"grabby" poems
Raised in California grew up in the hood
It’s where I first discovered my morning wood
***** I did detect became my *** ***
Creating what looked like a perfect tee ***
Didn't understand I was very young
I would play Cowboys and Indians with it just for fun
Till one day I saw my first pair of ****
Looked at my pants I was hard and stiff
Pop’s ******* magazines laid around for fun?
I’m a ****** Scorpio I figured out how to ***
The girls noticed me knew I was wild
Would grabby feel me up I was no longer a child
My **** is like a clock keeping time like it should
My sunrise with a surprise My Morning Wood!
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 4:52 PM UTC
Psychopath, questioned and played with, complex mind games with
Paper fortune tellers and crystal ***** utilized by con artists.
Chrome decorated room filled with trippy, grippy, grabby men
With blue cats swimming around their head. Coherent words do not exist to them.
Sucrose breaks you down, sweet creature, and thieves the antimatter in your empty scull.
Your favorite song no longer passes through your hollow ears.
Notes and the beats... A heartbeat. The thrum of a low piano key in a house supposed
To be isolated and abandoned. You are not alone here, child.
The demons summoned her because of the lettered board between a mattress
And box spring. The springs are broken from too much activity,
Don't jump on the soiled mattress. That's how you receive punishment.
But one without two does not match the storybook your mother read to you.
The nauseating tale of role,play and ********** Everyone knows the story, seen the Disney.
You can run, but you can't hide from the memories of horrible visions
Given to you by the gods. Hold on, child. You will grow to be a man one day
Despite the nightmare of being a wolf child who clawed his way out of his mothers womb.
Jolt and sweat, forgotten top bunk , and a concussion;
The dreams are back. The recurring realities of a twin long lost, but somehow inside.
Dream catchers don't make the callback list, can't act for the life of them, but
They are beautiful against the scenery.
A porcelain doll holds the demon that hacked my system and took controll of my history,
And once again, she takes my place, fooling everyone into thinking I am here
When, in reality, I am buried six feet under.
Blood dribbles from the letters chilled into my stone, I curl and let them add more letters into
My back to symbolize the life I led. The collection of poems I wrote about you are the ones they
Cut into the skin on my legs, permanent reminders of what I have felt.
"What have you felt?"
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
The cameras were set the madman of Hello after snorting so sinus powder
was hopped up like a fat kid in a cake factory.
So Gonzo any thoughts on the new HP?
Gonzo. Well always new they'd find a way to steal my thoughts and secertly mentally **** me and kidnap Mr pickles!
Ummm
Gonzo Yeah I know thats why im only taking pills from trusted drug dealers like
Mother Terresa, And Capt Grabby Hands
Are you okay?
Gonzo. hmmm what's it all mean dear lady?
sure you capture me drag me to your dungeon have your way with me
take some pics update your facebook status like anyone gives A **** what you eat for dinner or your a lonley cat lady.
but honestly who doest like pussy?'
*** your insane and put that away!
Gonzo. What i was just getting my trusty pocket fisherman
and my invisble anti earth crab spray.
I dont even wanna know.
Gonzo. hey ive learned always bring protection no matter how they look the flying monkeys are everywhere!
Ummm do you need help?
Gonzo. Ever **** next a man who has no sense of smell yeah kinda takes all the fun out of it kinda like some new changes.
do like magic miss?
Ummm well .
Gonzo. check your cooler.
Theres nothing in it.
Gonzo.
MAGIC
Now call your sister i bet she's gonna have a baby.
Wow how did you know that? Magic?
Gonzo. no we've been having fun after that annoying husban of her's
finally goes to work.
Hey he's coming over and he ses he's gonna.
Hey where'd you go?
The interviewers cell rings.
Hello?
Gonzo. Magic!
Mar 2, 2011
Mar 2, 2011 at 6:45 PM UTC
What im afraid of is failing miserably with my dreams in sight
Going down without a fight
Grabby hands clatching onto my feet
Talking to the lavender girl from across the street
Myself, in a manic sense
My little sisters disappearing innocence
Loving somebody who only thinks of letting go of me
A harmless bee sitting on my sleeve
The things that scare me will soon come to an end
Anyway, most of it was always just pretend
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
there's a door
I ignore it at night.
I can see the shadows
slipping underneath it
to some unknown place where
grabby things are living
and biding their time
til opportune, they can
****** me.
when all the lights are off
I am in the quick scuttle
to my bedroom, cellphone aloft
for the tiny blue glow
that will protect me
from monsters
unless they are in
the air, materializing in my
lungs to scare me from
the inside out.
and even when I
have ducked fully under
the covers of my bed
I lie, flat, rigid. No
breath, in case dark things
folded and slithering underneath
my clothes, in the
drawers, or twined
around the hangers
can see the movement
and take the opportunity
of me captive in my
bed,
to pounce.
Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 9:36 AM UTC
Rolling in late, Mr. Movie sits on his roll-y chair and is
entranced by the glittering star and butterfly beads
inside the walls of his magical kingdom.
He's having a think.
He's taking a journey, tuning his frequency to the
Centre of the Earth
beep boop boop boop beep
and then stares at me waaaaaaaaaaay far out.
Okay, look, listen to me....
*The ground, did it broked and the dinosaur fell into the
shadow like Balrog?*
I look at him.
(We discussed the death of Maleficent a while ago)
But Trevor didn't fall into the shadow just like Gandalf.
Uh uh. No, he didn't.
He shakes his head.
That is a good thing, I say.
Yes, okay, now look, listen to me...
He lowers his voice to a whisper.
(They want him to stop talking incessantly about these movies)
But the lava's going to blow and let Trevor out, yes.
He nods at me, waiting for my approval.
I agree.
Okay, and now...
He returns to inside the magical kingdom.
Chattering away, he travels to the Serengeti.
beep boop boop boop beep
He turns to me, worried.
An elephant graveyard is no place for a young prince. Oops!
Oh no! An elephant graveyard is no place for a young prince! Oops!
Oops is right.
Grabby is less impressed.
He's all giggles today but not impressed with me.
Slaps me in the face and pours tea all over my stuff.
Oops is right.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
when i was small and delicate
my parents were so worried
they grew up quite the pessimissts
and panicked in a hurry
so when I swallowed a firefly
their grabby hands and tight faces
thought called out 'will she die?'
they opened up my mouth and poked around in the dark places
they had such an uptight lifestyle
however, i was the opposite
the firefly i swallowed was shining through my smile.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
even when i am winged
i am benign,
i am beginning.
walking with my feet tied
so loosely to the concrete
by puppet strings;
made of words & cream
& other fragile things not
to be touched,
only to dream.
a marionette trembling
with grabby fingers pulling & drooling
oil onto my chest -
heavy, but it will leave me
slick not sticky,
ready for the finale.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
When I was but a child
To litter seemed a scandelous crime
As we were taking a walk one day
I vowed
That I’d bring
My plastic grabby tool out
And clean it all up
...
We got home
Milk and cookies
Was all it to took
For me to forget
...
A couple of years later
I saw a piece of plastic in our yard
I picked it up
Brought it home
And disposed of it
Feeling great about myself
...
The year after my brother happened to have a park cleanup
At his school
I had time
So I thought,
Why not?
I came along
Used funky tools
Counted each piece I picked up
Feeling good about myself
Then I went home
To eat some cookies
...
The next time I saw a piece of trash,
I acknowledged there wasn’t anything much I would do about it
...
After that I stopped noticing all together
They instill the knowledge in kids
That littering is bad
But just words
Are words
Until we put in a team effort
Rather than acknowledging others will do it for us
Or that it’s too hopeless
Nothing will ever get done
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC
I imagine that one time you told me about
When you came into my room and watched me sleeping.
You said it made you happy to know that I was there
And in that moment I wouldn't yell at you, or look at you like
You were a stranger to me.
I remember that night
That I dreamed all the dark things in the world were hovering over me
With sharp teeth and hungry eyes
And whose grabby, pushy, possessive hands
Would smother me at any second.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
So selfish, so grabby so needy
Take take take
filling me with I owe yous I'm told are good for so much.
But they're not. You skip town, go bankrupt, need a bailout.
Leave me empty, pockets heart and soul.
God my soul.
You painted it so white it shined.
You poisoned me.
Make it appear so deadly clean, I should've seen right through it.
You taped my broken bones back so crudely
But my heart you held the tightest.
So tight you crushed it in your hands and scattered it to the wind as you ran away.
The heart you gave me was counterfeit.
fake, phony, flimsy.
Made of paper and glue, I could tear it apart and you wouldn't feel a thing.
Not one tear.
So selfish. So afraid for yourself.
All the ******* time.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
I’m so tired of the superficial
Tired of the cliché
So tired of the inconsequential repetition.
I was begging you to love me
I have always given you the best of me
But you thank me by stalling
Like the best of me wasn’t enough.
You can’t say a simple word
Just to gratify my heart in the end?
You say you’re finished with me.
Fine.
Either way I swear,
I salute to you.
Because there is this vast mountain to climb boys…
If you’re my guy…
Understand this…
I want an incomprehensible love.
I want you to not stare into my eyes, but my soul.
I want our hearts to be so loud.
I want my brain to go wild, spinning in circles.
I want you to love to hear my name escape your lips.
I want you to miss my voice inevitably.
I want you to hold my hand to never see me frown.
I want you to not be too shy to be grabby and needy,
Just softly hug your smile to mine when it all goes down.
You want to get away from it all?
Get away from the things I live?
Well if you yield to stop
You can forget to publish your mark.
See if I care.
I won’t okay your proclaims.
I will repudiate,
Discard,
Decline,
Refuse,
Jilt that very first day,
I’m not going to dedicate this poem to you.
All I wanted was to be wanted by you
But I was so Naïve,
Before I swore I’d miss you
But things change.
I thought you had helped me find
Who I was supposed to be
But time slows down and she’s all wrong.
I have taken a deep breath and say it’s not true.
See?
Again you confuse me.
So I appoint you a hail to get the hell out.
So I just tweaked my love list,
And I said no to you.
Keep acting cool
Around everyone else
They don’t know what a ***** you are,
Though I wish they did,
But life isn’t like that,
And I say no, no, no.
And I promise you,
You’ll never see me with someone like you again
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
A long time ago, when we were young
My brother used to be a funny guy.
He could sometimes break me up a bit
Without really ever seeming to try.
So, one day, when he asked a favor;
I could tell because he wasn’t snarling
He batted his eyes like some movie star
And ended saying “Hunchy, lumpy, darling.”
Now all my brothers had Missouri drawls
And, it turns out, they never lost them.
No matter what I or teachers would say
They drawled no matter what it cost them.
They didn’t really have very much regard
Or use for the propriety of the King’s speech.
It’s almost like good grammar and prose
We just a bit too far out of their reach.
So, I wasn’t surprised I failed to understand
This strange request from my young brother.
After all he talked just like relatives, neighbors,
And most of all, sounded “Jess lack his mother”.
But this one time I had to stop and ask him
Would he please repeat what he asked me,
Because for all I was worth, at that moment
His meaning was blithely slipping past me.
His answer, you see, started me right off
On a hunger for rhyming, slang and puns.
My lifelong romance with games and wordplay
Had accidentally, but quite solidly begun.
Because Hunchy, lumpy, darlin’ it seemed
Was saying his way to me, “Honey Child,
Lambie Pie, Darling.” I got it and I screamed.
I laughed and rolled around on the couch
And took it instantly into my grabby brain.
That one little misheard bit of movie-talk fun
Hit me as hilarious and worth saying again.
I’m sure he picked it up from the TV;
Something from a forties comedy movie.
Thinking it was a bit glib, he purloined it
And he was right, I thought it was groovy.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC
A million little curiosities
they pitter-patter along
day by night by foot
So many tragic stories
and strange endings
Can I watch them?
How can I not?
their busy feet slapping
the pavement so steadily
Like a happy toy drum
Look at a million boredoms
ready, grabby ********
Do I want to watch them?
Why would I?
It's a sorry dance to see
watching them scurry
A few of them know it
as they curl into bed
New dreams stab their brain
but where is room for dreams?
No, you silly fools
you're almost late for work
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 12:38 AM UTC
Ask what she wants, Ask what he needs
He'll write you an epistle, She'll sing you a psalm
Present all she needs, Avail all he requires
He buries them in the earth, She hides them in her purse
To her brother, She is the new era
To his sister, He is the long awaited change
First name, Pseudo
Last name, Grabby
Joined in unholy matrimony
They bring forth
EMPTY PROMISES and HYPOCRISY
Regurgitating from their long throats
Indigestible pellets, packaged as permanent solutions
Whilst
Skillfully silencing the many angels
Seated on their right shoulder
Ask him what he has done, Ask her what she is doing
And like ostriches,
Heads buried in the sand, Butts hanging out
They just don't care
©Belema.S.Ekine
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 11:26 AM UTC
Raw is the word of the day. Got it kids?
Kids, what’s raw? Roiling mass of grabby skyward hands.
What’s meat? What’s vegetables?
What’s vulnerability? What’s red and broken and softly, wetish pink?
That thing you feel and touch but mostly feel.
It’s edges and rough. It’s war spelled backwards.
Pummeled hearts and purple kidneys aren’t cooked. They’re raw.
That dusty light that filters, spectral and beyond any grasp.
What’s the sinews of the world?
Raw is blue and pink and red
And coarse and irregular and lovely.
The loveliest sort of striking
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 8:10 PM UTC
You sow haze in the depths of you
You draw a teardrop on my cheek
It smooches tinkling details on it
Thirst steals a kiss from my lips
I water the grabby hubris in you
And while you savor honey out of my wounds
I reap the pieces of my sine qua non
Fellows sail from here as boats
So, I flow to them as a wave
When I reach the shore, I'm an outcast, my friend
As a night light, left in the corner of the ocean
So, I throw my building from the seventh sky
And I fall in a pool, full of comfy stranger arms
Splash! This is my suicide
I’m not a man, not a friendly animal
When everything disappears, my lexicon turn to a sword
Smashing every hideous whisper
Hushing the raging storm of reveries
O sweet perdition, paramour joy
My purgatory, my paradise
Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
Bright lights. Blue, purple, white. Sweaty
people. Standing too close. Eruption. Cheers.
Happiness. I turn to look; lost.
Afraid. Anxiety. Asphyxiation.
Cold beer in the left. Camera in the right.
Grabby hands. Singing. Guitars. Drums
that bang too loud. Hurting ears.
Headache. Nausea. Tequila shot.
Smiles. Greetings. Sitting at the back
of the room, tearing up. Favorite song.
No one to dance with. Too small in
all this space. Too small for this place.
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 5:23 PM UTC
undress and show me what smile lies inside
heart hurt me fly lighter
fly lower to the ground
baby, take me anywhere. i’m ready for whatever.
pretty planned out shhh i’ve got it all taken care of
but i want to keep driving
keep going
take me further
did we already take this road?
heavy heads and grabby hands lead to adventures far from maps charted.
let’s chart our own paths. categorize the nostalgia in new towns.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
i’ve got ghosts curling out of my mouth and they’re dancing with my cigarette smoke
they’re pressing their vacant mouths to the nicotine lips
wispy entrails of fog intertwine with the skeletal hands of my past selves
i feel like i’m intruding on an intimacy not meant for my eyes
like i’m witnessing the kind of love i’ve never known
but it’s desperate and needy and grabby and it gets uglier the longer you look
and what i thought was a love story looks more like horror
what i thought was a tender touch was just the beginnings of a hand closing around a throat
what i thought was a kiss was just the beginnings of a soul being ****** from the inside out
but then suddenly i’m smoking a cigarette filter and it seems the story is over.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
Them shabby,greedy,grasping grabby gits what sits on Whitehall's seats gives me the heebies
what with all them bleeding freebies it beats me what we has them for,it's sods own law but them lot there don't give a flying monkeys,they just don't care for the likes of me and you,
but it's me and you what makes them rich and still the greedy buggers itch for more and more,
a case of Orwell's nineteen eighty four and there's no ragged trousered philanthropists anymore,the score being, them one and us nil and the swines send us the ****** bill and if you haven't got the readies it's off to beddy byes up hangmans hill,
them ******** will
get you in the end,bend you to their way of thinking,put holes in you until you're sinking and throw you a promissory note,does **** float?
I think not
but I think it's what we get and all they've got,
it's a right old liberty with the men at the thin end of the ministry and the fat cats get them rats to batten us down.
Out of town it gets no better,they google and with the letter of the law move in to nick you,it makes me sick,an Englishman's home should be his castle not the knocking shop for them what has to hassle,but
it's in the doings and when the doings become undone, we see it now with the knife and the gun
and that's no fun.neither is the sharp end of the stick they **** and poke us with,
it's donkeys and dogs and the laps of the gods and we sit and drink tea when the clock strikes three
because we're all a little crazy,
a teensy off key,
we have to be
to survive.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
He's mine she's mine
You're mine they're mine
I'm a greedy jealous
Grabby little *****
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 2:09 AM UTC
They don’t know what it’s like,
To be in fear as they walk down the sidewalk,
With their keys in their hands, ready to defend themselves.
They don’t know.
They have no idea what it feels like,
To be watched,
With lustful eyes, going up and down their body,
They have no idea.
How could they know?
That every day they would need to survive,
Through the comments and the grabby hands,
How? Because they aren’t us.
WE know what it’s like,
To fight for our right,
To survive in this judgemental world,
WE know.
They don’t have everyone question them,
About their attitude,
About their virtue,
About their weight,
About their life.
They don’t get those **** cat-calls,
No, they are the ones doing them.
They don’t get their drinks spiked,
No, they are the ones doing it.
They don’t get harassed, every day,
No, they are the ones doing it.
Young, old.
Tall, short.
Small, big.
They don’t care.
We are alone.
We stick together.
We are SURVIVORS.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 1:36 PM UTC
I just want
To be able to have him
And him
And her
And him.
I'm a needy greedy
Grabby jealous *****
So what?
Love me.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC