
green and red
over black gesso.
Cars streak
silver and blood
down black gesso.
"I simply don't need to cheapen things further"
Matching work uniforms.
Matching looks of boredom
Matching shoes and glances
Matching telephones
Matching lack of conversation
Matching hair
Matching matching carpet and drapes
Matching posture
why is everything matching?
(they got off at the same station)
Suburban princess holds the phone like a bible.
I attempt to sketch her arm in my head....but I am too ******
I am hungry.
The outside air is cool.
This is a carriage for the antisocial
3 rooms of solitude.
Everyone is plugged in
No-one dares to speak.
The Art of Conversation.
An old woman sits in front of me, with the face of Ray Winstone in drag.
Her hair is a dandelion
and her eyebrows are birds
painted in the distance.
Hands wrinkled and knotty
like old fruit.
Trains are predictable
the purest form of modern transport
all the little fishies
in the giant metal can
are silent to one another.
The train conductors voice is boredom.
I mistake ambient noise for music.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 11:13 AM UTC
My childhood was a dream.
Filled with monsters, mayhem, and magic,
And long sunny days
That lasted forever.
Playing cops and robbers,
Barbies,
House,
Playing, playing, playing.
Isn’t it ironic?
Back then we wanted to grow up.
When I was a kid,
My sister was my other half.
Like two peas in a pod,
We were never apart.
We fought,
We fell,
We failed,
We grew up.
Together.
I miss
The playground.
And falling asleep in one place,
Waking up in another.
And splishing, and splashing, and squealing,
Through puddles in the rain.
We were monkeys
Climbing and climbing
But never falling.
Ok.
We fell sometimes.
But at least we knew
That whenever we fell
There was always someone there to catch us.
I hope
My childhood sticks in my brain
Like gum in my hair,
That one time in first grade.
I hope
I never forget that Christmas,
When we made so many gingerbread men,
There was almost a million.
I hope
I never forget my friends.
Imaginary and real life,
My pet fishies,
Or the things that scared me.
They let me know how far I’ve come,
Cause I’m not scared of them anymore.
I hope
That my house doesn’t forget me
Cause I will never forget my home.
I did all my growing up there.
Though I guess
I’m still not done.
I wonder if
I ever will be.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
My fishy seems to have swam away,
Which is very odd because he lived in a bowl
In the suburbs.
How did this happen?
Here fishy fishy.
I don't want to have to get a new one.
This fishy came pretrained,
And could already do tricks,
The other fishies bore me.
Where's the flattery?
Here fishy fishy.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 2:35 AM UTC
I returned to where i fit like a puzzle piece into the transparent rock and the crystalline water,
where the trees grew prehistoric palm fronds, wild grass with a view over islands and shades of blue
where the sand felt like silk
birds flashed by the water, visions of grey bodies, yellow legs and wings shaped like pterodactyls,
the waters reflective surface barely alludes to the cosmos beneath
a teeming reef with blue starfish, red starfish, all manners of little fish, parrot fish, shiny squid in hues of blue purple iridescent as I snorkel I see eye to eye with fishies
the coral how they move or don’t ,
their shapely curves in brain wave formations or flowers in perpetual bloom, perhaps akin to a large mushroom
So I breathe and let my fear go.
This is where showers are outside and doors open all night for the breeze to wash me as I sleep.
Where the sky is shifting all in sight,
miles away rain falls and I delight in the visual ecstasy
of the creative flow
the ease of the wind and the lap lap lap of waves
at tidal flows bubbling in, sloshing out -
No skyline disturbing “skyscrapers” but horizons are in vision and further further
inside and out as
I watched a stacked Cumulus mediocris cloud rain onto the ocean, progressively getting smaller and smaller top down,
I saw a lightning storm illuminate the rising sun behind as moon slice smiles
I saw the reason why the heavens are called heavens
the stars almost close enough to touch, an expansiveness of space
when I breathed
it came inside me and filled me
with the vibrancy of billions upon billions of alchemical workshops, working in conjunction with each other, some element created here, some element come together there.
I paused at the highest point of the rock hill a shooter slings on by
past condensed galaxy middles.
When I breathed the expansiveness of ocean and rocks, reefs and prehistoric vegetation I was filled with expansiveness
It was there that I felt the shadows held friends too
my heart beat slowly , quickly, round up down
until one morning I woke up, transparent too
vibrating so highly becoming nothing
even just for a moment
I felt in unison with the rocks and the waves and the sand
the being I currently am
made up of the same stuff and in there
Oneness
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 5:51 AM UTC
Creeping through the kitchen
sneaking out the door
shhh my wee accomplice
if we're quiet we'll see more
left their feathers on the patio
their footsteps in the earth
I know there is a fairy-o
lets hunt for all we're worth
peeking in the buckets
and underneath the stone
told off by the two-year old
boy them kid's do moan!
"Iesus, see the fishies!"
her wee order not request
don't fall in, the water's cold
so cling her to my chest
I'm a fishy too I say
she almost does believe
but then instead of fish flakes
she feeds me rotten leaves
whoops I showed her something
throwing water in the air
now we both are slightly damp
won't tell your mum I swear
back to seeking fairies
and I'm crawling in the muck
got to find one somewhere
AHA! we are in luck!
a secret little wee one
hidden all away
but when she saw us coming
she turned to stone all grey.
not to worry little Freya
when we're gone awhile
she'll turn back to a fairy
with her pretty smile
now back to the kitchen
their rehearsals going well
mum looks close at her soggy sleeves
mum's can always tell.
what was she putting in your mouth?
Oh dead leaves, well thats ok!
a toddlers work is never done
and adults call it play....
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 8:27 AM UTC
Behold, I emerge from my slumber,
ready for the fluttering touch of another.
Who shall dance to the death with me?
Who shall fall in their peak to the voyeuristic sea,
and tuck themselves in 'neath the slobbering tongues
of the little fishies starving for the tastes of the young
that I gave my life to create.
They'll never get a chance to appreciate
all that I've sacrificed for the cause.
The world carries on, no grief and no pause.
All in a day's work, no thanks for the mother
who lives just to die for the meeting of another.
Mar 7, 2023
Mar 7, 2023 at 10:34 PM UTC
Half-asleep on my lap, embraced against me
The dim light of a soft box paints your face
Formulating the perfect pose
Preserving the unspeakable beauty in my arms
Silence.
Except for the constant clicking of the camera
A few flashes and wham your eyes open, a shred too wide, too curious
And you smile your best
I wrap myself around you
Three clicks happen real quick
My smile mirrored in yours
Pictures of us together
Glimpses of real love caught in the moment
Mine. Yours.
Pure and true
Perfectly happy
Then you go waka waka on the giant bean bag
Sprawling around, contouring its shape, expelling your body in all directions
I holler your name from the top of my lungs
You respond with a scream displaying two pearly whites and a hint of bare gums
As the breeze cools your skin, you splash into the inflatable pool
Rubber fishies swim along, you dunk them one by one
Soapy bubbles blown in the air circle around you, gleaming in the sunshine, revealing your face and burst with a pop
Still unable to sit unassisted, bam you fall into the water
My heart escapes my chest
There is water dripping all over you
I comfort you and brush hair away from your eyes
But I wasn't quite finished yet
You curl up in the fuzzy charms of a teddy
A new found hero in the making
My darling then arrives as a prince entering his humble kingdom
I fall in love with you all over again at the first glimpse
Bitter, reserved, aggressive, brisk, fresh, strong, assorted moments
I said one last photo
The softness of your young skin glowed in a playland of toys
I sit, stare and sigh at how delightful you look
Capturing candid photos of your innocence at play
The evening was getting tired, you drifted back to sleep
It wasn't easy as one would think
I saw you coming from the start
I rewind the times in my heart
A whole world of just you and I
I want it to be more than just a memory
A reminder of the road taken
Here I am, taking in every bit of you and smiling because I know you are all mine
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
pick and choose, they say,
just because you didn't catch the bouquet
doesn't mean it's okay to reel in a bucket of that many fishies
and not set even one free
you don't need that many fishies, they say
but I insist on upgrading my aquarium each and every day
I swear there aren't two of the same
and so what if I'm a collector
so what if I like the way it feels
so what if boredom stabs and I need a refreshment
so what if I don't understand commitment
because they have feelings, they say,
so it doesn't make it okay!
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 2:51 AM UTC
tranquility filled
a softly sung
soliloquy
enticing me to believe ~
freely as a summer’s
honey bee
lighting daintily from
flowering bush
to fruiting tree ~
peaceably intriguing
the cool blue sea
invited we
three fishies darted playfully
over my toes
and around my knee ~
you smiled at me ~
it pleased me to see /
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC
days go by
like drunk children in their
mothers womb.
I’m fishing in a pond
filled with nothing but alcohol.
It feels good
but I haven’t found any fishies yet.
I guess this is what
transitioning to your 20s feels like:
three weeks of settling into your new place,
thinking you have quite a few opportunities ahead of you
and then settling into your slightly bigger than before bed
only to stay there for hours upon hours a day
scrolling through nothing on the computer
hoping for more to come your way.
I’m trying to eat like a poor person
but I’m only poor in spirit,
financially i’m fat as a double sized donkey.
I’ve got a big ***
but it’s a nice ***
but i still wear
baggy jeans
and all black
to hide my
assets.
I wonder if i’ll look back on this transition period
with regrets.
The days fluctuate
some are
time so well spent.
Others are
just as dry as paint,
the stuff of art
but probably just as useless
as recoloring a picket fence.
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 7:58 PM UTC
we used to be so close.
remember?
she envied how close we were.
she was always irritated at how
you'd come to me before you came to her.
i'd always laugh when she got mad,
but she hated me for it.
you told me your secrets.
and i told you mine.
we spoke in metaphors and similies
because you thought it was fun
and it gave me a good laugh.
i remember how on the last day of school
i ran up to hug you
and i tripped over a wooden block
and fell into you.
i was embarrassing
and clumsy
but i that one moment,
i don't think you really cared.
i remember how you hated books.
or maybe you just didn't like the ones i did?
either way,
i remember.
i moved away
and i feel so terrible.
you probably don't feel as terrible as i do
because you're a guy
and there's always other fishies in the sea, right?
maybe not
i love you
and i miss you more than moon
misses my window on a cloudy night
you texted me the other day
and told me you missed me
and i said the same
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
Skip little skerry-boat
dance with the sea,
kiss the silver fishies
bring them home to me
Nov 25, 2024
Nov 25, 2024 at 5:28 AM UTC
he becomes a boy before my eyes
asking if my sight is sharp enough
to loop the line through another hook
and if this were half a century ago
he'd be asking grandpa to help him
rig his pole and take his picture with
the big shiny bass he finally caught
say fishies!
with that trademark thumbs up
with silver whiskers and skin like
the choppy surface of the lake, and i
vow to always remember my daddy
this way
as the happiest little boy
i ever have seen
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 12:34 AM UTC