"flickr" poems
Tremble inside feeling so cold without you.
Sleep, rest illusive.
My hurt on display for the world.
It is so hard to breath without you.
You hexed my ***** and I cannot *** without you!
I miss your voice
You won't take my calls.
You blocked me on flickr viewbug and more.
I ******* adored you and you stupid man
Why the **** am I on ignore??
Oh You wanted to be the one to break my heart
The only one no but the most hurt.
The pissy thing is you never said a negative word
I miss your positivity, your loving words
I miss you more than ice cream, motor cycle season, life
I will take what you gave me and apply it every day.
You were the best in so many ways.
I long to hear your voice calling to me again.
I have done my best to forget, erase hear you no more to no end
Lay in bed calling out your name while my tears roll down my pillow
Your not to blame.
You made a choice to walk away, erase me
Make me pain.
My camera is very inspired so I cannot really complain.
The audience feels hollow compared to the smiles with you I came.
I miss the intimacy, the stares, the hot pants moans and **** glares.
I miss your instruction on just what to do
Dude you turned me into a pile of goo.
I would be ok if I could just ***
You hexed my *****
Im ******* pissed...and I need to giggle
*** have you done?
Sigh, why..so sudden did I go from your everything
Your entire world
to your ignore list
I wish I understood
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
**Inspired by Meg Cranston's Artist for President
(http://www.uniteddivas.com/megcranston/megpresident.html)**
We assert that there is a youth culture that is different and separate from all other cultures and that our culture is governed by principles which the aged population finds peculiar or offensive.
We are tired of being labeled.
We are tired of being segmented.
We are tired of hearing old people talk about us.
We are tired of being the respondents to your 20 city questionnaire.
We are done with being ignored.
We are sick of 1980s spandex.
We are sick of your Top 40 hits on a compact disc.
We are sick of your rom-coms and big budget fantasy sci-fi sequels.
We are sick of 60 billion ad messages being hurled from satellites in outer space.
We are done with being disappointed.
We demand the right to change everything.
We demand the right to create our own words.
We demand the right to define what is cool in the morning.
We demand the right to re-define what is cool in the evening.
We are done with being told to follow.
We reserve the right to be elitist.
We reserve the right to choose our heroes.
We reserve the right to create jobs that never existed before.
We reserve the right to outsource, open-source and crowdsource everything and all.
We are done with your rigid ways.
We condemn the wars that you started.
We condemn the poverty and hunger you created.
We condemn your irresponsibility in ignoring our dying planet.
We condemn the forces of greed that keeps an honest man from climbing the income brackets.
We will fix the mess you left behind.
This is for school kids
This is for college students
This is for young professionals
This is for the young artist who shares his creations on DeviantArt
This is for the young blogger who dreams of being a travel journalist
This is for the podcaster who is on her way to become a successful RJ
This is for the YouTube user who dreams of her own television show and feature film
This is for the photography enthusiast who spends his pocket money on a Flickr Pro Account
This is for the opinionated Twitter-for-Blackberry addict destined to become a Twitter celebrity. (Even we don’t know what that means!)
This is for the coding guru who gifts his geek friend a mobile gaming app based on Dungeons & Dragons for his birthday. Yes that is cool...for now.
This is youth culture
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 2:24 PM UTC
*Tears splatter onto marble floor
As her eyelashes Flickr
Bitter heartbreak at the core
Lifelines grow thinner
Yellow teeth,
brutally beaten self-befriender
Heart pounding disbelief
Every sight that's seen in the mirror,
life feels like a trial and error
She leaves her Deathly remains,
of heart breaking grief
She's Close to the touch,
But to far to reach
She whispers to herself,
Rest in peace*
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
Image by UW Digital Collections via Flickr/ Ivan Novikoff was my ballet teacher for twelve years when I was very young. Kathleen Colby/view photo on my profile facebook
Gypsies dance while the world spins on and on…
Pacing a beach in Africa a lion yearns for freedom and fun.
This old beast has known the wilds and never spun to happy tides.
The girls have thoughts of glory in their heads; no lion tales do they dread.
The lion just wants to dance, his old legs wobble when he tries to prance.
The girls let their scarfs fly high, the wind whips them as it should into the sky.
A perfume hits the lion’s nose; he lays down dead, he is very old.
The girls dance on without a thought.
A dead lion in Africa should have been taught that ballet
dancing is for the very young when you get old you are done.
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 9:16 AM UTC
The easy trees. Deceptive soar to latticed skies
And stretch of trunks to overwhelm: your welcomed trick
To feel the circling of the height. Right here.
I see the gaze your melancholy eyes imply -
Serious with sight, so every image
Is of sorts, a selfie, but also shows us all
How to look up.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 4:25 AM UTC
I look up to the sky, and all I think about is you.
It pains me when I see your name on my notifications
or the photos I have of you on my Flickr
or the photo pinned to my dresser
or the notes you left in a tin of mint
or the broken promise of a Bee Movie critique
or the wedding in a small chapel in the boonies
or the names we’ve made for our four [sic] kids
or the thoughts—
these ideas of a life together.
Because it was you who broke my heart.
It was you who left.
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 9:12 AM UTC
This poet decided against
becoming a measly minced meaty morsel
undetected inauspicious augury
assigning adept
aqueous ace AOL amphibian,
who surreptitiously crept
to the secret crypt (guarded by
foo fighters and amazing dragons)
said gendarmes did except
special fluid scrip as egress into
heavily fortified
(with USDA recommended allowance),
thus when the configurative motley crue
including thyself (a bono fied doo
bee brother - long given up for lost,
which "FAKE" oracle
misinterpreted by a goo goo
doll, and cross dresser named Hugh
played being took a vow el,
and hence consonantly knew
all along, i dwelt peacefully
in a soundcloud loo
immensely spacious with ooh
dills of survival trappings
purchased from Peru
laborers treated by free pact
guaranteeing a socially
conscious shopper to rue
painstaking indigenous stoop labor,
now stamped imprimatur could allow,
enable and provide means to shoe
each formerly eczema dappled,
cracked bare foot
ah, a glimmer of hopefulness
(upon this crowded house of a planet) view
which youtube snapchat ting
reddit as joyous outlook
sans linkedin shutterfly,
twitter ring tender flickr ring shoots
communicated an instagram message
of hopefulness kickstarting optimism
versus the initial thread of this poem,
which to set this got off track
(hinting at goal to be
a paperback book writer wannabe)
rather than ending up as a byte size snack
for a limbering beast, into whose tumblr
of one jagged razor sharp teeth
like daggers lined up along a rack
of reinforced steel maw,
which bang for the bite did pack
leaves no room for bing a survivor
as fierce jaws clamp down
worse than getting steam rolled by a mack
truck, but subjected to thee yield,
whence thousands of pounds
per square inch of pressure
on par lambasted from Donald Trump flack.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
Deep within the bowels of the Earth
immensely distant from the sheltering sky
amidst a thick fog enveloped landscape
with here and there a projected
craggy, derelict chasm
precipitously crooked pointing toward
an infinitely wide yawning abyss
dwelt kindred spirits comprising a soul asylum
where grateful dead (albeit marked
via weathered tomb stones) hermetically sealed
once vibrant corporeal mortals
betook their eternal slumber
One among their number
included a misanthrope
who sported long straggly hair
bushy eyebrows shielding cold eyes of steel
straggly bearded clammy chin
in tandem with a hairy body
which when alive (long time ago)
upheld upon unshod feet a severely
hunchbacked ******
Within dense pitch-black terrain
(Mother Nature enlisting
a menagerie of life forms
accustomed to hellish environment)
awash with unrecognizable
alien sights and sounds
mollycoddling bewitching warlocks,
mailer daemons,
imps of the pervert chieftains, fiery
long and fostered Golems
who called underworld
their private demesne
also alluded to Marcy's playground
holding hostage Alice in Chains
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,
The Beastie Boys, The Human League, and
Village People a Crowded House
Emitting wisps of ethereal matter
appearing a small medium at large
chat snap ping, flickr ring indeed joyus minions
exalting piety a plenti
Prone ounce sing proud purgatory
promoting protean phantasmagoria
hideous hulu hoop dancing holograms
highly distorted grotesque
silent screaming sinister banshees
slithering across escarpment.
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
Absent deliberate intervention
vis a vis suicide,
supposed "natural" longevity
of generic human primate ride
ding ******** across avast
broke back mountain minus pride
defies accurate prediction,
though hypothetical
projections can override
unknown factors, whereby
excluding misfortune nationwide
(and/or globally deadly accidents,
catastrophes, diseases, mudslide,
fatalities from gunshot, et cetera)
unexpectedly arise dismissing by landslide
mortal adversity can be generally,
and more accurately spell joyride
ding calibrated to continue,
thus subsequent existence,
viz getting inside
scoop of this basic fellow, aye surmise
to continue for many another hayride
say...two score plus more orbitz,
whereat linkedin, flickr ring guide
by invisible hand snapchatting
crackling and popping fireside,
twittering whatsapp pining
during eventide,
watching virtual twilight at dockside,
witnessing artificial intelligence,
perfectly mimicking
illusory edenic countrywide
vibrantly melds scenic
ideal tonic bedside
counting black sheepish crows,
thence set sleep number
putting all worries aside
while merrily rowing boat
with gentle creatures alongside.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
For my love of the written word spoken true,
A moment, a flickr of light, captured, left for interpretation,
Inspired to live like a child, a life of play, an alternate truth,
For its laziness that drives progress, a vice, a sin,
Snapped, shuttered, sketched with light and painted with time,
A view filtered, a limit defined, beauty uncovered,
So i say, live with love, create music with colors, shoot..
Bizarre as it reads, dreams fulfilled, obstacles conquered, in the canvas gift of day..
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
(alter knit lee titled: vita in oculis nudato)
goo goo gaga I wanna yell
cuz, synonymous
with other wordsmiths,
or...well
whatever will eire'n burr,
a sought after creative
passionate pursuit aye tell
ye a boot me own aha...eureka insightful
revelation explaining
ma quotidian writing spell,
and phalanges skitter
across qwerty keyboard
at light in an attempt to quell
onslaught tidal wave crashing
upon me conscious state pell mell
which tsunami flood spongy
heady gray matter with hell
over high tide heals assailing,
bruiting, clobbering this fell
low inducing (me) to play
Handel's Semantic Water Music
on the smallish piccolo cello
which Sirens of Tighten,
(who just appeared out of thin aire -
cuz scriveners can resort
to prestidigitation to make appear
any necessary entity
without rhyme or reason),
anyway, this sylph sea Oceanids nymph
i.e. mermaids didst dee clear
particularly via
barely audible verbal communication
sotto voce en dear
ring gently beckoning
affinity this modest heir
to secret himself within secluded lair
whence, an automatic
erectile flickr, kickstarted,
levitated, and manifested
an instantaneous jubilant kik
lobbed me near
this seductive, sedulous, and sedum
scented sir experienced hypnotic stare
charming froto into trance scandent state
as if by magic the tubular
testicular proboscis didst inflate
aptly serving as modus operandi flagellate
thus proving a "happy ending" against being celibate.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC
It is funny that I am drawn to the photos he Favorited after he is gone
I see his name everywhere Mr deleted
Flickr friend to flickr what? all the net doors you have shut
I miss your words and commentary..memory will not serve me memory
Mr deleted is the only sentiment left on pages we shared
You deleted yourself how dare you
no comments left just I stare at you
Mr Deleted..your commentary is still needed
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
Her Warming fire
softly
boundlessly jumps
across Our Networks
She goes
Her Waning traces
flickr
ember memories,
binding Our years
She goes
Her Waves radiating
heat
red shifted
light years away
She goes
Our bonds rotate
oscillates
from remnant
cosmic micro waves
Still here
Our shared Star
meshing
us together
by Tholian punctuality
Still here
Protecting us now
from
moving Monsters
lurking in childhood
Still here
An elven queen
hardly
diminished yet
crossed to Valinor
she Gone
An Eternal Flame
playing
Orchestra music
fusion fresh goodbyes
She heres
Oct 3, 2019
Oct 3, 2019 at 11:08 PM UTC
I want to start off by saying
you were the most
intriguing
soul I had ever met
the way your jaw moved
when you were embarrassed
or irritated
your face would scrunch up
and you'd blink hard
letting out a gasp of sharp but smooth laughter
And I liked when
you'd think
Your eyes would flickr like
a lit candle
and every time you spoke
I couldn't help but want to bite those lips
Gently of course
I hated when you were angry
My body melted to nothing when you were sad
And it felt as if my whole body would crumble to pieces
when you just
wanted
to
be
alone
I'd lay there in bed
Thinking of you staring up at your ceiling
hoping your storm would blow over
and you were yourself again
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 8:46 PM UTC
Awareness about behavior,
present since mine days of yore
an unswerving allie analogous
to peacekeeper ending civil war
belated insight suddenly realized
(better late than never) doth underscore
incumbent proactive communication stance
belatedly bestowed omnipotent awareness
crucial fostering ingredient to shore
maternal bond above
bejesus ear splitting roar
I admit regret (to self), there
dost belie suppressed yen to pour
out sorrows 'twixt this sole him son,
and long deceased mother, he
deprived her his love and outwore
the Scottish tartan Harris tweed
welcome (haz) mat, which pained
materialized soon after her death, nor
can compensation be made,
now ex post facto,
when futility of spilt tears got more
gauged and swept away, when
nary a trace I privately cried
amidst lachrymose lakeshore.
20/20 hindsight brought me unflagging mast
into stark painful focus,
essentially how mine
formative behavior wrought avast
dystopian emotional fractured mindscape,
which non positive coping methods
lit fuse kindling devastating catastrophic blast
from yesteryear to present silent woebegone
desolate gloomy terrain past
grandeur eclipsed by present gloom
finds yours truly stranded like cast
away bleached flotsam upon coast
amidst tempestuous rocky shoals
clinging for dear life with grasp fast,
Where tenuous, precarious,
and ludicrous ship
of state can no longer maintain
even a marginal grip
but with slight equip
age willing, wedding,
and wanting brings relief from whip
lashed incurred (within body) showing rip
pulled scarred taut welts testimony, sans
long electrified with aggravation,
excruciation, and intoleration can easily flip
a figurative switch in summary
ushering final lip
service to charade,
facade, and masquerade
at lightspeed didst clip
this...Potemkin Village,
where everything "FAKE,"
asper envisioning flickr
ring mirage recounting ancient Egypt!
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 3:53 PM UTC
Unbeknownst to me if royal
gilded crests comprised
my rusty dust caked coat of arms
hence, I take liberty successfully farms
productive crop to contrive fictitious
Medieval Age forebears
with favorable charms
strong agile hands
hurling crude accouterments
centuries prior to invention of firearms,
which weapons (of mass sieve construction)
privy to proto gendarmes,
this inventiveness of mine conjures
courageous knights in shining armor,
perhaps monogrammed,
hammered chain metal,
nonetheless such endeavor quite a chore
where love's labors not lost,
viz hub bully accepting, condoning,
and employing embellishments extempore,
whereby solar rays alight,
flickr, and glint glore
re: us astral motifs, the stellar
craftsmanship one (even a poor,
indigent destitute beggar
like yours truly)
could not ignore
exquisite baldric, exotic, and heraldic
trappings incorporating magical lore
aesthetically pleasing
fascinating, and appealing to one poor
uneducated disheveled rhapsodic bohemian
incumbent jibber jabbering, hallucinating,
and fancying deplorable basket case to restore
himself, the legitimate true heir,
who could double as
courtly jesting troubadour,
whose slain grand papa Aaron Harris
violently ousted during Uber Vodafone War
constitutes dreamy gotcha your
attention fabricated and
facilitated to Zoar,
an actual ancient city
anachronistically inserted here
thanks to Lot, whose Biblical reference
Google made me aware,
which ye probably care
nary a fig about, but
placename linkedin mere
to allow, enable and provide bare,
lee tenuous appeal dare
ring me to trump
poetic formality near
rolly returning full circle (one tough Job)
manufacturing prevarication
recounting "FAKE" heir
essentially envisioning, imagining,
and jimmying gallant
high in the saddle career
timeless lifeline chess piece
of centuries gone by
enshrouded with reverence by this air
rent considerably less provocative
then missives by Baudelaire.
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 10:07 PM UTC
How refreshing to experience
a reprieve from sultry weather
when hazy, hot,
and humid warm front
unleashes a very short sweaty tether.
Man hat tin dar overcast skies
hint potential rain on the way
perchance avast dastardly
flickr ring instagram
kickstarter linkedin shutterfly
Taurus headed soundcloud
skidding across celestial
(span hushed) rink
surprising forecasters by yowl
ling whimsically, unexpectedly oye vay
training (laser like),
Asian outsize dark cloud
climatological frontispiece
randomly making next stop Old
Rotten Gotham's Greenwich Village
zero wing in on
Poor (Chuck Keys) Uruguay
neighborhood possibly confidently
foretold by meteorologists today
pointing at map showing
cold air mass as it doth sashay
July twenty first 2018, though
Mother Nature defies pre
diction pulling out all (busted) stops,
vis a vis via "her" quay
zee bag of tricks nay
saying trained forecasters ****
hush all self importance
also to humble those mere mortals
getting paid a handsome buck
by anthropomorphizing viz cluck
king in tandem with duck
billed Baritone Horn
Trumpeting "FAKE" luck
trotting out obstreperous
Sunny Rays, who doth beam
with radiance a
diametrically opposed extreme
over zealous call for precipitation
instead raining one after another quanta
bright blinding meme
outsmarting the seem
ming airtight (cat in the bag)
prediction leaving once supreme
vouchsafing without a doubt forecasters
left holding the empty bag
large enough tuff fit the whole team.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 6:21 PM UTC