"hecklers" poems
Elevate the sound
Slowly and surely
you have to listen
smell, taste and touch
the music
Alcohol? Yes.
Drugs? Yes.
What kinds? All kinds.
60 people in a room w/ worn out walls
an unwanted male is followed by hecklers
the matriarchs have had enough
and bull him to the door
He doesn't want to leave
the party is just beginning
The clowns follow him
like wild hyenas
He fights like a lion
targets the clan of the matriarch
the young and weak
is it correct to aim the violence on the weak
because the strong is of the opposite gender?
Is it right to abuse the rule
Woman: the untouchable
People being to watch
w/ their dying spectators eyes
in another section a large male confronts the house owner
They begin their violent dance of limbs
Swarming bodies collide
violent outburst
chaotic music to accompany
I scream a devils scream
fighting everywhere
Another matriarch
she jumps on the crowd
using a whiskey bottle for a club
dancing on top of the twirling bodies of energy
A pit-bull barks aggressively
people start to jump out windows
everybody is way too high
The fighting stops
with the arrival of cops
nobody listens
their vision of authority thwarted
nobody is arrested
narcotics present
amphetamine fuel
We burned a cross in a large fire half an hour earlier
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 10:48 AM UTC
Antsy aardvarks all
accept ants accordingly
as an addiction
Bamboo bayonets
bought by barbaric, beastly
barons bite beatniks
Cloistered cobblers can
color candy-cane conches
concealing crooners
Daffodils doodle
daydreams down, debauchery
demons deafening
Every eon each
electric elephant eats
eleven elk eggs
For fun fantasies
file films filosophic'ly
filling filaments
Go get greens
Get grass grayer gal
goonie ghoul
Hello high hammock
how hooligans heave haddocks
heathenly hecklers
Igloos ixist in
icy islands interning
internationally
Jello jam jizzy
Jacks jostling jewels juney
jump jump joop jail
Dec 27, 2009
Dec 27, 2009 at 9:11 PM UTC
I'm not so very special
I'm no way near essential
The world can cope without me
Blink and you just may miss me
I'm not a key ingredient
I'm pretty much redundant
It continues to amaze me
that God can bother with me
I find He always has the knack
to dig deep way down in the sack
and lift up what he finds there
to a place He has made where
no matter how far you've fallen
how far lost you have become
He clearly still remembers you
the uniqueness that He placed in you
So don't listen to the hecklers
don't dare settle for any less
Tune in only to His voice
and know this: you are His choice
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 10:26 PM UTC
He opened the binding of The Weeping Book
curiousity piqued, he needed to look
but how he wished he had never seen
the horrors therein that were so obscene.
The guilt of man along the passage of time
senseless slaughter without reason or rhyme
each page he turned ill had been done
by book possessed he ventured on.
The **** and pillage of those years before
children the victims of violent war
races were mixed, the one good thing
vicious hecklers of bigotry sing.
On and on through the pages now
the hurt caused pain behind his brow
saints and sinners all listed here
their sins for all to see quite clear.
He saw the vilest sins of history's pain
enslavement of those for other's gain
let loose man's done some terrible things
hope's voice is quelled by vicious stings.
The Weeping Book so perfect in name
from front to end it's full of shame
and he a priest of noble birth
would find before day's end, his worth.
No water passed his lips, nor food
his mind so troubled by soured mood
and then the page on which he gazed
revealed the future of a man gone crazed.
No change could he make to the book
transfixed at his poor fate he'd look
and as he pushed the dagger deep
as fate revealed he went to sleep.
The Weeping Book then slammed tight shut
till guilty man next came and put
his hand upon the tome's dark cover
then his sad fate he'd soon discover.
©Joe Wilson – The Weeping Book…2014
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
Coming down, it all falls down.
let yourself fly away like free bird.
slow up your pace losing full speed,
lend your ears to things heard.
all gathered 'round please take heed.
Coming down, it all falls down.
trading this nightmare for a dream.
down on my knees eyes to sky,
carvings I read what do they mean?
I stare at the faces of passersby.
Coming down, it all falls down.
I'll move on to a place for only bards.
pushed 'n shoved idiots don't budge,
bang their gavels loud and hard.
people acting like a judge.
Coming down, it all falls down.
one day grins will turn to frowns.
hecklers claim seeds sowed,
in this clean shaven town.
no "X's" mark the spot or roads.
Coming down, it all falls down.
won't anybody put'em in place?
misplaced doubt and fear,
crooked smirk on face.
people stop and sneer.
Coming down, it all falls down.
you see won't rearrange?
that what you think
it never changes,
how can it be?
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 12:08 PM UTC
Life is an eternal struggle of days filled with black or white
Grey is hardly seen when the ride takes flight.
What a journey this ride is on, filled with the front seats to right or wrong,
With hecklers that are too eager to blame,
To shame without doubt, conscience and name
Faceless nomads with pointed fingers, who start the flame.
A flame, from which this journey began, extinguished with jealousy and madness
Another reason the human race to bathe in their sadness.
Life should be a flame but lived, loved and cherished
As this flame can go out at any time
Out without saying goodbye to the ones most missed
My flame is burning crazily and maybe out of control
So quickly burning and twice as bright
Live each day as it could be your last, one day, one night
As Love maybe for poets or so they say
But for now at least, I live for the day.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 6:34 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
From dawn until dusk
To the sweat, dripping musk;
From attacks of musth
To that One Golden month.
Rising solid in the dawn--
As the bronzed Ego of Purpose--
Mustering self-esteem's brawn
Cools my trademark Nervose Verbose
But do appointments, notes,
Lectures, hecklers, and Beckers,
Distract the mind that dotes?
The Heart Desperate for Nectar?
Hah! such defensive thoughts....
Fallacies of Neuroses.
Just polishing my doubts,
Vainly "pleasing" my unease.
Monday's mundanity
Fails my lie of character--
Left with Insanity
Railing lines under pressure
And then, faces--balance blurs
Into downed neurons
Where not nobody cares to
"Think about the children!"
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
Its called public speaking
But I am utterly alone in front of this fake,
fiber board,
paper figgiting,
******* podium.
I can see it in their eyes.
They anticipate my words
as much as I loath them.
Cough,
clear you throat,
your a performer
a great juggler
bleeding in front of a room of razor toothed hecklers.
I'm sure they'll remember your name
they'll burn the ground you've stepped on
to cleanse it of your lingering, godless opinions.
They're waiting fruit in hand
to offer you prizes
or splatter you with disdain
and self serving amusement.
Speak
its now or never
the orators you admire
roll in their graves with laughter.
I'm sorry,
did you mean to be taken seriously?
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 3:35 PM UTC
I can't stop it from making an *** of me..
He's saying he's Poe now....what a blasphemous fool...
I gotta put him on ice
He ain't being nice...
And now all the hecklers pool.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 4:22 AM UTC
Just in case you
couldn't
guess, it's not a
a fair fight
or a level
playing field.
It's you with
boxing gloves
and them with
machine guns.
It's Van Gogh
throwing his paintings
out the window
to stop the hecklers.
It's Janis falling
down
the stairs, lonely
and
broken
looking for love.
It's Morrison seeing
the game for
what it was,
wanting to disappear
in France and
write poetry,
then dying in a
bathtub with a
witch in the wings.
It's morphine dreams
and thorazine days.
It's the tiger
declawed and lobotomized
at the zoo.
It's the lobster
cursed with
precious meat.
It's the statue of liberty,
burning her bra
and impaling
working class men with
her stiletto heels.
It's Gogol
dying after a
prolonged fast,
because a charlatan
told him
it was evil.
It's the elephant
domesticated by
the cage, but
still dreaming of
the Serengeti.
It's the dolphin in
a Hollywood
swimming pool,
a shark in your
coffee cup;
it's the criminality
of releasing the insane
from their cages to
wander the streets of
Santa Barbara.
It's pathetic and putrid,
a setup up;
the perfect tragedy;
a crime that goes beyond
denunciation.
It's what they will continue
to do to
you and me
until someone or something
intervenes.
Aug 7, 2021
Aug 7, 2021 at 11:37 AM UTC
the greatest hecklers have never stepped foot in the batters box, the greatest critics have never stepped in the arena, the greatest complainers have never been servers
May 27, 2023
May 27, 2023 at 4:06 AM UTC
Blunt honesty
it screams out my name
and synonyms of myself which include words like lame
I don't tune them out because people say it makes us stronger
Hecklers left and right appear though, yet my sadness only lasts longer
I've been diagnosed and yet I welcome blunt honesty with open arms
Because if I don't take it now one day I'll set off alarms
The alarms I destruct because my depression has spewed
And I don't set them off but the reason that I do
is because I meant to destroy them
so that no one could help
I'm reckless and sad but I couldn't bother someone with a yelp
My life is not theirs to care for
I'm my own person
And I'm living to be stronger
So I'll take the blunt honesty
And be sad for much longer
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 9:31 PM UTC
In Front of This Crowd
This is it.
I’m up
Here I go in front of this crowd
As I'm prepared to pull the best performance of my life and distract myself from the fact that my lunch is about to leave my stomach!
Wait…
Did… My stomach just rumble?
Did my… mic just catch that??
Great…
Not my best first impression....
I try to recover as quickly and swiftly and smoothly as possible
But I'm back to fumbling and stuttering and I drop… my… notebook.
GREAT!
I sneak a peek at the crowd and I see some snickering.
Some impatient stares, half of them even mixed with anger.
Some gave a sympathetic nod to continue
I stammer a quick apology and continue introductions
All the while thinking “This is just the introduction…”
As I clear my throat some more, I hear a couple of hecklers boo me.
I even hear one say “Either get on with it or GET OFF THE STAGE!”
Another member of the crowd shushes the heckler, “Give him a chance! You might upset him!”
But it was too late.
I'm not sure what clicked within me, but something ignited within me.
Something that makes me want to prove the hecklers wrong.
No. To shut them up!
Next thing I knew?
I close my eyes,
Took a breath
Looked at my notebook
And spoke.
And I continued to speak and read aloud the scribbles in my notebook that only I understand.
Words that slip out of my mouth like a thief in the night!
Suddenly, the crowd wasn't there anymore
It was just me
Me and my reflection
The same reflection who is my biggest fan and my biggest critic.
The same reflection whom I practiced with day and night.
Yes, that same reflection that I stare into since as far as I remember!
Yes. That reflection, whom I nodded to in confidence and who nods back as to say “you got this.”
And the words continue to spill
The crowd suddenly filled with ooh’s and aah’s.
I’m back on earth
Back In front of this crowd
But I continue to speak
Speak with hurt, heartache, joy, pain, laughter, tears, inspirations and frustrations that has been haunting me my whole life
I continue to speak
Despite the fact I'm nervous
I continue to speak.
Despite the fact that there are butterflies bumping uglies in my stomach. (Which, by the way, I would highly appreciate if they stop that.)
I continue to speak!
I continue to speak for the most painful, grueling,agonizing, longest 3 minutes of my life!
And then I'm finished.
I finish speaking as I take a leek back to the crowd
Some speechless.
Some have their mouths wide open in awe
Some are even smiling.
And then the crowd applause
I stare in awe of what just happened.
What I just done in front of this crowd.
And then I snap out of it
And quickly blurt out
“Thank you! Be sure to follow me on Instagram at writingsilhouette! That’s W R I T I N G S I L H O U E T T E at instagram! BYE!”
By: Curtis “Sillo” Jones
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 3:18 PM UTC