"fussed" poems
did you know
that the
self effulgent light
of God it self
is **** shaped
as above so below
the inner revelation
******* above...light woven
*** hole below ...flesh woven
does this not infer
a magical operation
perhaps a hermetic
ritual of adoration
perhaps a puja
to the ****
with ornate
kaleidoscopic mandalas
replete with wrinkles
and folds
emerald toilet bowls
silk *** wipe
with full color florals
to be ingratiated
by **** art prints
and to be fussed over
and judged
by certified *******
clergy
then to cleanse
with fragrant ointments
that it may remain
unsullied by its
birthing labors
voluptuous
smoldering
fecundations
for purities sake
as god remains
free of limitation
it too
must remain
free of its forgetful
tarnished children
i build temple of ****
high above the people
the little *****
do they
even know
where they come from
how they may
devote themselves
to the grandeur
of the solar ****
and its bestowals
of clumpy torpedoes
the catechism
of the solar ****
to know
to adore
to prostrate
to proselytize
the glory of ****
to the
for corners
of the earth
to be faithful
unto it
to be obedient
and present
your *******
for ritual manicures
by the true initiates
the fussy
******* faeries
those who have
the secret knowledge
and remain true
to the lore
and precepts
set forth
of divine correspondences
to fully appreciate
its eminence
its glory
and have no
God before it
that mercy
will follow them
all the days
of there lives*
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
Never allowed to grow
Beyond ornamental,
Small perfect leaves
On small well pruned branches;
To please the eye
Of miniature torturers.
Cramped in a micro life,
Roots restrained
Within un-natural boundaries.
The promise of a tree
Never really fulfilled,
Beyond a whisper.
Fussed over relentlessly,
Like an O.C.D.
Perfect shape and form,
Trained from natural beauty,
To sit on a shelf
Hidden from reality.
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 5:55 PM UTC
A bee with innards spilling
A lost tabby,
A blimp caught up in trees,
Tintern Abbey.
The gravestone of a lover,
A drowning ship,
An NHS delivery of
Fortisip.
A girl with alopecia and
Fungail nails,
A one legged pigeon,
Exploding whales.
Ivy choked churches,
Merlot tongues,
Parrots plucking feathers,
Marlboro lungs.
Girls locked up in attics,
*** toys.
Boys punching girls
And punching boys.
Babies crowning
Fussed about like kings.
Darlings,
You shall see such pretty things.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
my grandfather from liverpool
and my father too
sat in the kitchen
and discussed nothing new
tired from a long day on the busses
he fell into a trouble slumber in
his arm chair
he thrashed and fussed
we his family would quietly gather
cries of protest and stifled incredulity
cut the warm air
the great grandfather ticked..
(before television
or we listened to arther askey)
he was a proud man
with right of way..
he told the boss to f himself
if he were n´t a gentleman..
what he would make of this
world today..
so,he went through his day
and we tried not to laugh
the man who earned his wage
tired of this ********
i guffawed and he woke
he fixed us with his pale
beautiful eyes..
and later the next morning
in the lovely little back
garden
in the hushed roar
he said we would be friends..
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 5:08 AM UTC
The devil beats his wife in Louisiana
Hot wet rain
Pounds on the glassy window
And you, my friend
You sit
Brunette and brutal
Heart pounding like hot rain
Who though metal could be so heavy
Who thought guns weren’t all that hard to find
Who thought you were twisted and planning and deep
I didn’t
Slipping little things into speech
I said it was hot
You said you legs were melting into the pavement
Bones brittle and burning
I fussed about the math exam
You said about the teacher
We should just **** her
And I thought:
That’s just dark humor
I can appreciate Aronofsky and black sarcasm
Now you stand up
I sit a wall apart
Drumming my pen
Tap tap tap tap tap
The rain comes down
Tap tap tap tap tap
A gun goes off
Tap tap tap tap tap
I cannot move
My feet have melted into the floor
Your head is a grenade
And I held the pin
Between my teeth
Like an apricot pit
I didn’t speak
I said nothing
Kept you trapped
****** and dangerous
Condemned to this world that fit you so ill
Bang bang
And the locks are feeble
The kids are quiet
Anticipation
Funny how nothing but mass ******
Could zip their ******* mouths
Like a start gun
The panic begins
You paint the walls red
Wounded scared kids run chaos to the door
And you
You are the eye in a hurricane
A cataract in the Nile
You are still
And my feet are cemented
To the ******* ground
And hold my eye contact
And hold it
I want to say this pretty
I want to give you some glorious macabre
I want to make you gruesome poetry
But I cannot
And you blow your ******* brains out
And my feet stay cemented
Until the police come to clean up
The mess you made
The television says you’re a monster
Papers argue teenage corruption
I don’t know
I don’t know
I don’t know
As I stand
White shoes toeing the lip
Contemplating the traffic below me
And the life you shattered and left
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
No drugs for me they **** with my head
No alcohol either
I say everything that shouldn't be said
Videogames are just no fun
Binge watching **** can make me come undone
Reading gets boring
So does Facebook, pinterest and Skype
Hanging out with some people PAH
I don't have a single one who's my type
I don't like the gym or watching movies all day
I don't like children I never learned how to play
I'm not fussed on cooking and sewing gets old
I've grown out of my friends
That's a fact I've been told
So what can a person do when they don't click with the rest
And being alone brings tears no less
It looks like I'll never fit in
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
the neighbor has just started to mow
cutting grass is his favorite pastime
he manicures the lawn nice and low
the sound of the mower's droning chime
seems to be sweet music to his ears
cutting grass is his favorite pastime
his lawns kept tidy over many years
the grass not allowed to get too long
seems to be sweet music to his ears
he's oft heard singing a barber's song
as he trims the lawn with his old Rover
the grass never allowed to get too long
he takes pride in his patch of clover
the blades of grass never look mussed
as he trims the lawn with his old Rover
about his yard he's meticulous and fussed
the blades of grass never look mussed
the neighbor has just started to mow
he manicures the lawn nice and low
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 5:51 AM UTC
Poem a day, day 24
Watching the Kardashians on TV at work
He says 'Oh I hate them'
'Isn't she engaged to so-and-so?'
Really? If you 'hate' them why do you follow what they do?
I'm not particularly fussed on the Kardashians
For that reason I don't know
What's going on in their life.
Really not interested.
Because I don't know about them
I don't know them well enough
To decide to hate them.
I guess some people enjoy negativity.
Continuing comments on the people involved
Why are their lives so important to you?
Perhaps if you hate them, avoid them?
Sure it's none of my business
But I can't avoid your opinion
I would be happy to do so.
Please keep it none of my business.
Just like the Kardashians
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
Ms. Naomi you were such a surprise. I did not know what to think where I heard that you were coming. When I looked into those big pretty eyes I fell in love. You were born with sarcasm and a warm heart.
You are like your grandma.
At just a few weeks you and your Mommy were arguing. You wanted to eat and she was learning to feed you. You pushed her and fussed and she fussed back. I knew then that you were a fighter.
One day as I held you your eyes were closed.
I kept trying to get you to open them. You turned your nose up and turned your head. I thought this child is mean. You then turned back around and smiled. I have been in love with you every since. You are such a beautiful baby girl. Your Grandma loves you. Thank you for being mine.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 10:17 PM UTC
the neighbor has just started to mow
cutting grass is his favorite pastime
he manicures the lawn nice and low
the sound of the mower's droning chime
seems to be sweet music to his ears
cutting grass is his favorite pastime
his lawn kept tidy over many years
the grass not allowed to get too long
seems to be sweet music to his ears
he's oft hear singing a barber's song
as he trims his lawn with his old Rover
the grass not allowed to get too long
he takes pride in his patch of clover
the blades of grass never look mussed
as he trims the lawn with his old Rover
about his yard he's meticulous and fussed
the blades of grass never look mussed
the neighbor has just started to mow
he manicures the lawn nice and low
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 4:03 AM UTC
I'm just going to start off with this
a fairytale that was beautiful all filled with bliss
You and I is what I miss
I miss your touch and your kiss
Perfection was never found between us
but we created it but then we fussed
I got comfortable and lazy
fueled with bitterful lust
I lied to you hurt you but where did it end?
A broken heart, tissue boxes
Love that cannot mend
To wish that I was direct
is all that I should have been
acknowledged there were problems
where else I was keen
I lost my sight of you
I lost a part of me
Thinking this was a dream
believed to have gone green.
Now that you are gone
I know that it's over
To think you and I'd come to an end
I still wish upon a four leaf clover
It was both of us
things didn't work out
nature took the course
it's not what I'm all about
I wish i'd hit send
text you what i'm thinking
but i know it'd just annoy you
the hazard lights be blinking.
I know that if this went to your phone
Our love is absolute wreckage
but I'd type backspace before you'd know it
it's just an unsent message.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 6:41 AM UTC
She met me by the river and turned her cheek to the sun
taunting it. Her willingness could cause a mark in red,
like a statue she sits so still.
My feet dangle in the river, which she dare not touch and I know
why she must stay so fussed with the pray that is all in her head,
to think she may die.
Or end up dead down some dark dingy creek
gives me no better reason to meet her here where she knows, her
friends. To say goodbye is to become a foe with the daring woman.
So I just hope that she'll turn her head and pull the mask to her chin.
To look me in the eye and scream in my face,
that I might die tomorrow.
Even though I know she could strike me down this minuet,
with the river raging i'd close my eyes,
to the fish flailing, and my friends across the waters.
To the beat of the rapids, i'd happily die.
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 9:08 AM UTC
It is time to compile, as it has been a while
and it is worthwhile, to trial
an animal style, that is very versatile.
So, tonight we will do and so-with accrue,
an insight into something funky and spunky,
and do a little Kung Fu Monkey.
But not the whole training sessions,
will be spent on our Monkey Expression,
we will also train, some kung fu just plain.
So, come to training tonight you must,
just come, do not be fussed, else you will rust
your kung fu skills and health too will go bust.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
One day
I noticed that
Things didn't matter
To her
Anymore.
Not calories
(Which she counted meticulously)
Nor clothes
(Which she scrutinized routinely)
Not even
Her hair
(Which she fussed over ridiculously)
One day
I noticed that
The spark
In her eyes
Was missing.
One day
I noticed
Her sitting outside
In the rain.
Soaked but you could tell
She was crying.
I asked her.
She told me, she was trying to bring him back.
She sat under that tree when it rained
Because its where he first kissed me
She said.
She traced his kiss over her lips
And tried to bring him back
Through the power of her memories.
One day
I noticed how often she laughed
But so little smiled
I asked her
She told me.
Her smile was taken
By the boy who took her heart.
One day
I asked her.
She told me.
He jumped,
He was just looking up at the sky
And then all of the sudden
He was gone.
Not a word,
Not a cry.
All he ever wanted
Was to die.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 3:48 AM UTC
Fireflies float in lightless rooms,
Spelling out words with fluid constellations
And my heart still tender from afternoon
Drugged up and fussed with the want of rain
Interprets these flecks of dancing
as love letters to pain
I think of dreaming and I think of you
Somewhere basking in summer rain
While I fall for foolish stories
written on the windows of a midnight train
These conversations that go nowhere
heavily soaked in honey stick to my tongue
These whisperings float in pools of ink
Like the daunting midnight sea,
But i'm too far gone into this dream state
Yet ready to drown, before I can hesitate,
In this ocean that you call home
May 27, 2022
May 27, 2022 at 5:53 PM UTC
On the beach
in the sun
Anne sits
in her chair
her one leg
hanging down
her leg stump
out of sight
she's beside
Skinny kid
who reclines
in a small
blue deckchair
other kids
sit around
fussed over
by three nuns
from the home
the tides out
so some kids
paddle out
ankle deep
listen kid
I hear one
of the nuns
had you in
to question
in secret
what'd they ask?
Anne asks
it's secret
Benny says
I know that
but tell me
I'm your friend
Anne says
Benny looks
around him
about you
they asked me
about you
Benny says
Anne frowns
about me?
Benny nods
what'd they ask?
what you did
what you said
and did you
make me do
anything
Benny says
what'd you say?
I said you
were my friend
my best friend
Benny says
what'd they say?
Sister Blaise
the fat nun
said it was
a big sin
to tell lies
what'd you say?
Anne asks
I told her
I guess so
was that all?
can I go?
Benny says
Anne smiles
good work Kid
keep the ****
penguins stumped
and things hid.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
Orange squeezed, tea brewed, bacon fried
Self showered, beard shaved, robe wrapped
Wife kissed, tea brought, eyes rubbed
Juice sipped, toast munched, day discussed
Sugar stirred, tea drunk, watch checked
Kids rattled, cornflakes spooned, plates emptied
Mum fussed, kids grumped, teeth cleaned
Noses wiped, shoes on-ed, lunch packed
Stragglers awayed, byes waved, friends greeted
Office called, PC packed, car started
Wife snuggled, door closed, journey begun.
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 11:20 AM UTC
Once I was wronged before my friends,
They all cried out in protest.
'How dare they treat you poorly,'
They all screamed and fussed.
I merely shrugged my shoulders and
With a soft sigh did say 'Doesn't matter,
We will all die some day,'
Now weeks did pass and it's been forgotten,
And my friend was wronged by a similar few.
I then began to cry out in wicked frustration,
And she then too sighed and shrugged her shoulders.
'Whats done is done, the past is past,' my friend
Did admit to me. I shook my head and grabbed a bat
and said 'You mess with me, you get off easy,
Mess with my friends...
You're fucked'
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 5:38 PM UTC
He used to deliver
Groceries to Mrs
Ushmore as a kid and
She’d say, bring it into
The kitchen, Henry, and
Put it down on the side,
Why, you must be thirsty
After carrying that
Heavy load to my door,
And he’d go in with the
Groceries and lay them
Down where she had shown him
And looked around the place
Trying hard to avoid
Looking at young Mrs
Ushmore who was dressed in
The skimpiest of things
And pretended to be
Looking around at the
Shelves and gas cooker and
Out the large window.
What are you having, she
Asked, Coke? Yeah, that’ll be
Fine, he replied, looking
Over her shoulder at
The wallpaper of bright
Yellow flowers. Have you
Seen my ***** She asked.
Miss Glissy, I call her.
Henry shook his head and
Looked briefly at her. No,
He replied, getting a
Quick glimpse of her big *******
Fighting to escape from
The black bra. Here, she said,
Have a Coke and don’t go
Rushing it now, don’t want
You to get the hiccups
And have your mother come
Over here telling me
Off. No, I won’t, he said,
Sipping the Coke, tasting
Each mouthful, letting it
Rest on his tongue. I love
My ***** she said, but
My husband, Clive, he has
Little to do with her,
Says she’s nothing to be
Too fussed about. Henry
Swallowed the small mouthful.
His eyes settled like small
Butterflies on her thighs,
Focussing where her black
Suspenders met the brown
Stockings and the skin stretched
Out there like nothing he’d
Seen before, not even
Amy Shortdove, showed him
That much for her two dimes.
Would you like to stroke Miss
Glissy? She asked, giving
Henry a wide-eyed stare.
No, I better be off,
Henry said gulping down
The last remaining Coke.
Mr Ashton don’t like
Me hanging around and
I’ve loads more to do and
Maybe another time,
Mrs Ushmore, I can
Stroke your ***** Sure, she
Said smiling, I’m sure she’d
Like that. Henry rode his
Bike away not looking
Back, not letting her see
He was interested,
Not letting her think he’d
Ever stroke Miss Glissy
In a thousand years let
Alone days or weeks,
And he never did see
Or stroke Mrs Ushmore’s
***** but he often
Dreamed he did and enjoyed
The dream, with him and Miss
Glissy purring and both
Of them licking the cream.
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 4:30 AM UTC
some words are winners
some are not
it's a matter of choosing
what words to slot
but with so many words
there to opt for
the mind has a conundrum
at its door
an example I'll now write
with those words that win
and writers aren't fussed
on placing them in the bin
these words win
more often than not
as they 're always included
by the author's mot
LOVE
HOPE
and
INSPIRATION
have winner written on them
so pen-men and women
tend to employ
one or all of them
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 5:56 PM UTC
She swallowed love like it was poison, fully aware of what she was doing but then spit it out the moment it reached her throat. She felt its presence like a hardened clump on the back of her mouth, fighting it back with her tongue wrapped with barbed wires but she felt herself bleed long before she could even scratch its surface. Tears started spilling out her eyes as she looked at your brown ones and no matter how hard she tried to explain, she can't put into words how such a muddy color can be so bright -- it could outshine the stars.
The moment her hand enveloped yours she didn't understand how this ******* electric current could be interpreted as romantic. She never liked cliches but she forgot that when you took your clothes off and she ran her hands through your hair and finally thought that maybe, maybe this was something real. She didn't know life outside this box -- she didn't know there was a box until she felt herself becoming so small, shrinking in your presence every single time. It used to be about both of you but now its only about you and she was never one to complain about exploring every inch of your skin with her mouth but this time it was different. The fire in your eyes looked too warm to be comfortable in anymore and the spark you both used to have turned into an inferno that began to burn its way into her veins and that your words cut deeper through her than sharpened knives and your promises were nothing but sugarcoated threats and curses and she knew it would **** her and that this thing everyone fussed about was nothing but poison but ******* it, she'd swallow it if it tasted like you.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
Have to song along
Nothing I can do about it
About all words known
Motown ... bring it on
Years of chillin' in your space
No matter my age
I always keep pace
Drifting off ... to my soul filled place
All Great things
Visionaries started
Up to that point
No-one ... fussed over it
So masses they fought
Went out on a limb
Did their own thing
And we feel in love ... we did
Mentors of Inspiration
Gave birth to a legend
They set the standard
So we could ... humbly follow it
Thick skinned individuals
Seek the same goal
Of making music
To stir your soul ..
And the beat goes on ...
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
The Haunting of the Ol' Fisherton Bay Morticianary, Pt.2
And so it goes...
The good mandelver, was given two,
caskets to measure his feelings to...
the undertaker sat, while the artist was gone...
pulled a flask of whiskey out.. and,
sang himself a song.
When he stood up,
to look 'pon the corpses
he found his flask missing...
he fussed and cursed, what's worse is;
that there stood a man, in such deathly groom,
he stood in the corner-centre, of the prepping the room...
There stood a man who'd sung along,
whose eyes indeed were really on...
"Off with the willows and off with the bloom,"
he said..
off with the cherry too, and off with the tune...
Come ol' Merry merry mate, come and sing along,
for when you bring the caskets make,
sure to sing a song.
One for the lock-it ring,
one for the key.
Another song to whistle to,
and a song to rid of me...
What's wrong you old drunken ****
All pale and wet! O' gee...
the cat's gotten your tongue, I hope!
You dare not mess with me!"
A.r. Bazian
Feb 19th, 2016
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
Burning arms mean no harm,
They’re gentle, soft, delicate,
Oh so wonderful.
She sat next to me on a friend’s sofa,
All I was doing was being a lofa,
Even still she was getting closer,
**** me I love her,
The ex is basically my brother,
I want to be her lover.
Risk of sounding corny,
I’ll change the story into something more boring.
I’m not fussed, don’t give a ****
Sod your silly rhymes,
Moving onto better times,
Like ******* on limes.
How can I enjoy writing lines?
You’re supposed to snort them,
To be like real men,
Not you, you ******* hen.
There we go again, back with his pen.
Stab it in deep, right in your feet,
In the middle of the street.
You can’t decide nor go anywhere,
You’re stuck there.
All the pain you gonna bear,
All ‘cos you care!
It’s completely pointless,
No-one to say ‘ah-bless’,
You’re a ******* cunting mess.
What you gonna do?
Sit there and stew, squirm like a *****
Say **** you! Say **** you!
That’s what to do,
It’s all down to you.
So get on with your boo-hoo’s,
Stand up and fight,
Don’t ever lose the sight,
You might just, you might!
Mar 19, 2010
Mar 19, 2010 at 3:59 PM UTC
hey there, hey now, just hold on..
the road ain't bumpy if your dancing to the rhythm...
tell me, tell me, tell me how..
you still learned to smile, with the conditions that you live in..
granted, granted pain is foul...
you still made gold with the lemons you were given..
truly God himself is wow-ed...
in fact, I'm surprised you don't even have a ribbon..
Sunset Ave, has lots of sights,
perhaps you chose this corner for a reason..
its getting kind of cold, this night..
just our luck, there goes Cali with the seasons..
..
the cardboard box, a sweater and jeans.
a flashlight, a belt, a bible and dreams.
police said it was wrong..
couple nights out there, made us strong..
Momma said just tonight, tomorrow we'll be gone..
and if you fussed, she sang..
"hey there, hey now, just hold on.."
cold, isn't cold to me no more,
cold isn't cold..
one day we'll settle down, a porch and all..
but for now were on the road....
-afj
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC