"flipflops" poems
I was on my way to a party
Dressed in heels and a crop top
When I entered the corner store
To purchase some snacks
And on my way to the cashier
A man standing in an aisle
Browsing through peanuts
Glanced up and stopped mid-search
When I clicked past him
And proceeded to uncomfortably stare
I walked into the gas station
Wearing dark wash jeans and a v-neck
With my best friend at 2 AM
When two drunken men stumbled in
And began eyeing us up and smirking
My friend leaned in to me and whispered,
"I'm really scared."
Overhearing her, one man elbowed the other
And with a smile on his face taunted,
"Oh no, we're scaring them."
I was at the laundry mat one night
Wearing shorts and a baggy shirt
When a middle aged man across the room
Kept gawking at me from over the washers
Uneasy, I went outside to smoke
To which he stood at the window
And kept a close eye on me
I called a friend and stayed on the phone
Because I was afraid to go back
And get my clothes alone
I stepped out of my vehicle
In my sweatpants and flipflops
To grab some cigarettes quick
When a white bearded man
Was already at my heels
"Hey, how're you honey?"
I quickly replied, "fine".
And hurried into the store
Without looking back
It seems like every time I leave the house
It doesn't matter what I'm wearing
It could be "provocative" or a burlap sack
I always end up feeling threatened
Heartbeat in my ears
Cold sweat on my back
So don't blame it on my outfit
Don't blame it on my actions
Because I'm not asking for it
I just want to be left alone
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC
Late September creeps and greets like an old friend
Now we know we've reached Summers End
Lawnmowers rest as a rakes job is about to begin-
A crisp breeze (like a lover) caresses my chin
And now we know we've reached Summers End
The leaves I see are turning from green to a sickly yellow-
Autumn around the bend
Now we know we've reached Summers End
Flipflops for boots- tank tops for sweaters
Soon our mailboxes will be filled with holiday letters
Fireflies play a Mason Jar Melody,
Scarecrows orchestrate a beautiful harmony,
Forcing summertide to yield in jealousy
A foretaste of past recollection,
An embrace of the years reflection
To hard to comprehend
We've reached Summers End.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 2:13 PM UTC
The coolest ****
Is found in all sorts of places
In the middle of nowhere
Don't know what pushed me to go there
At the bottom of a pile
Boy did that take me a while.
One color matches all
Wearing it from spring to fall
Dark and savvy round and round
Doesn’t even weigh a pound
The smaller the better I say
Though there more and more you have to pay
It feels like the extension of my body
With these you will never go faulty
Flat feet bring you closer down
Heel pain like biting hounds
What we have is a relationship
A strictly love hate regiment
It's not obsessive, recurring from the past
Small and simple is all I ask
Two, three colors it's too much
Add a pattern and I feel stuffed
Soft foam flat from all our travel
But we're proud of the mysteries we unravel
Top plastic makes us tangle tight
Sometimes you give my edges fight
I'd never trade you for the world
You’re my Flip Flops, You're my girl.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 10:04 AM UTC
*It was the kind of day
to visit a fortune teller.*
Your faint smile remains a mystery,
because you preserve yourself
more than anything.
You prophesy at will and turn wheels.
That is what you do best.
Candle wax dare not scald you.
Strings are woven long.
The day I cut my hair was a cool summer,
two weeks before my birthday.
I left town never to come back.
Your daughters laughed so hard
at the money you threw their way they
probably had spit coming out of their eyes.
That was what they wanted.
It was simple, clean.
*The child is young,
he won't know the difference*,
convinced yourself thus,
but young 'uns do. They know more
than you ever let on, and they remember,
not the glaring presents or permission to speak moments,
it's the little things, the lilt in your voice
the brush aside look, the pursed lips,
the endless drone of the television
and ipad volume turned up max.
Allow me to demonstrate.
The sky before and after a thunderstorm is the same shade,
but the land changes,
and the air that breathes in it.
The slight rustle in the trees could mean anything.
Indian spirits once danced around the flames
summoning blessings and visions
that may never come.
Yet, in my dreams were two apples --
green and red, both eaten by worms.
They grew voracious in my hands.
I bathe in heated waters and scrub
lavender and chamomile.
The stew left in the pressure cooker was soft and fell apart,
little droplets of oil cling to me,
I am scented thus.
On a footbridge, I see
the once pristine ground muddied and stars
replaced by fireworks.
Couples hold hands
and smile for any reason.
Taxis come and go, foraging
the next big opportunity.
My flipflops are fine
but my feet are freezing.
I can order coffee
with what I have left
but don't.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC
sideways rain
gloomy clouds
wind howling through the halls
I cant believe I wore sandals....
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 3:15 AM UTC
my feet had barely greeted california
when my face matched the new summer,
cheeks blooming uneven,
eyes green as moss
and every face i glared upon
avoided looking too long.
walking through my least favorite airport
chin high, silent and ugly and wet,
i grieved for myself, i pitied my future, and mourned my past.
something lodged in my throat screamed with more assurance
and clarity and confidence than i have ever known
"this is not where i belong!"
i cried for my feet no longer squishing silica on white beaches
old skin disappearing in tiny fish
or kissing rainforest mulch, under-dressed in flipflops
taunting flora and fauna and fate
i cried for my skin, abused and bronzed
exfoliated in world heritage parks, the first shower in days
and oiled from water crossings in a run-down four wheel drive
a beard of blemishes i didn't bother to hide.
i cried for my ears, robbed of every accent,
of the crashing waves and roar of waterfalls,
or the same six songs played in every club in cairns
and the pterodactyl screech of flying foxes.
i cried for my hair, for my hands, for my nose.
i cried for my mouth and my tongue and my legs.
mostly, i cried for the death of laughter that started in the
pit of my stomach and rose up like carbonation
to my chest and my lungs and my neck and burst
like floodwaters in dorrigo
the elation and exhilaration and euphoria of being alive
that spilled out of me in screams and shrieks
and bubbled and flushed and insisted
so fiercely so strongly so urgently
that to relent was not even a choice but a right
and then half a year later
i sat dully in a fluorescent corridor at my transfer terminal
feeling my heart retreat, defeated
dreading the long months ahead
promising nothing but drudgery and boredom
letting the tears drip onto my boarding pass
black ink lamenting, too
and not a single person approached
or spoke to me
until i asked to wash away the moment
with a diminutive bottle of ***
a mile from the surface.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
You saved me on your desktop
A cyber purgatory every night
I see all your bits and all of your bytes
I'm tacked onto your back drop
Listening to all your lies and all your hiphop
Going through all your pictures, like the tinted frame of your sandy beach flipflops
And the guy you met at that party last night, the one that really hit it off
What am I to you?
Was I ever your addiction
Or was I just the drug that caused this confliction
Or was every word you spoke fiction
Why do I sing about you, you don't exist
You were just a figment of my imagination
Something I wrote, maybe it wasn't your novel at all
You were just someone I met, I never knew You were just part of the crowd
You were just one voice, I heard you, loud
They say you can only actually love a person once
Leaves my mind trailing through breakfast and lunch
With no decision by dinner, maybe a hunch
You were just someone I saw at night, you were my alcohol, you were my blood thinner
I'll never actually know you
You were my moonshine, and you were still
You didn't say anything, I spoke for you
I am god, I created you
You are the end of every line I write
You're the only one I see at night
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
No passport, no sunscreen
No travel plug or euros
No flipflops no shorts, just pockets of ammo
No loungers for Germans to throw there towels on
Just constant explosions and lead from their guns
One minute standing, next second gone..
This is what father spoke of the Somme
We came in our thousands and no package trip
We fell face first the moment we hit
Get off the beach the voices screamed!
Running head on into bullets and bombs
Bodies laid strewn dead on the wire.
Now I return, will be my last time
You just see sand and a holiday town
I see the ghosts of the friends I once knew
Their faces are clear the screams are as well
Remember them please, I beg don't forget
For they gave their all to stand here today.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 8:11 AM UTC
walking down the alley
midday walk with my dog
Hey he says
nice day isn't it
he's a chicago native obviously
it's forty degrees
and he's in shorts, a T shirt
and flipflops
yes I say
wearing my gilet and heavy coat
it's nice with the sun out,
summer soon he says
and it'll be
too damm hot again
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 10:09 PM UTC
Shaky hands,
As you lift the,
Glass to your lips.
If you breathe wrong you waste ****
That's what I've learned at least,
From you.
Stealing kisses,
Under moonlight.
We don't need drugs,
We're high off life.
Adrenaline pumping through our veins,
As we silently,
Quietly,
Run up the road,
Bare foot,
Holding flipflops,
So your mom doesn't hear us,
Running away from the house,
From our demons.
Only we exist,
In this nightly world,
Darkness surrounds us,
But its not scary,
Its comforting.
Heaving chests,
Lips connect.
We're tired from chasing a feeling,
Out of breathe from running away,
And i'll always have you,
Nothing can take you away.
Its summer, and we're teenagers,
And we're stupid.
We're getting married one day anyways.
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 10:55 PM UTC
You aren't the luxury of a seven star hotel
You aren't the fun of a pub or disco
But you are the comfort of my old childhood house
You are the one i call home
You aren't the perfection of a well fitted suit
You aren't the glamour of a short dress
But you are that blue grandma's sweater
Which keeps me warm when the nights are cold
You aren' the playfullness of sneakers
Neither you are the beauty of high heels
But you are those old shabby flipflops
Whose flat sole keeps me closer to the floor
You aren't the cool friend i party with
You aren't that hot colleague in the office
But you are the the only one i talk to
Whenever this whole world makes me feel alone
You aren't that lipstick which makes me look bold
You aren't the lip gloss which allures everyone
But you are the lip balm i use every night
To heal the cracks of life,my love
You aren't the passionate kisses of love
You aren't the make out sessions at night
But you are the one whose arms i run to
When all the pleasure of love is gone
You aren't my highschool or college boyfriend
You aren't the love of my life
But you are the one who matters the most
While the stupid world calls it friend zone
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC
mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mm
in a swirl of
cards, spoons, cereals,
books, brooms, thermometers,
laundry, photos, flipflops,
knives, gifts, rollerblades,
dishes, yogurts, candy,
catfood, homework, pajamas,
cartons of milk, tickets,
money, toys, sweaters,
hats, bags, sandwiches,
phones, pants, messages,
icecreams, umbrellas, lunches,
handcrafts, letters, bottles,
breakfasts, shampoos, succus
and tattarrattat
this
little bitty pretty one
is lost
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 2:34 AM UTC