"grinders" poems
I can’t wait to be a hundred;
turning over the thoughts
and plots, of Caledon
floating on Zimmer inserts
and dusted Florsheims
three steps forward
in a dream woven
summer afternoon
Through the barn doors
and bee keeper flats
assimilating voices
from Sachems
and Forbes
and Hope Healers
coming and going
as the countryman
comes and goes
You can feel it
in a place like this
the 3 in the tree memories
of Allis Chalmers
and combine parts
of Sundrim poppers
and shallow carp fields
of patterned lawsons
and fading caulk
(on the ripped and rolled
frontier seats)
it’s a wishing well
for the peddler
and bold hydrangea...
both peeking their way
through the rusted
grinders wheel
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 11:55 PM UTC
Amsterdam,
Oh Amsterdam.
The lingering bells of a multitude of bicycles.
Clinging to the misty air.
Carefree.
Careless.
Canal flows past.
Upon which dances sunlight.
A bundle of sparkles.
It's early morning in-situation.
The ladies of night, are still sat propped up sleepily.
Looking like they're wide awake.
The coffee shops seem to never quit,they never seem to sleep.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Delft grinders shaped as windmills turn and grind.
Oh to awaken in fair Amsterdam.
(C) LIVVI
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
So excuse me while I dump out my Starbucks in the fridge
and paper shred my valued customer card.
Let me hate coffee for you,
Because you're the only person I've been willing to hate coffee for in three years.
Those other boys could never tear me from the coffee shop counter,
I would latch on like a koala to a tree limb,
Thirsting for that satisfying and hypnotizing liquid.
Let me loath coffee for you,
Because I haven't been so excited about loathing coffee in three years.
Its tantalizing aromatics will woo me no more.
The other men in my life have no affect on my love affair with these beans,
Their scents loop around my neck and drag me in,
The craving becomes irrefutable,
My bones creak with each body convulgence
In response to the grinders on the espresso machines.
Please let me get you a drink,
Orange juice? Milk?
Gatorade?
I swear, I'll keep coffee as far away as possible at all times,
Avoiding every Dunkin' Donuts while driving,
Every quaint mom-and-pop coffee shop while walking,
And flight attendants will never dare bring a coffee ***
on their food cart when we fly.
I won't ***** this up with the **** coffee,
Because perhaps it was coffee the last three times that left things in rancid rot,
The filters from yesterday's shift never disposed of.
Let's go anywhere but a coffee shop together,
Let's go everywhere but a coffee shop forever.
And I promise,
I won't even try and sneak a latte around you,
But can I please keep my chai tea?
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
Getting lost
in the Coffeeshop Quartet.
Birring grinders and steamy explosions
chattering friends- coffee tinged emotions.
Everyone's exploring with their faces upbeat,
a little bubble of warmth against the cold harsh street.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 5:41 AM UTC
What I fancy I approve,
No dislike there is in love:
Be my mistress short or tall,
And distorted therewithal:
Be she likewise one of those,
That an acre hath of nose:
Be her forehead and her eyes
Full of incongruities:
Be her cheeks so shallow too,
As to show her tongue wag through;
Be her lips ill hung or set,
And her grinders black as jet:
Hath she thin hair, hath she none,
She’s to me a paragon.
2.6k
"This is a song..."
"This is uhh, This is a new song..."
"It's through the eyes of one of the greatest people alive, I feel..."
"The Lunchlady"
[Laughing]
Woke up in the morning
Put on my new plastic glove
Served some reheated salisbury steak
With a little slice of love
Got no clue what the chicken *** pie is made of
Just know everything's doing fine
Down here in Lunchlady Land
Well I wear this net on my head
'Cause my red hair is fallin' out
I wear these brown orthopedic shoes
'Cause I got a bad case of the gout
I know you want seconds on the corndogs
But there's no reason to shout
Everybody gets enough food
Down here in Lunchlady Land
Well yesterday's meatloaf is today's sloppy joes
And my breath reeks of tuna
And there's lots of black hairs coming out of my nose
In Lunchlady Land your dreams come true
Clouds made of carrots and peas
Mountains built of shepherds pie
And rivers made of macaroni and cheese
But don't forget to return your trays
And try to ignore my gum disease
No student can escape the magic of Lunchlady Land
Hoagies & grinders, hoagies & grinders
Hoagies & grinders, hoagies & grinders
Navy beans, navy beans, navy beans
Hoagies & grinders, hoagies & grinders
Navy beans, navy beans
Meatloaf sandwich
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
Well I dreamt one morning
That I woke up to see
All the pepperoni pizza
Was a-looking at me
It screamed, why do you burn me
And serve me up cold
I said I got the spatula
Just do what you're told
Then the liver & onions
Started joining the fight
And the chocolate pudding
Pushed me with all its might
And the chop suey slapped me
And it kicked me in the head
It's called revenge Lunchlady
Said the garlic bread
I said what did I do
To make you all so mad
They said you got flabby arms
And your breath is bad
Then the green beans said
You better run and hide
But then my friend sloppy joe came
And joined my side
He said if it wasn't for the Lunchlady
The kids wouldn't eatcha
You should be shakin' her hand
And sayin' please to meet ya
She gives you a purpose
And she gives you a goal
You should be kissin' her feet
And kissin' her mole
Now all the angry foods
Just leave me alone
And we all live together
In a happy home
Thanks to
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
sloppy joe, slop, sloppy joe
[Spoken]
Well me & sloppy joe got married
We got six kids and we're doing' just fine
Down in Lunchlady Land
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
Just keep livin in this feelin
Never am I beleivin
That **** thats written
Questin for questionin
Im losin
No reasonin
No serotonin
Jane, dope burnin got me floatin
Lucy dances turnin got me smilin
Druggy desperate runnin got me huffin
Huff and puff an puff, pass
One piggy in a house oh straw smokin grass
Nother piggys house of glass
Last piggys house of cards but, alas
Little piggys grow big and pass
One pig in the straw smoked over ash
Nother pig served with a glass
Last pig out of cards, alas
Last pig out of the farm
Free hog free from the harm
Hunted down with a firearm
Pow Pow hogs need not roam
No escapin the farm
Just dyin in a drugged calm
Or dyin strugglin in dirt, ****
So just chill and spread *****
New meat for the grinders
Fresh meat for the diners
Pigs aint **** but some dinners
For pigs with gold incisors
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC
Left to remain
Anything to quell fear
Seized opportunity
Sold soul to fear
Parallel vision
Past and present collide
Time recalled of time without fear
Haunting specter
Wild cry
Wild sound of devotion
Old quest uncovered from the dust
Old wilderness restoring to old glory
Firing from old expended
Reservoirs transferring water
Into coffee grinders, to dust
Chained in a crab *** at the bottom of the sea
Pelted with repeated blasts of particles of light
Until the matter is compressed into a singularity
Or breaches on the matter anyway besides
Unleashing rather than a sinkhole trap,
A flash flood over everything
Coating vision with a venereal sheen
Inundated in a fluid silk connective fabric bond
Until the matter reaches
Into pockets of relief
And miracles of situational
Restorative advance
Particulate regenerative
Relationship encounters
Debris from space accumulating
Hoping in some arcane sense
To be reformed together into beasts anew
While similarly fossils of
An ancient swarm of locusts
Are unearthed
They’re met with magnets
Positioned counter to the flow of electricity
This array is aligned to the magnetosphere
Of that old planet
Where I have lived before and left kinsmen behind to grow a colony of their own
But my own magnetism is calibrated today
To the wildly different magnetosphere of my latest home
To put it mildly, out of wild instinct, exiled from an old society
Of innocence/intelligence
A pretense over bell curve
Environment restrictive of
Fraternization ***********
On a day too perfect for itself
The stage-play left upon my table
All the actors meandering about
Chance encounters replaying dramas.
Jan 22, 2011
Jan 22, 2011 at 8:00 PM UTC
the hall walker slides along the wall
one hand brushing the cheap paint
his thin vacant face
etched in a shallow gasping for breath caricature
the hall walkers drifting steps
are across the carpets patterns
but no one objects
his neat and clean golf pro outfit
still clings to its filthy rich beginnings
suede leather faces
and the disdain they project
the hall walker has paused
to announce his desire to be on his way
to the blank wall
a poster nearby grins down at his madness
with a fateful message about condoms
lest the madness spread no doubt
he raises his voice
but to no avail
the wall remains ignorant
but we are far from alone
me and the hall walker
a stream of faces
the tight lipped impaired people
come in waves through the hall
like a strange tidal basin of the medical world
the floaters and driftwood
the gathers of shells
and thouse who seek to hide inside them still
this odd place of the infirm
a dozen bent forms
pushing canes
and mounted on wheelchairs
slowly fold the hallway
with the repeated ebb and flow
of their travels
the low electric sound of their hover-rounds
like meat grinders digesting a daily dose
putter past in steady stream
a nightmare vision of what awaits
the hall walker stops to ponder
the fate of his domain
his hall is no longer his kingdom
and they now shoo him into rooms
or out the door
rather than let him walk the line
between dark and light
that is the way the world decides
the hall walker
pressed his golf shoe
into the soft dirt of wet night
and smiled clean and real
recalling the scent
and releasing his grip
he follows the young nurse to bigger and better halls
to walk the wall
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
Why must the hard work of others go unnoticed?
Why must the grinders be punished?
Why must I never know my true potential
And never discover myself?
Why are we all only driven by money
And follow the empty path before us.
The only way we can find our real calling
Is to close our eyes and jump into the void.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
A White Man’s Prayer
Lord send me a champion
inarticulate as a mouthful
of scalding gumbo, smart
as two left shoes, windier
than a kettle of my Uncle Larry’s
chili, one who talks
tough around the silver
spoon in his mouth
sane as an *****
grinders monkey, a real
Yankee Doodle Dandy
plenty handy with the girls
honest as the day is long
in Lapland in December
an hombre who knows
how it feels to be top rail
at breakfast, bottom rail
by bedtime, big hearted
to his legions of lessors
his betters nothing more
than vicious rumor, Lord
knows my first choice
Yosemite Sam
is also a cartoon.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
Relaxing days,
lost in clouds of haze,
from a friendly face,
Reunited mates,
in a different time
and a different place.
A change in scenery,
lost in the greenery,
sometimes it’s too easy,
to forget about how much,
some people mean to me.
Timely reminders,
plans twist through hands
and in grinders,
the distance divides us,
Yet were never not far,
from our friends.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
...
..
.
breath on mine
breath on mine
she breath
she breathes
on
me
sweat ****
these measures
taken
from
me
mine on
mine off
daily grinders
i
am
grindersedges
i
am
stone
glaciers are cold
i
am
branded
stars
correcting
stranded
stars
am
i
galactic
yes
am
i
walk
with
an
watch
clock
on
the
wall
caught up with tock
over the tock
listen
time
drops
lisping
dreaming
all
thhhh way
arrested dawn
time breathes
breath on mine
?
...
..
.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 6:47 AM UTC
grillers greatly ***** ground-beef-grinders
and regret grinning when getting gristle
Jul 4, 2021
Jul 4, 2021 at 12:12 PM UTC
eyes crossing whys
cries tossing
skies
the
weak
shall
inherit what
life don't drink
from
paper
cups
swallow what you breathe
eyes that lie beneath themselves
sees
sees sees sees
teach me from beyond
the
reads
whose mind was told
to gently unfold
every crease
every
crevice
of blood
that you
perish
why
lie
an
dine
in
the
flame
brandedstars are calling your name
the
only
strandedstars
are
in
shame
those stone glaciers
repent
to
my
name
your
grinders
edges
have
pulled you
from the flame
branded glaciers
are those teardrops
those that keep
me
from
going
in
sane
as my eyes crossing whys
?
...
..
.
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
A Crow landed in a field of snow ,
Only for a moment ,
Lay a golden ball behind it .
It's. Sun lit Ray's cast its light on this field of snow ,
With only an trees of Oak to hide it .
Jingle Bells a **** Santa sells in shops all set for Christmas ,
With halo lights and tinsel ,
With too much beer ,
hell. draws near ,
and the tinsel town with its bright pritty lights ,
Sees. Sirens and sick men spewing in a gutter.
A winters blast of times long past ,
In Ashfords streets. Rattling cans ,
and Street grinders. , Santa Claws and slay.
pray happy tunes for weary souls
on a cold winters day .
Yet in 1898 the Americans mined for Gold ,
The Chilkoot. trail ,
Or the White pass ,
Ones hell ,
the others destruction .,
Which ever which way you'll wish you took the other .
Men's dreams of paradise would perish in the snow
Now a Cross of Roman wood outside a City gate for the Son of man did wait ,
Where blood trickled down from a thorny Crown ,
Unto Goblets made for thankful souls ,
for mans sin would be dealt with in just one day ,
To appease Gods holy wrath .
At dockers gate a man did wait and was crushed for want of bread ,
For God so loved ,
his only Son ,
to die on Roman wood .
For what hell could not hold ,
Paradise would enfold ,
Fountains of grace for many .,
Who turn from their sin ,
and trust in him.
For the Sun will rise on golden fields of green ,
and harvest souls where Crows once fed on soil fit for a King .
.
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 8:36 AM UTC
have been ground
one grinder
two grinders
one edge
two edges
grinders edges
done did the math
did understood
what
done done
get
it
grinders edges
?
...
..
.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 8:02 AM UTC
once written
is enough
give me
details
said
she
am
i
poetry
she questions me
bell rung
am
i
in
an
consolation
prize
of
rock
here
am
i
your stone
stone glaciers
your branded
stars
here
am
i
your
every scar
i
am
your
stranded
stars
keeping you
from being
who you
are
grinders edges
cut your throat
star
do
i
dripping off notes
one me man
one me man
one me man
one more
time
her
lip
gloss
not mine
kiss me kiss me
kiss me we wrote
letters
in
the
bottle
i love you
from an shark
to
an
stroke
repairing me's
beyond
broke
song oh song
song oh song
song oh song sung to me
naked we dance
in
our
dreams
enigmatic
such mystery
fingertips spun
on golden locks
reminds time
true love
in
an
cyber
bottled box
?
...
..
.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 7:34 AM UTC