"hollar" poems
They brought them
from the hollar
to the barge
to the field ~
into the wallows
in prayer
skinny little pinkers
cropped by ivory gates
buzzed with hot wire
hooked on bug worm
whistling dixie
around scrummers
and **** pen
peckers squawk
down eden lane
(nipping at jean lint
and fraystring)
deep in the hollows
a mad crow
(with steady tap)
the snouts high
on grunters
and squealers
stomping past
the feather pack
folded fingers
on the gatekeeper
(an engineer by
trade they'd say)
pigtails and
slack line
down the dusty lane
a snap of the jawbone
and lawn chairs settle
(facing north)
the bold script
and chimes
uneasy
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 1:11 PM UTC
Roses are red
She makes my ***** sore
She is my owner
And I am her *****
Im the property of thee Miss Jazreal
And my best reward possible is her pleasure
I gulp at the sight of her sharp pointed heel
But her kisses at the end are my soothing treasure
I try to be an obident boy
Even though everytime she whips me I whimper and hollar
But at the end of the day Ill still be her feminine toy
Because Im bound to her by both love and collar
Miss Jazreal wears the pants in this relationship and Im proud to say that I wear the *******
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 2:14 PM UTC
Cups runneth over
and over
& over
from absinthe to zinfandel.
Men & women parade the streets
with whimsical abandoned
swaying bodies
smiling,
like they just got laid--
or are about to.
******* bathrooms roar
while marijuana balconies cackle--
even the folks staying in
have their music turned up
so nobody can hear them *******
Barefoot indulgence
and tropical dresses flowing
in the midnight air--
even the cops don't care,
this is business.
Every whoop and hollar
is a dollar in their pocket.
Each vehicle blaires
a different song
chaos to the ears
becomes rhythm
for the body-
shots don't need to be in glasses,
grinding is the traditional greeting.
The young come for the atmosphere,
the older for the work release...
everyone is reckless on the weekend,
all the bars runneth over
and over
& over.
A ritualistic hedonism
leads to a collective sleep
that slowly, slowly
overtakes us all
as we slowly fade,
for a few hours until
Cups runneth over again
and over
& over
from absinthe to zinfandel.
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 7:16 AM UTC
Did you feel it?
'Round about 11:37pm
Eastern
Last night
I was rebroadcasting
This enormous grin
This joyous
Guffaw
This hoot
And hollar
A small
Connection
Causing
And releasing
A death star sized
Blast of joy
You had to feel it
It was
Just after
She left
When I
Could think
Again
Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 7:36 AM UTC
’s gone phishin’
For some fools a’wishin’
They could whup
The good ole USA
They all voted for some chump
Who always takes a big fat dump
On the good ole USA
They hollar and they scream and shout
And then they cry and then they pout
Because they’ll never get their way
Sedition
‘s gone phishin’
For some fools a’wishin’
They weren't so sad
In the good ole USA
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
I think that possibly maybe I'm falling for you
Sad part you don't even have a clue
It's me I hollar but you're stuck in your own head
Me I yell but there is no one at the door
Look I say but you're up in your attic
I run searching for you in the halls of your mind and you are searching for something that you'll never find
Turn around I say but my words are whispers carried through the wind
The noise unable to reach you
It's like I don't exist and for a second I stop and look around its my memories playing a trick on me because you really were never there in this attic we both share
but we don't and its my attic that I need to clean out I've got bones under my bed and bats in my head
I forget what I'm doing in this basement walking around the empty spaces
...
Wasn't I in the attic?
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 11:54 PM UTC
Ring ring, screamed the teens phone,
Ding **** cried the bell,
No ones answered a door for a friend,
Since the great wifi curtain fell,
Pay no attention to what you can be,
A wonderful world awaits,
Ran by blood and money,
Oh! The beauty of business baits,
The one true God,
the almighty dollar,
Dethrones that fraud.
And silences a Hollar.
Why feed the hungry,
When you can feed yourself,
Why give clean water,
When you can stock your shelf?
Well maybe I'm just tired,
Of always making excuses,
And maybe im just sick,
Of the horrible things we do,
I want a world desired,
Otherwise we're all useless.
I've given up on the *****
That claims he wants what's best for you.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
Ha im a sicko
a ******
a troubled youth
grown to a ***** mouth
Been sellin dope out the days inn
yeap she look at me
This ***** going in
Have her hollar out
eat that *****
she know im good
cuz im mexican
ill eat the taco
treat that ***** like a buffet
and here I go again
she pop that *** back
and I make it soakin wet
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
Dad went down to the corner store
For smokes.
He caught the first thing smoking out of the vicinity.
Left his old steel lighter sitting on the chair
Still stting there
Faithfull as a tick hound.
Guess he could see his options shrinking
So I figure that **** got pop to thinking..
Pop musta rolled snake eyes and went west with the
Urge by the way that the crow flys.
All that I know is he's ashole and elbows
A track star in training.no grass under his feet.
Dad you are a gent and a scholar.
And if your ever in town just give me a hollar. NOT.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
There once was an old man named Benny.
Who never in life saw a penny.
When once saw him dollar,
he fainted in a hollar.
O poorest! the old man named Benny.
#LIMERICK
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 5:29 AM UTC
The witness let out a parody of a scream
Strangled against the depths of the hollar.
The mountain like an inky black old God.
It spoke in tectonic speeds
It shocked the witness
Every cell moved in protest
Its mind was rent from body
Scattered to the void
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 9:43 AM UTC
Guess what?
Today, I didn't find the cure for cancer.
I didn't stay faithful to my wife. I didn't
call up my father and tell
him Happy Birthday. I didn't
bother to feed my goldfish.
Instead, I stayed in bed all day
and texted men and women
and anyone just as lonely as I am.
I didn't bother to separate the whites
from darks. I skipped breakfast;
had two large pizzas with
extra cheese delivered. And
you know what? I didn't tip.
I burped in the girl's face
told her it doesn't
get much better than this.
She smiled at me, turned
around and as she was walking towards
her vehicle, I whistled and said
Nice *** there, Sparky.
Then I was suddenly inspired to write
a poem about what I didn't do. And how
much I enjoyed being on the other side
of accomplishment, goal setting, and
your typical, modern bragging rights.
Today, I thought
being a sore on the mouth
of life was much more charming
than flaunting money. I thought
it best to be honest rather than
a sick, fat facade marching his ego
down the aisle; digging through the many
layers of the inferno.
If only mother could see me now.
She'd offer me one more cigarette
from her deathbed; make a racist joke;
hollar, hoot, and hack.
Then tell me she's proud of me.
And I'd shout, *you bet your *** you are!*
right back.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 2:59 AM UTC
There he was, just a boy, sitt'in by the street,
impressionable and young, innocent through and through,
up comes a ***** giving him a smile that was sweet,
crooked teeth, coked up nose and spitting a loogie of chew,
she looked at him and impressed a world he never knew.
"Hey there boy, you're looking bored, happen to got a dollar?
I swear, you got enough and I'm gonna make you hollar!"
The boy stared at the boisterous cleavage which she presented,
as he didn't realize the trouble she fermented,
he stood up tall and looked her in the eye,
and replied to her with his voice so wry,
"Now listen up ***** and listen well,
I won't pay a dollar until I prove it isn't hell!
But if you can **** and **** well then time will tell..."
The boy had no idea what he had said,
but he wanted to be like his father who was now dead.
The ***** looked down in utter shock,
but this didn't stop her from making money from ****
she taught the boy her every move,
which in the future he would learn to improve.
When it was done that young man had changed,
his mental capacity had re-arranged,
you see, in his life he had learned so many things,
about violence, *** and all the drug kings,
people would blame it upon the violent/minority gene
but what can you expect, when someone is just thirteen?
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
we suckle the **** of the "civilized" world
thats designed for your comfort and your ease.
but we are all blind, hit stop and rewind.
its the shaman that really sees.
umbilical chord to the material world
designed for fleeting satisfaction.
chasing for tomorrow, life that's full of sorrow.
fooled by capitalist distraction.
turn our backs on nature, killing for the dollar. eat some of nature's candy so you can hear the mother hollar. dog eat dog, no more running with the pack. shaman saying he could change the world with the fungus in his sack.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 2:54 PM UTC
She sneaks out at night
Busts a couple moves
Makes few dollars
Couple men hollar
She's beaten and bruised
And she doesn't no what else to do
Rent is coming
She keeps reaching for god
But she feels all her sins have kept him from listening to each of her prayers
Please hear me
Please hear me
Each night she cries
My baby she needs me
Her father has died
I work nine to five
But it's never enough
And the only thing that keeps me going is this bag of white stuff
If I leave her she'll go straight through the state
And her life will be filled with rage and hate so I stay
And try
But I know it's not right
When will our lives ever touch light
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 12:39 AM UTC
The night train moves
Quickly in the night's air
And the noise from the train
Keeps a steady beat lugging home.
I gotten a buzz of inspiration
Sweet inspiration from other poets
And their words expressed
To make me write these lines even now.
Good vibrations
Not like the Beach Boys
But perhaps more lyrical
Like Langston, Nikki, and yes Butterfly as well.
Inspired in lyrical soundbites
Feeding my very soul deep inside.
Makes me wanna hollar
Shout it to the world
I gotten bitten by the Poetic Bug
An inspiration that's catchy
To make me write like this....
July, 2004
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 3:22 PM UTC
With every hug and kiss you gave I could smell the alcohol pour from your mouth and seep through my pale, white, delicate skin...you once said the bottle was your best friend.
Mom always told me addiction was the work of the devil and I wish it was a lie but father when I looked you in the eyes..I saw a completely different guy.
I would go days on end craving for your attention...hoping you'd care about your little girl instead of your "drinking condition".
Look at me. Notice me. Love me father. I can't help but to scream, shout and hollar. Hear me out for I am your daughter.
Ik you get angry and I know you get upset...but father please put your fists of steal to rest.
Can't you see that I'm hurt and confused? I want to be loved but instead I've become abused & bruised.
So what is your reason for coming back all of the sudden? When at a time you couldn't be a father...couldn't even be a husband?
Ik that you're a changed man but do I have a change of heart? To throw the past away and begin with a fresh start?
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 12:16 AM UTC