"fronted" poems
there’s a barnacle scar
deeply ingrained
on the basalt stack
at mark thirty two
whispering summer winds
scented oil
cotton and roe
drift
as waves brush
and shape
the sandstone shore
the briny air
and lost erratic
set a tone to this
pollyanna portrait
it's andrews undulations
and gifted benches
its concessions
and traces of the barry burn
its sculpted driftwood
and sanko lines
make this picture
almost perfect
children play
as venom spews
from the caterwaul pair
those odd looking mates
casting smiles
with arrested despair
settling shots
swiping bugs
dipping and darting
as photo men
and muscles
and long neck seabirds
make their turn
the hunched hoody
and his sorted sidekick
get their fill
(of moss and rubble ~ chubby and kelp)
nice to meet your acquaintance
the pho man would say
an odd drop
and ironic turn
from those horrific corners
of timeless desperation
down by cannon bridge
harbor seals
and carriage horse
are fronted by
raven shade
jolly tides pause
in quiet bays
(with curious looters
and *** pickers)
sand merchants
and field totems
all streamed by the light
cirrus strands
blanket the
outer edge
hovering craft
and shimmering willows
bolt the evening frame
blood orange
and tethered
with a filtered glare
bottle-nose dolphins
and seabirds
(and shifting tides)
are all settling in
for the long night stay
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 11:21 PM UTC
they've been involving themselves
in all sorts of corrupt deals
and the ICAC
is calling them in
to give accounts
of their underhanded deals
many Labor politicians
have fronted to tell their tales
so have ****** figures
who've left not so tidy trails
the head of the commission
is apprising himself
with the corruption stealth
the shady deals
the money exchanges
those fine upstanding
legislators
caught in the net
rife these practices
have been...
and in time
they've been seen to be
not so clean
dossiers on those
who've had their hands
in the defrauding game
shall have them
well cuffed
and they'll only
have themselves to blame
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:59 AM UTC
To prolong such an absence of vexatious jove
Denying the will of instinct to arouse elation
Self-inflicted desolation in which we all strove
To create an empty shell like a fronted castration
All the while being comforted by a depressing superiority
As the uniqueness of our struggle blends in with conformity
Yearning for our relations to meet with a tragic end
Anticipating the consequence of a self-appointed woe
Glorifying our character as we passionately pretend
To endure an exclusive emotion that we all undergo
This proclamation of individuality through insipid gloom
Conveys nothing but the relative depiction of what I assume
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
I trace my fingertips across the car door
making designs in the dirt.
You yell at me,
but I can't hear you.
All I can hear is the
pounding of my heart.
The blood pumping through my body
echoes in my ears,
and your voice sounds distant.
What I imagine it sounds like after a bomb goes off to those
who were standing too close.
I stare at the the ground, the setting sun,
the neat circles of dirt on the tips of my fingers,
anywhere but at you.
Even though your looks are
bouncing off me like rubber bands,
even though your words sound
like they're going through a filter,
I can tell you are begging me to look at you.
Ears ringing, eyes stinging,
I slowly meet your gaze.
Now, I'm no lip reader,
but I could see the venom dripping
off your lips as you spoke.
There's no mistaking that foul, fricative-fronted phrase.
But I deserve it, I know.
You look as if you are about to say something else,
but you stop yourself with just a nanosecond to spare.
The words left your brain but
never made it to your tongue.
Instead, the thought manifested itself in silent tears
that dripped down your face.
Tracing my mistakes
across the the cheeks I used to caress,
down the neck I used to kiss,
toward the heart I didn't mean to break.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
On this day, 16 years ago, you passed away.
I understand what you mean when you say,
"Life Goes On!"
So even when I'm fed up,
I'll remember,
"Keep ya head up."
I'll keep going,
because I know,
in my mind,
**"Heaven Ain't
Hard 2 Find."**
Something up above,
is blessing us with,
"Unconditional Love"
I've fronted for
too many years,
for I too have shed
"So Many Tears"
You taught humanity
about humility,
and mankind,
to be kind...
"How Long Will They Mourn Me?"
Well I don't know,
but I'm certain
we will celebrate
you forever!
R.I.P.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 11:24 AM UTC
First Contact
"How did I get here,I can't remember,
my brains burning out like a dwindling ember,
are those tears in my eyes?-no its pourin' rain,
I'm lying on my back in the bottom of a stormdrain,
hunted like an animal,but still I'm deadly,
like a wounded lion,you better bet ye,
will lose more men than I've already taken(taken sample),
the hunter hunted? I think you're mistaken,
I'm a one man army,armed or not,
you didn't bring enough manpower,have you forgot?,
that the sandman(badman,phantoms in the dark)
has more in his bite than you do in your bark,
it's getting dark now,tables turning,
tyger,tyger,my eyes are burning,
better keep your guard up,I've been confronted...
but how can you tell who's hunter or hunted? 16.
Riposte
Better count your sentries,I think ones missin,
when you see his blood glistenin your pants your ****** in,
should have been listenin,I gave you a chance,
now its time for the Sandman to do his dance,
like a praying Mantis I move so swiftly,
bullet's fly like locusts,but each one missed me,
the Locus and Focus of my 3rd eyes movin,
got your sentries rifle,but I won't even use it,
taunt you haunt you,flaunt skills I honed,
from a broken home,to the streets to battlezones,
catch you alone,smash your skull with a hanbo,
appear behind you from the mud like Rambo,
bodies placed like hannibal,a deadly scene,
you're a ****** housecat and I'm wolverine,
told your boss you could get me now you know you fronted,
cat and mouse reversed-YOU'RE the one who's hunted.
Denoument
Now I know who you are,and I know where you live,
and in this line of work I can't forget or forgive.
We were partners once now you've betrayed my trust,
taught you everything you know,now it's ashes and dust
your bodyguards are good,but they know I'll get ya,
more ghost than man,a modern day ninja,
leave you injured,begging for mercy,
but you know the concept is alien to me,
grabbed the bull by the horns,my hand you forced,
you're a moveable object,I'm unstoppable force,
force feed your limbs til you beg for death,
line your family up and slowly take their heads,
then I'm in the wind,gone like keyser sozey,
the word is spread,don't try to **** me,
you were my friend,but you crossed the line,
try to hunt the Sandman,"you're all ****** dyin"
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC
An Old Loner...
Let anger replace the yoke of an egg,
Chicks born in turmoil, soon left, to beg;
Shell is damaged with just one evil peck,
The Cuckoo landed,on different deck.
She placed evil eye on this christmas bird,
Made sure it kept him, away from the hurd.
He's the loner, emotional recluse,
The outward bounder, who discovered the truth.
Floundered on falsification and lies
All he needed was truth to devise,
A cup full of natural happy stings
That gifts the hope that church bells still ring.
Bay fronted windows, a mirror on life
Remembers that smile, the last from his wife.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
Oh the duality
There's no neutrality
Only reality
Stored in your mind.
What of this atrophy
Discount integrity
Chase after perjury
Hoarding the lie.
And to this enmity
What is the remedy
From this extremity
Where can I hide?
Notice the brevity
End of the melody
It's your identity
Searching inside.
Find you calamity
Soak in the density
Plundered is empathy
Fronted by pride.
With all intensity
Bring on indemnity
Forfeit amenity
Bow and you die.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
Why do crime exist?
It's the community.
Who seem to accept it?
Afraid to report it.
Love to complain about it.
Even blaming law enforcement.
Who need every law abiding citizen assistance?
We aware that nobody's perfect.
Except we can't let criminals install fear within us.
Even if it's your son, daughter, friend , or cousin.
Oh, it affect all of us.
Especially the repeat offenders.
Who seem to love being held?
Or having their name linked to bail.
There's nothing great about being linked to a number.
Which you will be assigned within the correctional walls of prison.
Where you're not guarantee to receive any visitors?
Why do crime exist?
Simply because a few idiots seem to tolerate it.
Then complain to the politicians.
Who address the issues?
Then becomes linked to the problem.
When they personally commit a crime.
Then complain, they shouldn't have to serve time.
In other words.
When it's them, we should turn a blind eye.
Who made you become a ****** robber , murderer or embellezzer?
Or a ********* besides bad decision.
The world could be so much better.
If we decide to fight crime.
Don't complain about those legally with guns.
They mostly for defense to keep from being fronted with harm.
But don't cry foul.
When your child meets death from a gun trying to rob someone.
It is, what it is?
And this have nothing to deal with the second amendment.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 6:52 AM UTC
Andrew Gn
Probably the most prolific Singaporean designer, Gn graduated from the renowned Saint Martins School of Art and Design in London and the Domus Academy in Milan before joining Emanuel Ungaro in 1992. He launched his namesake label in 1996, establishing a fan base among the Parisian high society and A-list celebrities such as Jessica de Rothschild and Sarah Jessica Parker for his luxurious fabrics and exquisite embellishments. Gn was awarded the President’s Design Award in 2007 and is stocked in all the major continents, with his atelier based in the Le Marais district in Paris.
Ashley Isham
The other Singaporean high fashion designer to hit big time in the international circuit, Isham established his namesake label in London in 2000, and is a show fixture at London Fashion Week. The label is known for its sharp, contemporary tailoring and high-octane glamour, and is a hit among film, TV and music stars as well as British royalty.
Aijek
Self-taught designer Danelle Woo creates easy-breezy, ultra-feminine pieces in sustainable fabrics. Aijek is stocked at multi-label boutiques in China, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Indonesia, Latin America, the Middle East and the United States.
Depression
The neo-Gothic ready-to-wear label’s stark, minimalist designs are stocked in Hong Kong, Belgium, Japan and the U.S., and counts celebrities like Adam Lambert and The Black-Eyed Peas as fans.
Sabrina Goh
The feted Singaporean designer stocks her easy-to-wear pieces from her namesake label at multi-label boutiques in the United States, the Fred Segal store in Japan and a London-based online store Not Just A Label.
Max Tan
The avant-garde label features experimental silhouettes and a contemporary artistic flair, and is stocked in Europe, the Middle East, San Francisco and Taiwan.
Benjamin Barker
This stylish menswear brand founded by designer Nelson Yap in 2009 now has two stores in Melbourne and offers custom tailoring as well. It also offers shipping to Australia and New Zealand via its website BenjaminBarker.co. .
In Good Company
The well-loved minimalist label with unusual silhouettes fronted by designers Sven Tan and Kane Tan is stocked in Hong Kong at Kapok, at various departmental stores in Jakarta, Indonesia, including Sogo, Seibu and Galleries Lafayette Jakarta and in New York’s Saks Fifth Avenue.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
when you pulled my trigger,
did you smile, lioness?
ricochet, ricochet.
did i want you?
for security i suppose.
when you kiss him,
will you think of me?
i doubt it.
feed my self-loathing machine.
it's hungry.
all the nights
are all mine.
all the girls,
they got no time.
all the nights
will find you in his arms.
all the girls
will conspire against me, alright?
manufacture fine ******* feelings,
smile quazi-sincere,
i never, you never, i never meant anything.
i fell for you fast, lioness.
that is always a turn-off.
i should have been an *******
that's your type.
********
i kissed you.
but it didn't matter.
your breath went heavy,
but it doesn't matter.
i ended a relationship for you,
but it doesn't matter.
it's a fashionable game,
i fronted as a washed up bukowski-type,
and when you found out i was nice
you disowned me,
understandable move.
copingstrategies.copingstrategies.copingstrategies.
bring on the vultures.
i'll make them songs,
coffee,
and friendly emotions.
pick me apart,
promise i can watch.
pick me apart,
promise i can watch.
let the beautiful boy tame you, lioness.
your hundreds of miles away, anyhow.
let me turn to vapor.
don't talk to me.
don't ask around about me.
answers will frighten.
answers will anger.
i am barely alive.
you were selfish.
i am barely alive.
you were selfish.
you never paid me a compliment
only talked of all the other lovers.
you never cared what i had to say
only talked of your own experience each day.
i thought you were different in your own way.
your different in the same way.
turn to grey.
**** him and your pain away.
i ended everything to begin again.
i ended everything and nothing started.
i ended and found myself in the abyss.
hellhole, hope you aren't happy.
i'm malaise.
i'm the wasp nest.
if you ask to rekindle.
i'll douse myself,
and set myself to flame before
you ever get near.
don't anybody touch the remnants of me.
i want to die this way.
i want to die everyday.
i miss the comfort of everything.
i don't have the energy to start again,
nor do i have the self-esteem to move my feet,
i was wrong,
no dancing at my end times,
just knives,
fevers, and cobwebs.
i laughed out of irony.
i laughed out of spite for me.
goodnight everything.
Sep 10, 2010
Sep 10, 2010 at 11:31 PM UTC
I can't stand this fragile state of mind
A blinding vision of how life is supposed to be
Seeing nothing but what's between the lines
Stuttering twitches from a peripheral fantasy
Rising every morning with a new friend to find
Death exists in sleep and dwells in lifes' design
We're walking in our own shoes with someone elses eyes
Mirrors gaze back with a hysterical laugh from reailty
A weakening sight that the proud could never realize
Or the smirking girls who get off on their honesty
We're all hung up on something that helps us play this game
An overwhleming emotion that paints our visions frame
Tainting the meaning of individuality through a fronted scene
Re-shaped compositions built from our iconic halucinations
Living behind a hollow imagery with a profound fixation
Of a subjective self portrait on an illuminated petistel
A last hope for some sort of unconditional comfort refill
These words live in place of who I once had been
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
Sometimes words are weapons
Add an s or a certain order and
They will cut to the bone,
Eviscerate a bowel,
Destroy a dream,
End a life,
Break a lovelorn heart
Other times sans s fronted
They caress a weary cheek,
Lift up a tired soul
And reassure a faltered
Dream that its time
Too will come to
Faultless fruition
We speak thousands of words
Every day of our lives
Without thought,
And spoken they come
With added edges and jagged spurs
Of intonation, tone,
Expression
Or with balm for healing,
Warmth for the cold
Respite for the bewildered
Mind and soul
Lifting up repairing all
And making good
On harm
But beware the poem
Most of all! for it
Is a fearsome trap
For the unready author
Who writhes upon the created flow
Struck from their own verse
Read well by another,
For poems tell our truth
Warts and all,
And like singing lay us bare
To critic judge and common herd,
Who hear, absorb
And find us whole and
Nowhere left to hide,
We are forced to face
Reaction,
Reaction to our souls and hearts
Captured upon a pen's point,
Pinned to a board or a page
And read aloud
Where all can see
And what do you hear?
What do you see?
My God you see
The real and naked,,
The one and only,
Me.....
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 8:43 AM UTC
there stood the queen
in her dressing gown
upon her face she wore
a very long frown
for she had lost
her diamond and ruby crown
she hoped it would be found
before sundown
she called Scotland Yard
to search every locale
as without her crown
she'd be an unadorned gal
inspector Jones arrived
in his ex-army jeep
telling the queen
that he'd catch the thieving creep
he thoroughly combed
every inch of England
he even looked under
the white Dover sands
a lady in central Manchester
gave him an address
saying that a felon in Soho
had the crown of queen Bess
high and low in the streets
of Soho he did look
to find this most
cunning and stealthiest of crooks
by a measure of luck
he found him sitting on a park bench
he was talking to
a criminal associate named Roger Dench
the inspector seized the felon
and cuffed his hands
saying pilfering won't be tolerated
in any part of England
at Scotland he grilled
him for information
about the queen's crown
which he pinch without hesitation
some three days later
he fronted an Old Bailey judge
who sentenced him
to sixteen years of jail drudge
overjoyed was the queen
to have her crown back
she could now wear it
to The Ascot Race Track
the inspector was knighted
by good queen Bess
as he was a fine man
at the detection profess
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
Defunct steam punk
on the top bunk
smelled skunk and shrunk
into a trunk.
Funky crunk juice
with floating chunks
of dunked *****
shot from a Monk’s junk.
Spelunker, a drunkard,
bucks ****** up truck drivers
hiding behind tree trunks…
the schmuck.
Clunky blunt, fronted
musky, and held by a hunk
flunked the test
and was debunked
in Timbuctoo.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC
One amazing hanger holds my tuxedo.
One clever little 5 ounce piece of plastic and metal conformed into the shape of a bony set of shoulders carries the slim weight of my most formal outfit. It hangs proudly draped in shiny black, pretending to be me when I myself don't don the suit.
Once my affair is over I replace the material to its home. Dressing the hanger as I did myself. Pants first, folded width wise over the pleated front then length wise over the bar that so nicely holds them. Then the shirt fronted with a dozen or more ruffles goes upon the plastic-ly skeletal shoulders. Around the shepherds hook goes the cummerbund and bowtie, both relaxed as if ready to take some time off. Finally the form fitted jacket falls delicately into place, like a foot into a sock. It knows where it belongs, always the exterior, protecting the snow white shirt it envelops. Now the entirety of the contents of the hanger slip inside the black plastic body bag intended to hold such articles. Then as if a corpse, it hangs in my closet until next time.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
her age not so much mattering she talked on the twins she was about to have. I held the hands of my mothers and each fronted their stomachs with full baskets. my own stomach was in its prime and not yet the space beneath my breasts. I wondered at that point had I heard, ever, a man speak. a song came to me but it was tucked as in a church. my mothers on either side of me were not meant for this genre of grocery. the low singing, the bulk rice. we would the three of us go home that night to our videocassette of Witness. it falls today under thriller and or drama but we knew it as horror. mr. ford bends the boy’s finger in the police station but not backward, instead forward, instead very maternal.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 11:13 AM UTC
I lay my lighter on the title written Fire
I crawl inside a bedded box
relieve my body of attire
I tend to sleep on the right half
(the left half needs sweeping)
I need to quit seeing you lying there
I need to quit this all-night-drinking
Now who's thinking for me while I think about you ?
*certainly not the same brain
that's been trained
to think things t h r o u g h*
what do I do now
wanting to do you
do I
sit sit in this room
& *bang myself blue ?
do I do myself stupid
or ask again what to do ?*
I am through with it
i'm through
I know just what to do
busting through lust's must
I get fronted by the view
this front of you
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
All of the shacks and houses and double
fronted mansions
lie in the vicinity
of a town no-one’s really
heard of which in turn lies
there because of the shacks and houses
and double fronted mansions.
Neither would exist without the other
and nothing would happen without them,
the people are insignificant... there’s no politician
no diplomat or embassy worker here,
there’s no world leading bio-chemist or
any line of royalty behind the slats of wood
or the red brick and bay window fronts.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
Freedom isn't freedom when you think about it really
When there is no other way to live
Trapped by societal pressures and stressors to be something greater or lesser
But it's not really who you are
Enriched with your own self-esteem
Nothing from pill, powder, or green
Controlled of the station viewed
But that's not how they want it
All the companies have fronted
Thousands of dollars for their revenue
It's freedom from the free
That's what we're looking for
Freedom from the free
For ever and ever more
Freedom from the free
What's playing on channel four
Freedom from the free
Television stations do not exist anymore
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 1:22 PM UTC
Make her love you with a whisper
Entrap her with a kiss.
Pick flowers for her,
Selected for their qualities.
Wrap them up and tie them tight.
For true love is exciting when visible before her eyes.
Sir,
Be wise before you prise her fingers out from your hands.
Love lasts forever.
It makes no demands
Think before retreating of the love you shared before.
Angels danced on flighty feet believing that your love were true.
From topaz blue horizons her ring she'll give to you.
You will answer her calling upon bended knees.
Begging of her, her sweet hand in marriage.
Carried forever in a glass fronted carriage.
Love will be forever and forever hangs upon a sunny day.
(c)LIVVI
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
I was happy with that life
time being
but you changed up
started chillen on a different block
you were differently treated with
different clothes
new chain and slang talk
cigarettes lips to fit in//
carcinogen lungs
to impress them with the tar black esophagus compressed in your chest cough
now you walking different too
and them kids got you locked
and even tighter than a *****
I just knew it
when you fronted them up on that block
but if you got shot up
you know they wouldn't have your
back unless it was to steal your coat keys
and wallet leave you ****** dead or not
and hey I'm just saying
you started changing
and I can see this kind of ****
happening when everything around
YOU started changing...
look I don't want you to be suffering
but I try and warn you
about the world we're in
love isn't anger
love is black and blue
come stranger times like
love isn't "who can take the first blow"
love isn't hands around a throat
love isn't here
so don't come back no more.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 9:14 PM UTC
Where was I now, oh I remember, I had outstayed my welcome at Shotton,
"There have been too many complaints, the local farmer had had enough."
"Enough of what" I frowned, surely he couldn't mean me! "Anyway, I have had enough of this place, we are moving South, to a place called Sunbury on Thames, he smiled. "Your mum has your Christmas present, be extra good or you won't get any present at all." The weeks seemed to drag by, Dad had been ill and things had been delayed. Things were moving at last. Dad had bought a double fronted shop, It had been a ladies hairdressers., called Georgina's, it was done out in attractive pink tiles. My brother Jim grinned. "We'r in the pink, at last." My dad's machines took up a lot of room, we had a sewing machine, a stitching machine , a blake stitching machine , a finishing machine, a cutter ,a skiver, a stretcher, a work bench with two pivot's, and a shelf below with a complete set of iron lasts, from tiny toddlers size up to the largest Policeman's boot. That's a little joke, nearly. "When we get busy you will have to help, I'll show you how to make shoes, you can start by doing repairs, there is a lot to learn, I expect you to dig in." He frowned. "I can't believe I said that."
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
We read about the latest victm upon the news.
And the criminal thinking it was cool to assault you.
What man is this?
We read about the latest home invasion in the news.
And the criminals that created the pain.
What man is this?
When fronted to pay for their crimes by being hunted.
Don't they always seems to run.
And when fronted by the law authorities with their guns.
Don't many come across as only punks.
So what man is this?
We notice even those locked up in jail or prison.
Only seems to twist the reason they their.
Criminals running around with one another talking about their fairy tales.
What man is this?
Rehabilitation is strictly their goal.
Except its up to a real man to meet that goal.
Many still create havoc between cell doors.
So, what man is this?
Strange when criminal must pay for their time.
They break down like weak boys with tears in their eyes.
Sure they might deserve a second chance.
But many time the women that loves them.
Knew of their consequences.
A man that don't work.
Doesn't deserve that title of man.
Especially when they state hard labor might make them tired.
Ask yourself?
What man is this?
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 10:26 AM UTC