"hustling" poems
It was a lovely afternoon
When I felt dizzy and soon
Started to feel as if my chair's moving
I looked up at the pendant hanging
Freely and also dancing
Back and forth
It wasn't just me who was moved
It was the earth and the whole building hoofed
Back and forth
One slip of plate
And it moved the whole earth.
It was mild
I hoped it won't go wild
Calling for my loved ones
I ran to the ground
People hustling, steps making a panic sound
From the eighth floor I felt it stopped
But as if it read my mind, earth again rocked
More than I've ever felt before
We all hustled downstairs in case it got wilder more
Old people, children running,
Mothers, scared, panicked, scooting.
Down the building everyone waited
Till the earth slowy bated
And stopped in a sudden motion
We were glad it wasn't that strong
Back to home, we all scurried
Switched on our televisions in a hurry.
Though the earth was soft on us
There were places where everything was crushed,
Homes, offices, families destroyed
Everything because of simple but strong
Back and forth
What is happening in the world?
Is it the human being which the earth loaths?
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 5:40 AM UTC
Uhh,..Young Ston, What up..
Shoutout to my hustling **** niggas..Shoutout to my hustling gangstas..Uhh, Shoutout to all my hustling ****** ****** Shoutout to all my ****** real ****** aye..
/OFTR, We ****** Hustlers man & , (we handle our business, Yeah*2)..Aye we some ****** real ****** & we (handle our business*4),Our business Yeah..OFTR we ****** Hustlers man , Aye we some real niggas..Stoned young ****** , but we (handle our business4) our business..(Yeah we handle our business2).. Handle (our business*2)..,OFTR, we gangstas..we ****** hustlers man Yeah we stay high all day. ,but (we take care of business, Yeah2)..we take care of business man.. Handle (our business3)..we some ****** real ****** but (we get to business, Yeah*3)..We ****** Hustling young ****** (young real niggas2)..gangsta (thugging..real niggas3)...Yeah,OFTR, We ****** Hustlers,man..(We handle our business..3) (Yeah we handle business3) man...we (handle business,2)..our business (we handle..our business..2)(our business2)..nigga (Yeah we bout our business4)..We some ****** Hustling (Thugging..gangsta niggas3)..OFTR..(Stoned young niggas3),..but we bout our **** Yeah we ****** (Hustling Gangsta young niggas*3),We gangstas nigga..ONLY FOR THE REAL..
Aye Yeah..
(we handle our business4)..handle (our business3)..Aye we some ****** Hustlers man Aye, Yeah (We bout our business2).Yeah we (take care of business2).. We take care of (our business..*2)business..We busy
We bout our business, Yeah we handle business man, We some Thugging ****** we some gangsta ****** & (we stay ****** nigga*2)..Aye, but we all on our **** man, Yeah..We ****** Hustlers ***** Yeah (we handle our business2)..(our business3)..Yeah..Uhh
I wake up in the morning I gotta Thank God, & I gotta get (back to ryhming, back to grinding*2),back to taking care of business..my business nigga,Aye, they say stick to what you do best & stick to what you know man..& stay true to yourself, don't let these devils confuse you & mislead you to the wrong path my *****
Aye, hard work doesn't go unnoticed & that's real talk, this is real game from a younging, don't be scared to learn something from me, don't be a fool man, I know they don't know too much about me, The Young ****** Disciple, but I'm one of the realest rappers that's still alive tho dude, Fo sho,I'm the best rapper in Atlanta OFTR, we our own league dawg..& I'm the commissioner, we will never fall, we stand tall, & We forever gone ball, stay strong, & keep grinding.., Yeah, we take care of business..
Yeah..We bout our business..
/We ****** Hustlers, ****** (young niggas,2) that (handle our business,2..)(our business2)..Yeah we take care (of business3), Yeah/*2
Aye we getting to business..man , I'm making these hoes famous just for one night my nig,I'm macking on these hoes,like the 70s, then I'm (back to business2) man..I handle (my business2),yeah, my ***** I'm too much , too handle, I'm too much to control,Young Ston nigga..(too much*2).. Man
I got the full control of my music..I got the control now Kendrick,..Uhh,I'm proving all of them ***** *** critics so wrong now man..They made a big mistake dobuting on a young ***** a ****** Hustling Thuggin Gangsta,ayo The system created a monster that's about to go off like Godzilla on my city dawg, I'm causing alot of chaos my nigga,no regrets
Fo show dude ..Ohhwoah..Uhh.
Shoutout to my hustling **** niggas..Shoutout to my hustling gangstas..Uhh, Shoutout to all my hustling ****** ****** Shoutout to all my ****** real ****** aye..OFTR
We ****** Hustlers.. ONLY FOR THE REAL
mufucker
Yeah..
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
Death is easy and life is hard
Hard to fathom such an illogical part
Because mentally I’m not ready to live in this mentality
I’m emotionally flawed like original sin
Always cursed to live another hustling binge
While constantly being shuttled like cattle
Treated like sheep
With every lie told I weep
When will we awaken from this long sleep?
Living every day like a hustle
Another world is cut off
In the everyday struggle
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
On the land molded by footsteps and ruled by obnoxiously bleached clowns,
Visited by swarms of neighborhood guttersnipes and the opulent from uptown.
Allured by the traditional Irish circus music and the grinding of rusted gears,
To arrive at dawn and to leave only when the night sky is tired of fireworks and flares.
Skittish and gleaming eyes would roll on the floor, struck by daze and lost in wonderment,
At the marvel of giant steel rides and god forsaken and socially foretoken genetic mutants.
The word of a woman with two faces and the boy with a tail would make any catholic priest run.
Amusing the rational ones, alongside the man with elastic skin and the girl with the forked tongue.
The opera lady with outlandish proportions and tumorous lips sings to break a piece of cheap glassware.
Little do people know,that the magician’s red gloves are actually stained with blood of rabbit that disappeared.
Their noses get caught in the medley of fragrances from the exotic perfumes shop,
Blended with the saccharine tang from the stall that sells candy floss and soda pops.
Indulging over the overly priced confectioneries at the stall of the baker with the forbidding grin.
Try it a hundred times,try it a thousand,you’ll never get the fifth one right in the game of rings.
People will come out screaming from the haunted house,only to laugh about it later,
Little do they know,that skeletons that drove them pale and white couldn't get any realer.
They’ll jostle and struggle to make their way through the crowd to various rides and attractions.
Hustling to navigate through the maze the carnival is, encountered by countless illusions.
And once your body wears out and senses give in,that’s when you've truly entered the carnival state of mind.
Your ears stinging ,nose stifled,tongue baffled, eyes exhausted,and your sense of judgment blinded.
That’s when my masked act begins,the most profitable act at the carnival,
Diving into the heart of the crowd,to draw an act of brilliance lasting an ephemeral.
Slithering across the crowd in a different disguise every hour,concealed by stealth.
Sneaking into every nook and corner and slipping my furtive hands into your pockets for a little bit of wealth.
Only to dine with the clowns and the carnival family at the haunted house at the end of the day.
And of course, rabbits for dinner,if the baker may
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 3:13 AM UTC
I'm writing this poem to be ignored
like many of you
I enjoy being a poet
of keen irrelevance
a literary luminaire
of solitude
a lost writing ghost
a megalomaniac haunting himself
a waiting oracle
waiting
for the occult muse door mouse to tap dance
whispering night babble
or having a cooked chicken fly into my mouth
while i take searing snapshots
of erratic images
puzzling them into words
from boundless burdens
of heaping intestinal bluesy aftermaths exodus of conscience
bruising my self like a ********* in heat
on out of control run-on rants
and blood razor drenched mysticism
while real men drive earth movers
drink bruskies
and kick ***
hustling time share Chinese handcuff contracts
and up sell social justice platitudes
fit for pie in the sky levitating hysteria
lives shatter like red ice
in endless cacophonies of skull clobbering effacement
I'm writing this poem to be ignored
and no one lets me down
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 3:32 PM UTC
I am your Dystopian girl
got a black leather vest
here at the bottom of the world,
wearing shades so I can't see the decline.
I stand in the dark and wait for nothing
under this rusted and broken street lamp.
Heat from crowded streets and hustling alleys
keeps the blood moving in my veins for now.
Lament if you need, cry if you want
buy into the creed, it's Dystopia baby
that we made by hand with our friends
we like to call misery and disease.
We're always looking for a hero
to step up to the plate but the
early bird special is apathy baked.
It's Dystopia baby, wake up and smell the decay.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC
may the way that gives way to this accord of may be in awe of truth and not the fruits of disarray
I shall be meditating upon the roads travelled and many discoveries gather that I have unravelled
I shall curl my high excitements and misguided ambitions to unfurl what the calls of the wise unfurl and admonish
In the mist amidst the tricking twists of fits and false gists, may I hold up fists that will seize to desist and delete the disease of fallacy in curtailed wit
In the shadows dark, some pale
may I not fade into the tales of lies and manipulative games
In the guise of dames so modern and fabulously inclined to fame,
may I guage and carry my animosity into the mystery of my identity where only the genuine and real can relate
In the encounters with material and all that deters from the mystic and ethereal,
I hope to remember the real surreal to surmise the reels of fantasy thrills in graphic frills and euphonic trills
However the gigantic systems of the world in money, greed, vanity or lust, may doctor sickness into the souls of the lost and weak:
may my heart remain meek and my vision bright and led by the lens of the soul....
With or without I pray not as a religious pilgrim but a sage seeking neverending Light... ever the more grateful, harnessing the grapes of creation, worshiping a servant's code in humility.
hustling about this rash hassle of life overshadowed by pyramids and castles
remaining true to the cause even when temptation is endlessly bustling about
remember remember the hustle when you were down and out without
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
THE GRAVE of Alexander Hamilton is in Trinity yard at the end of Wall Street.
The grave of Robert Fulton likewise is in Trinity yard where Wall Street stops.
And in this yard stenogs, bundle boys, scrubwomen, sit on the tombstones, and walk on the grass of graves, speaking of war and weather, of babies, wages and love.
An iron picket fence ... and streaming thousands along Broadway sidewalks ... straw hats, faces, legs ... a singing, talking, hustling river ... down the great street that ends with a Sea.
... easy is the sleep of Alexander Hamilton.
... easy is the sleep of Robert Fulton.
... easy are the great governments and the great steamboats.
3.2k
I'm just smoking my **** &
(spitting facts*2)..nigga..
Aye..(Smoking **** & spitting facts*2..)
/I stay (smoking **** & spitting facts2)../2
Smoking **** & spitting facts..
/Smoking weed*3
&
Spitting Facts*3
I stay (smoking **** *2) & spitting facts
/*2..
Spitting facts..
That's what I stay doing man,Yeah Aye....just
(Smoking **** & Spitting Facts*2)..I stay (smoking **** & spitting facts2)..(Spitting facts2)....& smoking **** up..Yeah man
The real is back , we been here, we never left, we just evolve man, evolve yeah to bring death to all the fake rappers, Yeah ***** I stay (smoking **** & spitting facts2)..(Spitting facts2)..Ayo, I'm on my gangsta **** Ayo I need me a platinum grill, what up DJ Drama. We need to collab, & do a mixtape real quick..,Aye I stay (smoking **** & spitting facts..,*2)..Aye I don't want no drama or any problems homie, I just want to get my cheddar, I roll alot of marijuana Yeah so what man, but I also tell the people what's real Yeah man..
I'm bout to get so many **** bands, so much that I gotta throw some to the fam, Aye.shit, I might throw some to the fans,..Aye man, I'm bout to cause so many problems ***** like Ol ***** Bastard,Aye..I stay (smoking **** & spitting facts*3)..Yeah man..,my ***** turn on the fan, its so much **** smoke up in the air that I'm starting to lose breath, Yeah I smoke awesome,.. I smoke on that dope, that choke,Yeah ***** that potent..while I'm rhyming to improve society not impress it..
Yeah I'm smoking **** & spitting game to the youth man..Let's get it..Aye..
Aye..(Smoking **** & spitting facts*2..)
/I stay (smoking **** & spitting facts2)../2
Smoking **** & spitting facts..
/Smoking weed*3
&
Spitting Facts*3
I stay (smoking **** *2) & spitting facts
/*2..
Spitting facts..
That's what I stay doing man,Yeah Aye....just
(Smoking **** & Spitting Facts*2)..I stay (smoking **** & spitting facts2)..(Spitting facts2) & smoking **** up....Yeah man
Mufuck a opinion, when all I rap about is the truth my nigga,..I be spitting facts, so Talk yo **** be a critic man, Imma be a hustling young ***** Yeah a hard worker, a go getta, a goal digger, A dream chaser..Yeah,
I be spitting facts while these other rappers be spooning each other..Sodom and
Gomorrah type **** ..they fooling the people, but yall dumb ***** don't wanna listen to what's real,..so be it..Imma still rhyme this same way..I know I can Spark the mind up of a future revolutionary leader mane..Yeah....Aye
I'm
(Smoking **** & spitting facts.. Spitting facts, Aye*3)
I'm the best MC in Atlanta since Outcast,.. Yeah the biggest fish, so if the industry trys to hook me, Imma drown their ship..I'm a Outcast of this world no fallen angel..Im my favoritest artist , Young Ston he be going so **** hard, Yo he be (spitting facts*2)..Aye, I'm smoking on a doop, 2 in 1 dawg, King size cone, while I'm writing scriptures..Aye..Yeah..Uhh
(I'm smoking **** & spitting facts*2)
Smoking weed*3
&
Spitting Facts*3
Uhh,..I stay (smoking **** & spitting facts*2)..
Yeah (spitting facts*2)
I'm just smoking my **** &
(spitting facts*2)..nigga
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 1:29 PM UTC
If Tuesdays are bad news days
Fridays are always sideways
Struggling
Hustling
Fumbling
Tumbling
Trembling stuttering
Impolite utterances
Brotherless
Misguided mothering
Distant cousins
Conditioned lovers
Struck by thunder
No structure to govern...
Monday is gonna come...
No matter what goes on in your life Monday is going to come
Give me one time that Monday have not approached?
Hold your head
You'll be alright
If not
Monday is still on it's way
If you stay stuck in muck
The world isn't
It will move onto a new week
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC
Rise softly, rise gently, waking dawn
And let the drowsy sun yawn a while
Beside me, my love sleeps in peaceful bliss
With crescent eyes and a crescent smile
The morning breeze may tease the blooms
That wait to unfold with the sun's blush
- But softly, blow gently, oh morning breeze
Let the wind chimes be still, quiet, hushed
Rest your melodies, singing birds and bees
And cease the fluttering of your wings
The hum, the drone, the medleys
Quiet the rustling and the whispering
Why gurgle so loud - river- change your course
Flow far away, past the mangroves
For how lustily you gush, bubbles and froth
Shhshh...love sleeps - eyes closed
But alas - the river stays, making its music
The birds from their songs shall never cease
And the morning breeze breathes free
Tinkling wind chimes, hustling leaves
Rise - the sun shall and burst in gold
And the world'll be in daylight's warm embrace
My love will waken yet I still revel -
For sun lights the grace of my love's face
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 10:34 AM UTC
We wait at the same stop.
It's pouring, and we join the huddle of people
Keeping dry under the cold metal.
I expect her to get on one of the Arab bus lines,
Because she's an Arab.
That was racist and I smile to myself when
She gets on the 74 with me.
We end up jammed in the middle, standing face to face
In a sea of human waves, getting on, off, hustling.
There is an Ethiopian lady next to us with a baby strapped to her back.
I think the girl is wistful. I wonder if she's wondering about her future, like me.
Her makeup is better done than mine is and she looks sad.
I wonder what secrets lie beneath her elegantly obscured body.
I remember when I was Orthodox- we were parallel lines.
I sneak a look at her hijab. I wonder if she looks at my hair.
I notice two rings, a diamond and a gold, on her left hand.
She follows my gaze, twitches her fingers nervously and moves her hand.
I wonder how he treats her. Is she afraid of him? Is she sad?
She looks sad. I want to ask her what's wrong.
Does she speak Hebrew? Maybe. Probably not. Maybe.
I want to at least meet her eyes and smile,
So she knows someone noticed,
But my eyes flit and dart away every time I try,
And all I can see is the hate that's been wedged between us since the 20's.
She can't be much older than me, I think as she takes out an Iphone
In a bright pink case, a twin to the one I'd checked in its turquoise case
About 30 seconds ago. We get off at the same stop.
She waits for a transfer and I start walking to school.
I will never see her again, but I hope that maybe our future daughters
Will be able to smile at each other on a crowded bus, and maybe even be friends.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 2:54 AM UTC
Is it just me?
Or do people not notice
Going to a crowded place
Different aromas wafting,
Emanating around you
They just ignore the sights
Painting their own pictures,
Telling their own stories
Colors invading your personal space
Encompassing you
With a foreign feeling
That creates its own thoughts
In your mind, sprouting
Like trees at the park
Pine needles softly tumbling onto your arms
Tickling each one as it flies away
From its home in the trees
Like a baby bird
Just old enough
For mommy to think he's independent
And there he goes, coasting downward
Until he haphazardly brings himself up
Not a foot from your face
And for a second
Those flapping wings
Sweep up pollen into your nose
Before it jets away
Where? The sky's the limit
But he'll go somewhere populated
Maybe someplace he can fly
Fly like a plane in an airport
Disgruntled passengers hustling
To their respective flights
To go on vacation,
Make it to a meeting, among a plethora of things
Their eyes on the screen of their iphone more than the world around them
All of them, ignorant to their environment
Almost as if they've never seen it before
Like the baby bird that was in front of your face
But how did you see those wings
But those thousands of people didnt
It's because they were too busy tagging
That tweet that wasn't finished
So don't ever feel like just walking
And watching birds
Means you're not doing what you should do
Because those people sitting in the airport
Are missing so much more than you
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
This is to all those misfits
To the Romeo car-washing in Inglewood inlets
To the Hippy selling crystals on the Venice boardwalk
The Magician swallowing 8-balls at the Huntington Beach peer
The Rapper selling CDs in the Ranch Market parking lot
The **** tatting in a makeshift garage
The Poet slinging chapbooks at cafes and rec centers…
Not androids pontificating from lecterns
But grimy roots burrowing deep
Seismic rumblings toppling down
Insured ivory towers
Smashing pilled-paradigms beneath Docs
Hustling and slinging
In the forbidden outshacks of civilization
In tents, over barbed-wire, beside shards
Desperate and burning
For neither Truth or Beauty
But for LIFE
They do not tap wrists
No, they thump chests
To feel it beat
To feel it rage
For fugitive fugues
For new eternities
They embrace
********** romance
Graveyard necromance
The holy hunger for change
Defying commercials and charts
Shivering and howling on streets
Waging guerrilla war
Liberating cubicled-hearts
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 8:20 PM UTC
And today i got to feel u back again.
Read my old Poem, I wrote for you,
When i was in pain.
Never knew, you would be the one
Who actually read my black diary that day
lines you wrote on pages to next pages
u got me, i got you tooo
My dopamine got Lit up for you in that way.
One movie date and two night-outs with no talks in our whole friendship at all
3 years knowing you as a hip hop producer
i really felt your production was different
Those beats are just Wow.
"Insane" - His name all that matters.
Both hustling for music as career
i saw hardworking stupid kid
i wana never let you ever ever suffer.
Trance lover me,
Getting Rapped up Altitudes Of love
relaxing my mind when we grind
With music we both breathe-in
No lovestuff to waste our time...
And soo...
I hold back my pampering child
Oh heaven! Its all Right
"BUT"
These second thoughts still remain the same
i realized my love is true for you
Its ******* Insane!!!
Will i be marrying you or not
I still get those Second Thoughts.
Aug 20, 2023
Aug 20, 2023 at 4:09 AM UTC
Look at him twitching
You know he's tweaking
His jaw swinging back and forth
But there's no speaking
See's something down
In the carpet twinkling
He gets all excited
You know what he's thinking
Anything he finds
He's going to be smoking
I wouldn't be laughing
Because he ain't joking
Down there for hours
Refusing to fail
Doesn't even slow down
After smoking toenail
Smokes up almost
All that he finds
He hears a noise
Now he's peeking through the blinds
He's been smoking too long
And he's up all night
Doesn't have a job
But that's alright
He's finds a dumpster
And without any warning
He's dives in searching
Til the early morning
That's just the life
Of a tweaker you see
Always out hustling
To get his **** for free
If you see him at night
Approach with caution
He's got a stink about him
Because ain't been washing
Picking at his face
Til his sores are bleeding
A light and a mirror
Is all he's needing
He finally got busted
Now he's on parole
Has to hide his drugs
Up in his ********
It's a shame, but that's the way
A tweaker gets by in the world today
His family don't want him
And he don't have many friends
His life is cut short
And that's how it ends
Everybody knows him
But no one knows his name
They just refer to him
As "That dope smoking Lame"
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
Yes, ear hustlers exist.
They at home, at work, and even at church.
Instead of concentrating on themselves.
They seem to be concentrating on your conversation.
What little bit they hear?
Has now became a blown up story.
With more added details than they ever know.
That's how the ear hustling stories goes.
One small detail that they came in the middle of has destroyed many relationships.
What makes us get involved in things not related to them?
Is the oldest question to ever be asked.
Ear hustling in school.
Ear hustling in the homeroom.
Makes you know that many are concern with you.
What rumor that is spread?
Never has that much truth within it.
Maybe a half percentage if at all.
Oh, the rumor mill won't ever fade.
Some people lives to talk about people they do and don't know.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 8:21 AM UTC
This is the last time I write about ships; the mighty seafarer, clasping in the deep. The last time the esoteric tides capriciously change their erratic minds, left torn between rousing up to fight and solemnly crawling into the shapeless night. I’ll haul, I’ll haul. Outward bound, I’ll haul away from the safety of the buoy, through a thousand spiralling knots, batten aground and set anchor upon the recondite bay. I’ll avast the journeys where the compass takes an unprompted turn, where celestial proves consort to nautical woes, awoke awash amidst the darkened shallows.
This is the last time I go back and fill vast depths, bearing right, then left, across the beating breadth. This is the last ring of brash audacity resonating in chime with the gull’s hooded pride, the last of the salt and sway commandeering the longitude of each tumultuous ride. I’ll roll, I’ll roll. Hanging on behind, I’ll roll with the salted souls of Nelson and Hook as they furl and collide, hand over fist, drawing the curtains from their chariot’s majestic height. I’ll gybe and set back to sail, quarrel with the rushing sands, and grace every fractured notion that tooth and nail can siege the devil’s rest and forge currents capable of hustling both vessel and man.
This is the last of the gallant endeavours, set adrift from buccaneer’s voyage to a solitary pulse at the end of storm’s tether. This is the last stern embrace of Poseidon’s harrowing howls, the last of the rapturous applause mordant as it rises and swirls, the last time I wrestle away from his scaly hold. This is the last time I change tack and set course into the path of the sound, where finally, the tides settled
I’ll release control of the helm.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
Success ***** as they say,
hellishly. She's a rich little
seductress who's certainly sensational
at blowing a man's brains out.
I know. She had her teeth into me.
I can smile now, but for a while
I couldn't get enough. She was hot stuff,
that ***** goddess, success.
I was a real sucker for her charms
when she came greasing up.
I really got into the groove
when she pulled me off to the gravy train
where we gobbled down every drop.
I tell you, I couldn't stop.
What a succulent princess she is,
that ***** goddess, success.
But after it had all blown over
and she was hanging out with other guys,
I had a few days when my eyes weren't glazed.
Maybe she was a bit of a ***** actually,
always hustling for more.
Attractive to woo, but really, she *******
them, always pushing to score,
that ***** goddess, success.
I met her again the other day,
and she ran her tongue over her lips. Jeez.
I nearly went weak at the knees.
But we're only old friends now,
and I'm over her disease. So I wasn't desperate to please
her. She's such a terrible tease. She wriggled her assets
but I didn't ask her to come again,
that ***** goddess, success.
Mike T Minehan
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 12:56 AM UTC
**** and chips
buried in the bass-line
All shaken heads tossed
listening to the misadventures of a shit-talker
Her lips taught and dry
sporting a second skin of ripped denim
Thick eyelashes caked in spiderwebs
Hustling on doc martens
crunching teeth beneath toes
Ankles taught with leather
A pretty ***** touched
like flowers dipped in chalk
stuck in choke it down memories
Quietly screaming
look for me
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
Now,
We are mellow.
Having spent the evening exploring the threads of friendship.
That had come adrift of warp, weft and weave.
Time and distance had
silks, snag-tagged-torn,
on the bustling-busy,
hectic-hustling of work
and family.
Teasing-taunt,
needle-gnawing,
small, gap-rip-rents
in the snug comforter
that is... the wonder of us.
Us, so many secrets woven. So many, nights of tissues and sobbing tears.
Darning in daring exploits. Cutting away knotted,
fear-angry-scream-fighting feuds.
Cutting work, for days of delight and nights of desperate yearning.
We used anything at hand, rough wools, pieces of string and twines.
To weave a blanket,
to hide us from life's storms.
We were,
so young, so strong, recklessly-brash,
stupidly-joyous
and braveheart-fools.
And now, time and age,
has softened our work. Felted and fuse-melded,
the fibres into a beautiful entity.
That we store-save in the heart's cupboard,
of special and precious things.
It is an heirloom of sorts.
We bring it out,with occasional, humble-grace,
to be dandled and stroked with reverence.
Caressed and cossetted are our memories held within the abstract weave.
We are the dwindling
of a youthful exuberance
flung-thrown-heaved
to the wild winds.
So now, we are grateful to be curator-custodians of the retrospective nature
as we augment-append
and reiterate-repair.
A new thread here,
now,
embellish-embroider,embed
and tatt-stitch.
My son and your twin girls, squeezed, splashing
into your tiny bathtub
big-grin-giggling in the gurgling water.
Our future, here and now,
is the brightest of silks,
Our past, mellow and yielding in,
the luminent opulence,
angelically-asleep in,
the other room.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 6:30 AM UTC
With a "STARTLED" Jolt at my breakfast table !! The Headlines SCREAMED out at Me,,,,, "F A V O R S* TO BE SHUTTERED " This was a Bit-Much I thought. "FAVORS" was to be closed for good and no one even had the Gall to call and tell Me ! "ME" the Very FIRST customer and the most steady since the Major Grand Opening>> ten years ago_____"TO THE DAY" ! To the Day?? GOD, that sure seems strange, What are the odds of that happening, I Pondered? While Delaying Pondering, I decided to read the OBITUARY regarding FAVORS. Hmmmm, , Let's see, You've got to be kidding, they are taking out the tables , My Favorite FIRST. And my Goodness, even the Wine, wonder if I got the last bottle of that 1953 Fracioussa ?? A taste of such Mellowness and lingering Kindness ! Kindness surely isn't what has caused the DEMISE of
FAVORS" . Demise of such a GRAND Place "Was-Not" left to chance, someone has deliberately caused this Tragic End of Such Magnificance ! A TEAR IS ABOUT TO "WET" the page NOW ___,but___the phone rings and my thoughts are brought to it. It is a Mysterious call, some strange Voice, Telling Me to *HURRY on down to "FAVORS"___"RIGHT-NOW" !! Now?? "YES-NOW" !!So, on to FAVORS, to watch them take out the tables, and yes take out the wine of that favorite place of Mine!! As I step out of my CRAFT and onto the MONOLINE, the Hustling, bustling of the crowds, reminds me of the longing of that "FAVORITE PLACE OF MINE"
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 4:50 AM UTC
Former trier turned friar
Storming rage behind fryers
World of potential in the inner mental
Work ethic impeccable
Work conditions unethical
Nine hours no lunch or break
Better pump the brakes and pull stake
Time to get a slice of thine own pie
Reach nirvana prime and let the soul fly
Soar above money traps and get the bag
Lest your future gets clicky clacked
And your happiness capped
Spinning poverty’s vicious cycle
Grinning sharks made me their disciple
Life is trifling when your blood leaves
Heat stifling as the done deed
Has you on your knees begging
Lord have mercy please
Escape away from hate
And let love into your heart
Then and only then will you start
To understand the holy ghost
That is you
And the apostles that are your friends
Ride or die to the end
This ain’t no game of let’s pretend
It’s real life
Your one shot to drip and ball
So don’t let it slip by
Or you’ll fall before you walk, y'all.
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 4:17 PM UTC