"heckle" poems
Dancing rainbows heckle the sun.
Jealous that everything orbits the star.
Grateful that the Sól of the universe contributes to their existence but they curse in silence...
Appearing unannounced and bringing smiles on rainy days by ironically displaying multicoloured frowns.
Holding grudges over sunsets.
Plotting against sunrise,
Conspiring with the night.
Unsatisfied with it's mere moments of glory.
Still whispering silent thank you's
Bipolar rainbows.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
Harried, Harassed, Hassled and Hounded-
These are the H-words I work by.
Harpies and Henchmen, Harridans and Heathens-
These are the H-folk I work with.
Hubbub and Hokum and Hurly-burly-
These are the places I do it.
Hoodlums and Hooligans, loaded with Hubris-
These are the clients I deal with.
Heartless and Horrible, Hateful and Hurtful
These are the attitudes around me.
Hopeless and Hapless, Haggard and Helpless-
This is the way I usually feel.
What happened to Happy, and Hopeful and Harmony-
These are the H-words I search for.
Hinder and Hobble, Heckle and Hamper-
These are the Hamstrings that trip me.
Heaven and Harmony, Humor and Honor-
These are the things that I strive for.
Havoc and Hades, Hurt, Hate and Hauteur-
These are the H’s that I have to conquer.
Hope, Help, and Herculean effort-
Is How I will finally get myself Home.
ljm
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 12:30 AM UTC
Consisting of grown, persisting as shown and unknown. Insisting entities, rivalries and sworn enemies! Deformed, forewarned, formed, informed, mourned, performed, reformed and scorned. Dates of great storms! Family tree of hate, horns and thorns. My family tree of gore, horror, more, poor and sore. Perhaps of mishaps galore. Briefly sit
back! I’ll roughly take you back… Heck! Back to a time of attack,
blacks, slacks and whacks. My family tree of practical, tactical, methodical Aztec. Some beckon and reckon in seconds. A family tree of crime, grime and rhyme. A nation of communication, dedication,
dissemination, motivation and procrastination. The splendor of sin
of my corruptive, disruptive kin. They rely more on the color of one’s
skin. My family tree of abuse and misuse that misuses and seduces! Family tree of warfare and welfare legalities, moralities and family-prodigies. Picture this scriptural twist! Some assist on a kiss. I insist
some are idealities in social technicalities. Alcoholics, diabetics,
****** exotic, fantastic, Catholics, eccentric, horrific and poetic. I persist… some gnomes, some roam, some in poems, some with no homes. My family tree of adventuresome, awesome, handsome and troublesome. My family tree of beautiful and bountiful! Some are a
handful some handicap some locally and vocally-rap. Some slap,
gift-wrap and yap! Some are snuggly, pretty, witty or ugly. In my family tree, some crippled, some with pimples, some with freckles
and some that heckle. Some belittle and little, some wrinkled and old. Some are bold and pray to the lord! Some are Frio, meaning cold we
were told. Some I say, are poor with no Amor. Some are here no more, in my family tree of Amor.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:37 PM UTC
There's this guy who constantly gives me grief online
as if I need a reminder that I am not funny or smart
that I am incapable of posting any story without his remark
as if he should impart and bestow all of social media
with his divine and seraphic academia:
what is with that?
He posts comments about how illiterate my poetry is
how it doesn't follow the rules; the do-nots and the do's
pontificates how its not properly punctuated
as if I should give up altogether and just shine shoes
and forget trying to construct sentences
just wander in the carousel of nebula's
eternally seeking the tentacle of enemas:
what is with that?
This guy enjoys winding me up like a persistent hobby
the reverent devilment of sadistic entitlement
pushing my head under water for a digital baptism
that I should thank him for his rhetoric enlightenment
as if he was blessed with a correspondence talisman:
what is with that?
This isn't even a poem.
I am letting off steam like an overused kettle
fed up of his mortar forever rammed in my pestle
the temples are raging and my brain is just draining
to explode on cue on the next digital heckle
the cracked and broken vessel
into a vengeful steam-driven projectile:
what is with that?
This, < here > , is my only escape
and creative cathartic vent
I'll post this lament
with the stench of discontent
and tag his name and then just wait
for his feverish malcontent
that I should dare to
prevent his God-like dissent:
memo to self
to a digital antagonist
and his verbose verbal cyst
and the keyboard of twists
when you push
sometimes you get
a big shove back
so don't be surprised
by my riposte
and this poetic attack.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
Sitting at the beach
At night
Where the fire keeps you company
When all the sailors have gone to bed
Where the sea sings its song
And it makes you forget
About the pain and the horror
The others went through
The reason they’ve gone to bed
And now only there’s you
Staring blankly at your hourglass
Knowing life well enough to say
That it doesn’t spare any
It’s going to take you in its sway
Sitting at the beach
At night
Where the sand tickles your feet
Teasing you like an old lover
Where the wind cools you down
While the heat makes you hover
You force this happy smile at first
Because tickling should be funny
but then again there are tears
Why did you leave me, honey
These yellow stains they went away
And so did your little freckle
But I have to stop wondering
And I really shouldn't heckle
Sitting at the beach
At night
Where the stars keep on staring
No matter where your beach might be
They don’t make you do but realise
How important are we?
My lover has gone and I will have pain
But these bright spots are infinite
And I am just this little stain
So what is there to do for me
In this endless tree of time
As this small and lonely chloroplast
I’ll keep on trying to be fine
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
On the door the sign it says "Open mike" come in and listen if you like
Get a drink and take a seat come listen to others things
Songs galore, old and new. If you want get up too.
But no you *** you want to heckle and berate someone, oh your special.
So special you came straight from the gym didn't shower and you stink
Your head is topped with a mersey **** oh I'm sorry its your hair
****** this and I'll do that, hot air from a skanks mouth
Well this morning I feel really good because last night I met you
My life may never be the same in fact next week I'll come again
If you open your foul scouse mouth, I'll get up and read this out!
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
Smile,
I am your simile
Cry,
I am your crayon
Shout at me,
I enjoy your hoot
Play fool with me,
I am cool
Wet me,
I am not upset
Hit me,
I am not hurt
Kick me,
I kiss you
Bite me,
I like your taste
Trample me,
I am fine
Pull my hair,
I rejoice
I am your clown
Heckle me,
I am your pickle
Punch me,
I am your gym zone
My dear light weight champion
You are my delight n’ sunlight
Who else can do so my honey,
If not my Good Grand God Baby!
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
Smile,
I am your simile
Cry,
I carry on
Shout at me,
I enjoy your hoot
Play fool with me,
I am cool
Wet me,
I am not upset
Hit me,
I am not hurt
Kick me,
I kiss you
Bite me,
I like your taste
Trample me,
I am fine
Pull my hair,
I rejoice
I am your clown
Heckle me,
I am your pickle
Punch me,
I am your gym zone
My dear light weight champion
You are my delight n’ sunlight
Who else can do so my honey,
If not my Good Grand Blessed Baby!
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
Master, this was said to me
should I be triggered or flogged?
Think Sisyphus happy.
What year is this?
Babble, babble, all around me, no
God, not this, again.
It's all in yer head, keep rollin' the rock.
keepin time, makin rime rimey rime
frees icicles on my beard
if you could see me now,
Hell, who imagined this?
I am Sisyphus happy and Sysifus sad,
now for as long as I care to recall
I roll the rock.
It was the hell I had envisioned, since
Camus at least, probably something triggered,
seventh grade, oh
cliché, except
the details, the evil, as seen in the thirteenth
year of an unwombed man's journey, womb to tomb.
I rolled the rock.
Alone as all hell, bored as hell.
food and drink, folly to think
so I stop thinking about them
as if someone thinks I can and I think I can.
Let's doit
daydream cliché, same seventh grader asks
Diane Wescott if he can kiss her
under the water
at the deep end of the public pool
Like Tarzan and Jane and she said yes,
again and again and again
like the expert's rats that are allowed
to suicide on big pharma grade *******
Wahoo, that got the rock rollin'
like I never thought she would now
yah, Jah, know what I mean,
Billie Jean, the kid coulda been mine
But I was rockin' and rollin' all night long,
notime, noo time ah tahlllll
Some minds may imagine Sisyphus happy,
but up to not too long
ago
I fail, failed am failing to re
call member hotline
now,
Matrix Wachowskie, bact to your box,
I am haunted by that movie, in 2018
keyphrase 2018 trigger Matrix movie 1
not the movie, the idea of endless bullets.
Who imagined that,
Hell, this is easy. Right, two persona one person sort of
story, no, too, Jekyl n Heckle
I can think any thing as long
as I roll the rock. This will go on forever,
as far as I can tell.
Rock and roll will live forever, let's take that
as a given, and just ignor the steady
up and down, resistance to punching down force goes up and release,
the rock rolls as far as Luck would have it, statically, probably
pause. breathe, read
The rhythm varies, I'm in forever, not in hell.
Push.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 7:16 PM UTC
Sown as corn at little cost
And doomed to bloom amid the frost
Struggling through frozen earth
Weak and withered after birth
Swaddled up in soothing lies
With jingles as our lullabies
Numbered at our fledgling breath
Weighed, tagged and worked to death
Grown into a paper mould
With ball and chain of solid gold
Impotent to break or twist
The wireless shackle about the wrist
Conform, obey, do not resist
A silken blindfold binding eyes
To hide corruption on the rise
While noblemen with scented whips
Peddle lies from fattened lips
Voices raised in honest fear
Are drowned before they reach an ear
Just watch the screen, rapt, unblinking
Television does your thinking
Accept the credit, pay the debt
Take the chance and make the bet
Tow the line and wear the tie
Heckle the honest, praise the spy
Apathy has your gullet gripped
And leather fingers, sugar dipped
Have slipped on over zealous triggers
Suppressing freedom, defending figures
Chemical fed and bred to serve
Dry of tongue and numb of nerve
Right and wrong have merged together
And apathy, our chosen tether
The beast is neutered, caged and tame
The sinews of defiance, lame
Wash down pills with poison water
Disregard the silent slaughter
Slumbering as lions of old
While politicians growing bold
On plundered gains and stolen lives
Until their reckoning arrives
For once again the lions stir
And shackles fall from ancient fur
Beware the people, stay the whip
The masque of apathy must slip
Rise up, lions, sleep has passed
With every lie and bullet cast
A revolution overdue
We are still many, they are few
**
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
**The sweetest smile I've ever seen;
Left crumbs in my bed,
Clothes on the floor and taken me for a lot more.
It’s a movement of a different eye,
A different shape
A different style,
Place and time.
The sweetest smile I've ever seen;
Left dishes in the sink
A bald tire here and there.
Bills on the table and no food to spare.
The sweetest smile I"ve ever seen;
Shook its judgmental head and left me squarely dead.
Running off in tow.
Screaming words obscene, Then laughing in-between!
The sweetest smile I"ve ever seen;
Wraps around upside down, then pulls me through.
Each year comes anew.
The sweetest smile I've ever seen;
Comes in red, green, orange and even yellow too.
Some bright and others blue.
Different laughs that echo and others that heckle.
The sweetest smile I've ever seen;
Snored so loudly!
On the floor! I could take no more!
The sweetest smile I've ever seen;
Hogged the bed – slurred, read and purred in my head.
The sweetest smile I've ever seen;
Never drove, not one inch! – so the distance I would go.
Just to hear its passionate sigh, steamy desire and gaze into its bedroom eyes.
The sweetest smile I've ever seen;
Has depth and vibe. It has a way to survive.
With all its doubts, screams and shouts.
It sometimes hides before it completely backs out.
The sweetest smile I've ever seen;
Will always be, a treasure from those who just can not be.
Will there be a smile just for me?
I’ll just have to wait and see…
Copyright E Perez 2013**
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
Smile,
I am your simile
Cry,
I carry on
Shout at me,
I enjoy your hoot
Play fool with me,
I am cool
Wet me,
I am not upset
Hit me,
I am not hurt
Kick me,
I kiss you
Bite me,
I like your taste
Trample me,
I am fine
Pull my hair,
I rejoice
I am your clown
Heckle me,
I am your pickle
Punch me,
I am your gym zone
My dear light weight champion
You are my delight n’ sunlight
Who else can do so my honey,
If not my Good Grand God Baby!
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 9:23 PM UTC
There have been longer nights;
Restless hours, reels of pictures
Playing back our hours together;
On a loop, with no ending.
There have been unbidden thoughts;
You entering from the wings;
Me, like a funnyman startled
By a heckle or misjudged audience.
There have been warmer days;
When your eyes burned bright
And seemed to light up my way;
Your laugh setting fire to my heart.
There have been colder days;
As when we walked on grass;
You in borrowed warmth;
Repaying me, the proud lender.
There have been racking doubts
And moments of essential fear;
A jet dropping from the sky;
A hapless ship of fools.
There have been longer nights
But I really can’t remember when;
Since you left, the dark conspires
But the solstice brings your light.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC
Now! the damson crush of swallow wing
to foal the brays of uwound April,
in chattered sleeks of broom gleam hail
that agitate these pagan grains.
Where bud-nip rusts of Bullfinch creak
the gates of prickled secrecy,
the platted creed of wren-song
yolks the whiting peeks of May.
Where an absinthe canter quills a yarn
of nether-world calligraphy
with missives of anemone to
prose the woke terrain,
so a gattling shack of magpies prat
along the miscreants of bine
that heckle servile atrophy in
lung sweet roots of anchored sage
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 12:06 PM UTC
Not the first, nor the second, not even the third, nor the last-
you are further back in line- your turn is often past-
no leg to stand on, no claim to plea in town-
the people far outnumber you, and the people hold you down-
so the world can sedate you, dress you like a clown-
the hecklers heckle, the jesters jeckle-
they point out every flaw-
and count every freckle-
red headed step child, collage of human wastes-
foul smelling humans, grovel in distaste-
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 2:27 PM UTC
Sat upon throne, my naked body
racked of bone
Tin foil crown
kept within forested womb
dressed with silver chill
as you danced and dangled
ministry, my salvation
my doom
False light, flash
I throw down
you take my form
you take my form
you take my form
YOU TAKE MY FORM
I touch that part
I foam
You strike
AXE, ARROW, SPEAR!
Reborn
You grab again
I give you my youth
You just take
smile as you smoke
blackened you smile
the heckle of that look
reminisce at destruction!
Sit amongst papers
no mind for matters
recalling that glorious crown
hold what little
of that time I can
submerged
a tin foil womb
baking that ******* within
I TAKE YOUR FORM
and dance and dangle your salvation
we dance to destruction
We strike the core
I dance like a drunkard
mocking
MOCKING
mocking
I touch that part
mocking
You see that ***
You strike, I strike
You shoot, I shoot
we know the plot.
Our form, assumed
The dance of being alone
in that form
Only we know the tune
allowed for the beauty
of reality so dark
now a vacuum
the soot travels
whirls within tinged light
history's ghostly whim
******
I sit back down
I touch that spot
MOCKING
MOCKING
I breath, you breath
WE STRIKE
That feeling never far apart.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 5:20 AM UTC
I must beg your forgiveness up front for this verse.
I don't want to be ****** or rude or perverse,
but all over the world, things are going oh so wrong,
and it's due, in large part, to the President's ****
Some leaders have brains and they lead with their mind.
Some lead from the heart and are thoughtful and kind.
But President Trump, he shall reign and shall rule.
Being led from below by his shriveled old tool.
You can tell by the way that Trump likes to abuse
women like they are objects to conquer and use.
Trump surely likes weapons, strongmen and dictators.
Trump labels all challengers liars and haters.
It is this sort of strutting, denial and attacking
that comes from a man who is seriously lacking
in confidence and a true manly demeanor,
and to compensate, Trump is obsessed with his wiener!
Now, I don't want to ridicule, criticize, heckle
the importance and worth of every man's schmekel,
but it's rather perverse and off base and quite sick,
when you turn off your brain and just follow your ****
It just makes Trump so subject to manipulations
when he's flattered and aided by unfriendly nations.
Through his payoffs to hide his betrayals and ******
Trump's Johnson has led him to such Stormy seas!
When he calls out Bill Clinton for his cheating ways,
the hypocrisy never shall cease to amaze!
All the cover-ups prove him a liar and a fake -
A pathetic, small slave to his small trouser snake.
Now I hope in your heart some forgiveness you'll find
for me planting these images into your mind.
And let us all hope that it will not be long
'til the world's ruled no more by the President's ****
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 7:24 PM UTC
"Man, I can't stand the people who just panhandle and heckle the passersby. It's not their job to support your lifestyle and/or habits! I had one friend who was just harassing people; hey man, leave them the **** alone! I just wanted to punch him in the ******* face. Get a job, ya *** Trim some **** or some ****
"Heh, yeah.. people can be obtrusive about some things.. I still like to try to help if I can; I mean, we're all in this together."
"I don't want your ******* money! Well, I mean, I have a job; I could go over to that ATM and take my money out and spend it.. .but why the **** would I want to? I only say that 'cause some ************* **** me off. Support yourself, like the rest of the Natural World, you selfish *****
"Well, I'd feel better with my cash in hand than in some bank owned by some greedy, shifty, slick, loophole-fucking *************
"Wait a second, boy, do you paint your fingernails?"
"..Yes."
"Are you heterosexual?"
"... yes."
"Okay, just checkin'. I'm just curious. I don't care what you do with your **** as long as you're responsible and don't **** with well-meaning girls' hearts and **** We got too many diseased and pregnant ************* People deserve better than that stupid **** Some of 'em like being treated like objects, though. Them's the filthy'ns."
"Ookay.. thanks for the advice. I'm going to be on my way now. Have a great day."
"Alright. Don't be an ******* to anyone until they show that they deserve it! Be a ******* Person to other ******* People, you know what I mean, boy?"
"Yep, I sure do. It's been an experience; good morning."
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 10:30 AM UTC
Every word gets me closer
Each answer draws me near
My sand is falling, crashing, piling
In the hourglass of my tears
The pile is quickly growing
Postcards and letters by my bed
Each day they harass and heckle me
Clouding up my head
Torn apart and bleeding
Wounds never seem to heal
Every time my plans are set
Emotion breaks the deal
This is getting rather old
And my time is running out
I sign my name and slam the cover
Terrified by doubts
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 2:51 PM UTC
Idiot Man goes to Washington
well I need to come up with a brand new plan
I'm sure there are many more lives I can *****
gosh I bet you I can be a congressman
I mean after all I have no clue
yeah I'll strut my strut and pretend to be concerned
act like I have the people's best interest at heart
I'll argue with the others like they have learned
instead of doing right I'll pick my nose and ****
so round and around and around it goes
every four years the people try making a change
replacing the current Heckle and Jeckle crows
with new wiener shakers just as strange
so after four years of wasting everyone's time
what should I think up next
I mean after all I am Idiot Man
maybe send a picture of my **** with text
David Nelson ....
Aug 14, 2011
Aug 14, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
On a yellow-lighted main street we pause on a corner
For a moment, our companions lagging behind.
You set down the twelve-pack of beer by a lamp post.
I zip up my jacket. We both grumble, impatient.
I'm cold, you want to get drunker, we both
Shiver. You stand against a stone wall, we face
Each other across the sidewalk. Your hair
Flies into your eyes as you toss your head --
"Come the **** on!" -- at those half a block back.
A couple passes by us, the man in a dark tuxedo,
The woman in a white wedding gown and heels,
Hair in disarray. They stop their post-nuptial trudging, and she
Leans against the building for support to remove
Her shoes. His hand rests protectively on
Her back; none of us make eye contact. And then
Her shoes are off, bare feet padding lightly down
The November-chilled San Francisco sidewalk.
"Hurry up, you ******* I heckle backwards at our three
stragglers. "Newlyweds are moving faster than you."
We glance at each other again, you
Light a cigarette and shake your head. It hits
Me with a chuckle. "Man, those people
Just got married and here they are, walking
Down a street in the city at 2 in the morning."
"Right?" you reply, laughing a little. Our eyes meet
As if sharing a joke. And then we look away.
You cross the sidewalk in two long strides,
And bend to pick up your beer, handing me
Your cigarette. Within a block our quick pace
Has left the others behind again.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 5:01 AM UTC
Underneath the swaying hickory tree,
He plays his Gibson guitar.
Though his song crumples in the sweltering
Southern breeze, he continues to strum
His guitar strings with a zealous passion,
Expelling each song lyric outward from the
Disconsolate depths of his mourning heart
In hopes that someone, somewhere will listen.
Within the confines of his cluttered garage,
He plays his Gibson guitar.
Though an irritated sister bangs violently
On the door, he continues to play unperturbed
As his three bumbling friends dance clumsily
To the crooked melody and his younger
Brother rolls on the grimy floor in uncontrollable
Laughter at the screech of a leaky note.
In the bustling, sullied streets of the city,
He plays his Gibson guitar.
Though passers by attempt to avoid eye contact,
Whipping out their sleek smartphones and burying
Their faces in their screens as they hurry past him,
He continues to penetrate their eardrums with his
Dissonant ballads, pausing only to collect pennies
Thrown in sympathy at his worn, weathered feet.
In the Marlboro stench of a crumbling nightclub,
He plays his Gibson guitar.
Though some customers, unsettled by the cheap alcohol flowing
Pugnaciously through their veins, heckle him relentlessly,
His guitar continues to erupt with an unapologetic
Persistence, rattling the stomachs of even the
Sober clients into a nauseous, drunken ailment.
And now, despite the aching calluses ingrained in his fingertips,
The bumps and bruises deriding his cherished instrument, and
The overbearing lights irradiating him from the high iron canopy,
He continues to pour each poignant lyric from within him, just as he
Has always done, Letting each of his fingers dance from
String to string, and every verse arouse into graceful takeoff.
As he reaches the final verse of his final song, he pauses abruptly,
And listens to melodious, emphatic voices
Reciting each lyric and bursting into jubilant applause.
In the limelight of a thousand adoring eyes,
He still plays that Gibson guitar!!!
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 2:15 PM UTC
There is anger in your eyes.
Instability
when you look at me
I fear for my safety,
we both know what
you could do.
What you are capable of.
In these moments
your eyes are incapable of
love.
All I can do is look
above me, into
your face
and pray you do
not erase me.
You could.
We both know it.
If it had ever gone to blows,
who knows what
could have happened?
I honestly don't know,
and so, I sunk
low into the ground
when you glared.
I thought I could tame you,
through the rare times you were
scary
and the times in which you
laughed,
it was always a shame when
those moments passed.
Hello Mr Hyde
where is Mr Jeckll?
Allow me to laugh along
as you heckle me
and my family,
stand alongside me
and taunt me.
No one's going to stop you.
What could they do?
They thought me safe,
within your embrace.
The only one in our 'family'
who could calm you,
they all 'knew' that I loved you.
And I did.
You were everything.
Absolutely everything.
After all, you stayed.
You played along with
my childish whims,
you made me grin and laugh,
helped me plan my path
of dependence on you.
I thought that, as I grew,
you'd stay.
I thought you could be constant.
Apparently not.
You helped to start this rot,
began the knot in my stomach.
You took my breath away,
leaving me to choke on air
all too aware of my fragility,
all too incapable of stability.
Every one appears as you.
Everybody new.
Even if I trust them,
I still can't shake the feeling
that they're not going
to hang about.
Always worry they're about
to shout.
Always thinking I'm about to
accidentally shut them out
in panic.
You were far too manic.
Mood changing
rearranging our lives
at the drop of a hat.
Bat us out of the way,
scream until we sway
with your force.
In so many ways, I am lucky for that divorce.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 7:05 PM UTC
Eschewing that second thought,
let me tell you what I truly sought
come, lock me up in your heart
you, I've no doubt is a true despot
I don't hold back, life is way too short
can't heckle and haggle like an idiot
on the planes, see profligacy of robust water
hills are in the reign of wild sun and winds
Here ends the vast fields of ripened rice,
where prowl crooked foxes eyeing hens,
on the foot hills furious bisons flare nostrils,
as you climb,eager leopard smells blood.
Love is the fragrance that outlives the flower,
my trek to the mystic mountain continues where
**** and shroom grow tangled everywhere
the trek to the love hill, to strike gold,is in progress,
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 3:39 PM UTC
with a bit of dual casual id ities
one day i heckle
the next i jive
all along
the rolly coasty ride
when in the valley
hide I do
on the peaks
I giggle
too much
you see
saw me there
a bit of bi-polarized
a deer
in the
glare of a midnight
blue
full sun
and half-moon
house of horror
carnival ride
a need to be the center
of attention
if I can climb out
from under the bed
earning my board
dressed
as a siamese
twin
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC