"fixers" poems
There are bloggers and selfie-takers,
Know the difference.
There are noisemakers and peacemakers,
I can show you the evidence.
There are admirers and haters.
Be especially mindful.
There are well-wishers and supporters.
Be very careful
The are naysayers and yeasayers
Always be aware.
There are brothers and brother's keeper,
Always ready to take care.
There are destroyers and fixers,
Separate them.
There are mixers and blenders,
We need them.
There are writers and publishers,
They need each other.
There are readers and proofreader.
Both read for different reasons.
There are bystanders and onlookers.
Both will be watching.
There are movers and shakers,
One of them has the edge.
There are dreams snatches and vision busters,
Be on the lookout.
There are ghost whisperers and Ghostbusters,
Both have connection to a ghost.
There are buyers and sellers,
Each one benefits.
There are singers and there are dancers.
Everyone provides some entertainment.
©IvanBrooksPoetry
21/8/2018
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 1:59 PM UTC
liquid will swirl into the shape of it's cradle as hearts will mold to the minds of their successors. background checks?
tl;dr.
______________________________________________
brave girls have cranberry ***** running through their veins, isn't that right? drink up, buttercup.
what's it if you and i goes on a ride? i got a paintbrush, you've got what needs to be painted. i'll paint you so good you won't even recognize yourself.
-
portraiture is dead and landscape is only dying.
let me
-make you
-in two
-into
a landscape.
you're gonna be sittin' pretty for the rest of your life, 'cause i'm not giving you any other options. open up those ankles - we're out of paint.
-
this prototype calls for one cup of honeydew, one cup of darling- stop - .
if it's on the market, how illegal could it be?
throw 'er in the ***
the bottom drawer plays labyrinth to movers, shakers, mixers, fixers.
all those faces are too hard to tell apart, if you ask me. ten can-can dancers, please, and make it snappier than jaws on concrete!
no, not like that.
you're spending too much money on lipstick anyways. girls don't need makeup. girls will look pretty no matter what angle i've determined your elbows should be. your short-haired sister doesn't appear to be using this blood.
-
lay her on thick; and make sure you write those scars off as business expenses.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 1:35 AM UTC
Waiting for superman
She's got everything else
Wishes like a paper plane
Throw them like hands dealt
I got all this single frames
Captures more then hell
If penny's were made for wishes
Then dollars would never fail
How desperate are our needs
Pay it forward to tell the tale
Figure how trigger words
Speak bigger towards
Little kids or mini ******
Friends like me who want to be
What is more then what we see
glimer of a Gimp liquor, trying to sniff quicker
then Sneak mixers into the bar so they can
**** they still out there looking for fixers,
taking pills to get stiffers
Sure im the one whos sicker
is this your trick here?
Right hand full of dreams
Had a hand left with ******
sinner is in misery
***** you cant even play elixer
hold my hand why i choke slam all our plans of scam blasphemy is only for man
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
~dedicated to the heart fixers~
sometimes I smack my head,
when a poem commission is lying on
the ground before me, and I just don’t
hear it, believe it, in order to retrieve it…
many months of physical rehabilitation,
sessions always ended with a certain cutesy
Gen Z~Millenial crossover phraseology:
“remember to tell someone you love them”
the instructors mostly youngish,
so we senior~smile
a tad dismissively, give them a reward~grin, and
head for the locker room,
where we gossip and compare notes,
on the Part II of our in-process-future-realization,
living a grueling new life of self-preservation, 24/7
the PTs & EPs pound you on the machina, go faster, work harder,
eat better, sleep more, take those meds, motion is lotion,
walk the talk, never be still, but race to live longer and
prosper, this hard work is your new job, and resignation
is non~optional
now, it hits me, via a figurative sharp slap on the side of the head,
triggering an actual physical manifestation that reverbs to the toes,
that the most important lesson went under the radar,
evading the former trader’s dimming vision,
flunking himself on the rehab test paper,
a purple F for fool,
a grade, earned and deserved, and herein poetically preserved
the hardest heart work, begins only after you co-
commence the longest road back to where you once
belonged, but where you can’t walk alone, for therein
a recipe for failure; and the work that needs doing,
is on you; take that tear-repaired heart, and give it away, it,
one can be healed, but not if sealed, for the hard-hearted
walls thicken, and “*over time, the thickened heart muscle
can become too stiff to fill the heart with blood; the heart
can't pump enough blood to meet the body's needs.*”
so break off pieces of your heart, give them away with
relentless abandon, for this is the heart that self-repairs,
new tissue, new fiber, and most important, regeneration,
the one single reparation that can successfully
accomplish the true miracle of getting by giving,
no forgiving, if you don’t exercise the heart by
“remembering to tell someone you love them”
dedicated to the hard working staff of the
Cardio Rehabilitation Unit
of Nyulangonge, Rusk Institute of Rehabilitation
who started me
with a mighty push on the long road to utilizing my heart properly
<•>
Apr 26, 2024
Apr 26, 2024 at 8:13 AM UTC
Gods, Goddesses, Monsters and Creatures,
Beings with many unique features.
Respected, loved, hated, feared,
Some bringing joy and others tears.
Mystical, powerful, ruling with might,
Too much power causes them to fight.
Protectors, destroyers, fixers and breakers,
Good, evil, givers and takers.
Gods, Goddesses, Monsters and Creatures,
All beings with awesome power and unique features.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
Our Father,
who art in heaven
Mother Earth,
who art in Hell.
Burnt to ash,
ready Armageddon
Watch the sky
where angels fell
Zipper-mouths pulled tight
as the Cross passes the way
Carnal masks shimmer light
As sludge engulfs the day.
Vicious, vicarious crows of blackened ember
Cawing and moaning; devilishly romantic
The touch of fingertips on lips I remember
Left her womanhood wet and frantic.
Unchained desires that surely are satanic.
Those hours in confessional amongst lying sycophants
Console weeping eyes and tarnished souls
Elected “Saints” stand tall with hypocritical blather
Condemning children with eyes like burning coals
“But virgins taste sweeter,” as the angels say
With sins like spices which season raw meat
But innocence-takers hide beneath crimson beds
Sitting atop thrones as stewards to God’s seat
Will those that fall, eventually rise?
All creatures tempted by tangible discord
Would we disobey the Grand one’s design,
If we follow the path that derives from the Lord?
Samaritans run extinct in the iron fire roads
And jukebox ****** priests play The Doors
Demon-eye coffee, dark like oily foes
I sip and read about the murders in the Moors
Devil executions fuel the jungles outside
Angels Abandoning service to kids like me
Fixers and hitters of the skid south side
Shouts from the shadows, “Hey, Nothing to see!”
Violent red dresses accompanying long limb girls
Spreading legs for daddy and **** daddy do’s
Magic hallucinogens showing circles and swirls
In faces under hoods and sky-crying moods
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC
I had a few of
those notebook paper fixers
Hole Reinforcements
self-adhesive
white
five-hundred and
forty-four in count
if only hearts were
so easy to mend
but beneath that self-adhesive white hole reinforcement
there's
still a tear
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 1:19 AM UTC
His head lies in the sunlight
grease-paint and mascara smeared in flecks,
passed-out upon room 5's windowsill
whilst all around his friends frolic and have ***
he stinks of Michael Kors'
with his designer suit and dip-dyed hair,
he thinks the girls dig a guy in a suit
but sadly they simply don't care
for class is overrated, manners belated,
he went out looking for a bit
instead he threw up on the karaoke machine
and now he just looks like a ***
disco lights schizophrenic, blinding,
covering his face burning with embarrassment
simple childish fun curdled sour
stumbling through a crowd hurling harassment
passing by drug abusers and rich fixers
taxi cabs beep, run-down and stained,
prostitutes sell in ***** horns and bunny suits -
his need's dire but his wallet's drained
for money can buy pretty much anything
but with one tiny exception -
no amount of printed-paper notes
can buy a life of true, honest, perfection.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 8:49 AM UTC
the installation.
an audience of two,
one helper, five minutes.
in multiples of ten, each
one six sticky fixers.
all about numbers,
until equipment depleted
there was a break in the high street.
tourists remark that
this is a beautiful place.
wonderland.
sbm.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 3:19 AM UTC
We were window fixers
my father and I
fitted windows
into spaces
in large buildings.
At this time
we fixed windows
into a small prison
for young offenders
outside London.
My father had a plan
where the windows
had to go.
I helped him lift
and get the frames
in place
and I held them
while he drilled holes
and ******* them
in place.
Other workers
were there
labourers
chippies
and sparkies
and radios played
all day long
from some area
or other.
I had heard
Marion sing
with a big band
the night before
a blonde dame
with a voice
like silver.
I sang in my head
the songs she sang.
My father stopped
for a cigarette.
I swept up the dust
from the drilled holes
looking out the bars
at the world beyond.
Some young kids
would be locked up here
some day
not thinking
of who fixed
the windows
shut up tight
and always closed.
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC