"griffen" poems
these gifts put me in positions
to write these compositions
as soon as i put it together
they try and rip it apart
weak minded decisions
I don't let go to heart
I play my part,
master my art,
so it works for me my times of dark,
and when I shine bright,
let no one rip us apart.
this talent was god given
so you haters is good riddens
you getting in my, you got to be kidden
I'm breaking record after record like ken griffen,
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 8:06 PM UTC
The world’s your oyster,
Your daddy said, but he
Lied as often as a parrot
Pees, strung you out like
Wet washing. You are the
World’s spit bowl, the some
Thing unmentionable beneath
Their shoe, or so it seems, at
Least to you, lying awake at
Night, watching the shadows
On the ceiling, feeling the
Groping hands of Cunningham,
Knowing what he wants, always
Wants, the groper of the dark,
Sniffing the air, remembering
The lost babe, the wrapped
Shawl, white like snow, the
Dead babe taken away, bad
For business, Mrs Griffen said,
Having a child around, best off
Where, you’ll get over, all things
Come and go. Never forget that.
White against the black dress,
The mass, the priest with his
Pokerface features, the coffin
Lowered. You know the tune
Of grief, understand the wants
Of men, feel the emptiness of
The world’s shell, touch the edges
Of love’s feel, and just when day’s
Light pushes through the shutters,
Cunningham turns over, farts
And mutters. Some oyster, this is,
You think, some relationship, what
A dingy room, what a life, what a stink.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
One two three hundred of Iceland's sailors.
Leaning on the finance from our big servant
Departure had little fan-fare
But what did they care
A summer’s Blinding heat
A ship loaded packed with wheat
As Night’s grasp grew.
Our maps battery did too.
Leaving tonight.
I kissed my wife.
Across the sky ten times.
The sun blazed our horizon’s on the same side.
Food getting lighter, our bellies yearning for dinner
Mutiny, mutiny, mutiny.
I wasn’t going to differ.
Two days later. Our top man, who saved the evenings with good chatter.
Gave our crew the word.
Land ** you ***** rappers.
Looking across the sea, putting our withering hands above our knees.
My eyes glistened, had we come to Griffen.
Our final steps, until our land, was pushing forward and backward.
Onboard the land, our sea legs, outstretched our hands.
Aliens, and sailors, leaving together.
What are they saying
New food to chew.
Gave the crew a push to rearrange our mast
Setting sail back to our past.
The cheers were loud, and we are all proud.
As each one of us was the sailor that lead a mutiny crowd.
Feb 3, 2020
Feb 3, 2020 at 8:28 AM UTC