Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"ike" poems
.                                                           Like                             LikeLikeLike                           Like  Like  Like                         L ike  L ike  L ike                            Like Like Like                            Like Like Like                            Like Like Like                            Like Like Like                            Like Like Like                            Like Like Like                            Like Like Like                            Like Like Like                            Like Like Like                            Like Like Like                            Like Like Like               Like Like                  Like Like          Like Like Like          Like Like  Like           LikeLikeLike            LikeLike Like              Like Like                    Like Like
0
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC
Like ****
T hough I know the truth H urt still lingers in my breath E mptying out into the street M other to none, sister to one, daughter to two O nly one slight problem, I want to be alone with N othing to bother me, no one to disrupt my S leepless nightmares, taunting day dreams T onight I shall not rest until I find a way to E nd these thoughts, but I will never R est easy, not until I learn the meaning of peace W hat have I become anyway? I s this liar, this thief, this ****** T he person I've always wanted to H onor with the title of my name? I s this black hole swirling inside my chest N othing more than a shell of a human being? W hy do I always end up asking the same questions? I may never really know who I am L ike most drifters and loners and L osers, I may never learn to love myself N othing is worse than not knowing E verything there is to know about oneself, it's V ery unsettling, earth shattering, words don't E ven make sense, strung together in R epetitious strings, dangling from the ceiling S till, a part of me, a very small part U nderstands that my life isn't really about B ecoming who I'm meant to be S ometimes, it's about just learning to I dentify with the face in the mirror, ignoring the D enial that seeps through my heart, I know that E veryone thinks I've lost my head. Well, maybe I have..
0
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 3:21 PM UTC
The Monster (Acrostic)
Morning smells of Lilacs rapture me, Taking me back to Kinderhooks Chatham Street….June 21st 1961……not a cloud in the sky. Lying in bed I open my eyes to the hum of a window fan. And in the distance I hear a Hudson River barge blast its horn. This moment in time, well it brings tears to my eyes. Eleven years old, brown hair, hazel eyes, a toothy smile, Grins in the mirror, hoping to find a whisker or two… My cat Oscar sits there on the sink purring out his contentment. “Oscar” I say, “today I leave for the Freedom Farm” The Freedom Farm is the one place where I’m free to be me Without the fear of a negative comment or a boot in my *** I climb aboard the Greyhound bus with suitcase in hand, And looking down at Mom and Dad....I wave…. So Long Suckers!!               Walton NY, June 22nd, Dunk Hill Road, the smell of cow **** The land of Milk and Honey, Fields of four leaf clovers and 10’ corn stalks. It was here that all my friends lived, Shorty the horse, Mrs Blue the Holstein,                                                                               And there was Uncle Ike, Aunt Minnie and 9 Cousins. I loved them all! On this little dairy farm……my potential was unlimited, Uncle Ike taught me to drive the Tractor, water the heifers,   Milk the cows, shovel **** spread manure and have some **** fun! Hell Uncle Ike even let me try a piece of his plug tobacco... (Note to self…Just say No Thanks next time) A summer filled with character building experiences and an eight year olds understanding of work ethic. But we still had plenty of time for fun and cousin bonding. My Cousin Tom taught me to ride the cows and honed my spitting skills. And in my downtime I'd perfect the finer points of armpit farting, Four weeks of heaven on earth where nothing was impossible. *Once you work on a farm you get dirt in your shoes. And when you get dirt in your shoes, you can never get it out!"
0
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 4:50 PM UTC
The Freedom Farm
Morning smells of Lilacs rapture me, Taking me back to Kinderhooks Chatham Street….June 21st 1961……not a cloud in the sky. Lying in bed I open my eyes to the hum of a window fan. And in the distance I hear a Hudson River barge blast its horn. This moment in time, well it brings tears to my eyes. Eleven years old, brown hair, hazel eyes, a toothy smile, Grins in the mirror, hoping to find a whisker or two… My cat Oscar sits there on the sink purring out his contentment. “Oscar” I say, “today I leave for the Freedom Farm” The Freedom Farm is the one place where I’m free to be me Without the fear of a negative comment or a boot in my *** I climb aboard the Greyhound bus with suitcase in hand, And looking down at Mom and Dad....I wave…. So Long Suckers!!               Walton NY, June 22nd, Dunk Hill Road, the smell of cow **** The land of Milk and Honey, Fields of four leaf clovers and 10’ corn stalks. It was here that all my friends lived, Shorty the horse, Mrs Blue the Holstein,                                                                               And there was Uncle Ike, Aunt Minnie and 9 Cousins. I loved them all! On this little dairy farm……my potential was unlimited, Uncle Ike taught me to drive the Tractor, water the heifers,   Milk the cows, shovel **** spread manure and have some **** fun! Hell Uncle Ike even let me try a piece of his plug tobacco... (Note to self…Just say No Thanks next time) A summer filled with character building experiences and an eight year olds understanding of work ethic. But we still had plenty of time for fun and cousin bonding. My Cousin Tom taught me to ride the cows and honed my spitting skills. And in my downtime I'd perfect the finer points of armpit farting, Four weeks of heaven on earth where nothing was impossible. *Once you work on a farm you get dirt in your shoes. And when you get dirt in your shoes, you can never get it out!"
Continue reading...
26
Dance if you wanna.. dance the night away dress like ya mean it.. dance the night away boogy on the boogy ..day and day after day dance dance dance feeling so so right boogie boogie woogie dancing to the right sing like a superstar ...driving in ya car sing to the beat ...tapping down your street hum hum didi dum ..words dont know the means but dance if ya wanna ..dance the night away dance dance dance feeling so so right boogie boogie woogie dancing to the right dressing ike ya dad ..laughing on the beer not like ya lad ..cool and pierced his ear hat ..not cap you say ..cos that aint right round here but dance if ya wanna ...dance the night away dance dance dance feeling so so right boogie boogie woogie dancing to the right dance .....dance .....dance !!!
0
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 3:21 AM UTC
Dance ...dance ..dance
steel oil engineering labor converge round a Rocket 88 dead man’s curve prescient precocious capitalists concoct Edsels Vegas Chevelles leaping Impalas leak oil staining every American driveway Pintos chase Gremlins across The Great Plains gassing up at Rt 66 fillin stations scramblin Midnight Ramblers detour to take refuge with Goats in Big Sky Indian garages 440 Mustangs nip 327 Stingrays and Mach IV Cobras get snake bit by Dart wielding Mopar muscle cars long fins chrome bumpers and round fenders still get bent in Havana but Motor City is broke nations outta gas whole **** country needs an overhaul Ike Turner/Jackie Brenston: Rocket 88 Nelson Riddle: Route 66 7/19/13 Oakland jbm
0
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
Detroit
'let's walk to the ocean' said the passing clown to the mime 'it's quite a long way' expressed the mime 'yes it is?' the clown replied mime frowned and they began walking... clown in his big floppy red shoes mime improvising as he went at the edge of town they ran into a juggler on the corner trying to pick up a few coins in his cup clown asked the juggler if he'd care to join them in their walk to the ocean juggler said 'why not, things are kind of up in the air for me right now' they headed west toward the coast clown had 5 boxes of Mike and Ikes...every flavor in his red scarf on a stick mime had plenty of slim jims this would keep them fed until they reached their destination several hours into their odyssey a storm approached a lone well drawn pine provided refuge until the storm cleared as well as a snack and chance to learn of each other's journey to this point clown had done many things throughout his life in pursuit of love, home and family but he had failed in his search for a life he always dreamed of and now this face of heavy make-up and big red nose would hide the fact that he lived a life of constant sadness mime had been a singer and worked for years to perfect his craft... dreamed of making it to the big stage but he refused to sing what they wanted him to sing and even though he had amazing talent, he was refused time and time again becoming a mime would mean he'd never be reminded of the beautiful voice he possessed juggler was a star pitcher known for his amazing fastball when he graduated college and was only days from signing a contract with the Yankees when a car accident damaged his shoulder so severely he lost his fastball he juggles to keep his arm in shape in case his fastball ever returns juggler asked clown why they were headed to the beach mime was interested as well and produced the perfect look of inquiry clown stood up...tossed the red scarf on a stick full of Mike & Ike's over his shoulder, brushed himself off and replied... 'why not?'
0
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 6:49 PM UTC
the clown, the mime and the juggler
'let's walk to the ocean' said the passing clown to the mime 'it's quite a long way' expressed the mime 'yes it is?' the clown replied mime frowned and they began walking... clown in his big floppy red shoes mime improvising as he went at the edge of town they ran into a juggler on the corner trying to pick up a few coins in his cup clown asked the juggler if he'd care to join them in their walk to the ocean juggler said 'why not, things are kind of up in the air for me right now' they headed west toward the coast clown had 5 boxes of Mike and Ikes...every flavor in his red scarf on a stick mime had plenty of slim jims this would keep them fed until they reached their destination several hours into their odyssey a storm approached a lone well drawn pine provided refuge until the storm cleared as well as a snack and chance to learn of each other's journey to this point clown had done many things throughout his life in pursuit of love, home and family but he had failed in his search for a life he always dreamed of and now this face of heavy make-up and big red nose would hide the fact that he lived a life of constant sadness mime had been a singer and worked for years to perfect his craft... dreamed of making it to the big stage but he refused to sing what they wanted him to sing and even though he had amazing talent, he was refused time and time again becoming a mime would mean he'd never be reminded of the beautiful voice he possessed juggler was a star pitcher known for his amazing fastball when he graduated college and was only days from signing a contract with the Yankees when a car accident damaged his shoulder so severely he lost his fastball he juggles to keep his arm in shape in case his fastball ever returns juggler asked clown why they were headed to the beach mime was interested as well and produced the perfect look of inquiry clown stood up...tossed the red scarf on a stick full of Mike & Ike's over his shoulder, brushed himself off and replied... 'why not?'
Continue reading...
41
We go together like Digestives dipped in tea. Your girlfriend and a hike. A sting and a bee. I love you like Dogs love chasing postmen. Halfords love a bike. Teachers love red pen. I need you like Meerkats need you to go to a different website. Aunt Josephine needed Ike. Ghosts need to fright. In summary, then, We go together like I love you like I need you like Really poor metaphors. A reference to popular culture. An ironic rhyme scheme and rhythm that vanishes towards the end. Don’t you love a flirt, darling?
0
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
Let's Write a Love Poem
*We lose so much talent to addiction Some of you may not care, but I do This is my tribute to them* **Alan Wilson Canned Heat Jimi Hendrix The Jimi Hendrix Experience Janis Joplin Jim Morrison The Doors Brian Cole The Association Billy Murcia New York Dolls Danny Whitten Crazy Horse Gram Parsons The Stooges Gary Thain Uriah Heep Elvis Presley Gregory Herbert Blood, Sweat & Tears Keith Moon The Who Sid Vicious *** Pistols Lowell George Little Feat Jimmy McCulloch Wings John Bonham Led Zeppelin Darby Crash Germs James Honeyman-Scott Pretenders Pete Farndon Pretenders Paul Gardiner Tubeway Army Gary Holton Heavy Metal Kids Phil Lynott Thin Lizzy Andrew Wood Mother Love Bone Brent Mydland Grateful Dead Steve Clark Def Leppard Johnny Thunders New York Dolls David Ruffin The Temptations Kristen Pfaff Hole Shannon Hoon Blind Melon Bradley Nowell Sublime John Kahn Jerry Garcia Band Jonathan Melvoin The Smashing Pumpkins Billy Mackenzie Associates West Arkeen The Outpatience Nick Traina Link 80 John Baker Saunders Mad Season Bobby Sheehan Blues Traveler Wes Berggren Tripping Daisy Allen Woody The Allman Brothers Band Carl Crack Atari Teenage Riot Layne Staley Alice in Chains/Mad Seasons Kurt Cobain Nirvana Dee Dee Ramones Robbin Crosby Ratt John Entwistle The Who Howie Epstein Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Jeremy Michael Ward De Facto Tim Hemensley GOD Dave Schulthise The Dead Milkmen Rick James Kevin DuBrow Quiet Riot Ike Turner Gidget Gein Marilyn Manson Jay Bennett Wilco Michael Jackson The Rev Avenged Sevenfold Paul Gray Slipknot Mike Starr Alice in Chains Amy Winehouse** *We are not bad people, we just have bad ways Yet, not many understand*
0
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Forgotten and Appriciated
*We lose so much talent to addiction Some of you may not care, but I do This is my tribute to them* **Alan Wilson Canned Heat Jimi Hendrix The Jimi Hendrix Experience Janis Joplin Jim Morrison The Doors Brian Cole The Association Billy Murcia New York Dolls Danny Whitten Crazy Horse Gram Parsons The Stooges Gary Thain Uriah Heep Elvis Presley Gregory Herbert Blood, Sweat & Tears Keith Moon The Who Sid Vicious *** Pistols Lowell George Little Feat Jimmy McCulloch Wings John Bonham Led Zeppelin Darby Crash Germs James Honeyman-Scott Pretenders Pete Farndon Pretenders Paul Gardiner Tubeway Army Gary Holton Heavy Metal Kids Phil Lynott Thin Lizzy Andrew Wood Mother Love Bone Brent Mydland Grateful Dead Steve Clark Def Leppard Johnny Thunders New York Dolls David Ruffin The Temptations Kristen Pfaff Hole Shannon Hoon Blind Melon Bradley Nowell Sublime John Kahn Jerry Garcia Band Jonathan Melvoin The Smashing Pumpkins Billy Mackenzie Associates West Arkeen The Outpatience Nick Traina Link 80 John Baker Saunders Mad Season Bobby Sheehan Blues Traveler Wes Berggren Tripping Daisy Allen Woody The Allman Brothers Band Carl Crack Atari Teenage Riot Layne Staley Alice in Chains/Mad Seasons Kurt Cobain Nirvana Dee Dee Ramones Robbin Crosby Ratt John Entwistle The Who Howie Epstein Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Jeremy Michael Ward De Facto Tim Hemensley GOD Dave Schulthise The Dead Milkmen Rick James Kevin DuBrow Quiet Riot Ike Turner Gidget Gein Marilyn Manson Jay Bennett Wilco Michael Jackson The Rev Avenged Sevenfold Paul Gray Slipknot Mike Starr Alice in Chains Amy Winehouse** *We are not bad people, we just have bad ways Yet, not many understand*
Continue reading...
117
What foes or friends do we perceive when we connect by chance conceived? Would you care to explain how this is my fault? Pray tell tis Joseph come to his census. Come nigh so late to what truth evinces. Four heed own Lay won knot thin kit sis... Prays got a buff! Fine uh Lee… Coarse sit duhs pour ten dove baa doe mens. Naughty ville purse say! Oar eve in dud ark Om end... Shell Ira Bjorn ease? Orb headers till yore effete? Ike ant aft tub Abe eave oar yew yen owe... Wall oh win knit. Gore Ida head. Yuck use amoeba *** is hint umm eye fall tis zit? Yuck cues amoeba ditz nada tall mite urn toot ache tub lame. Bub I... Hope Joe Ill step pup two wit all Irie lay trill lee dew
0
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
Aisle Of Lane Quit Jah
words hurt. have you ever been stabbed by an adjective or ripped up inside by a verb? how about those adverbs that modify the emptiness we all feel inside? words are a living creature. lurking over the enjambment of the letters, terrorizing those who hear them. and yet; we still use them. pushing us over the edge as they're muttered by those who are not worthy of their power. of their grace. but nouns hurt the worst. razor blades and lemon juice are like an ant to a human compared to nouns. and the only way we can combat these fierce enemies is to not listen. but how can i cover my ears from something i adore? and how can i cover my ears to protect myself from words when i need them? i need them more than Tina needed Ike more than Lindsay Lohan needs coke more than Beyonce needs Jay more than Lucifer needs God to stay alive. And how can I shield myself from words when all I want to do is hear the phrase "everything is going to be okay."
0
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 1:53 AM UTC
a word.
I flip lyrics like tricks breaking bricks with sticks my flow as Good as it gets spitting words until they turn digits mental midgets can't handle my pivots I am dope with a twist a cloud of smoke with no mist I rock the boat and break wrist so many styles I'm the **** rapid flow when I spit I go rabid going inn like I am sic killing the beat and melting the mic in one sec-and my reputation becoming habit I am loving this **** as far as the goat, I go cut throat staying sharper than clips I float while others just gloat and gossip changing topics like top picks I just take it all lite ike optics
0
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
freestyle
Falling down Again, it seems Like no one Listens anymore. It feels like No one's there, everyone's just... Gone. Downward spiral leading me to an Open vein in my life. Wondering why I could Never stop sooner. At last, when all the smoke clears. Night turns to Daylight. Good morning, is Everything I needed To hear. Today, I start myself over again. Not going to Get beaten down so easily anymore, because... Up there, I know you're watching me, and it's you, who Pulls me back together when I fall apart.
0
Aug 23, 2011
Aug 23, 2011 at 11:39 PM UTC
Falling Down And Getting Up (Acrostic)
A chance to speak, Beneath broken sheets, Caught out in moment, Dying deep inside. Evaporate tension, From little or no knowing, Growing up alone, Half loved and half resented. I come to conclusions, Just before my death, Keeping me in memory, Like you always promised, Missing me in silence, No more mourning of past, Of regrets and despairs. Promise me you’ll use what I learnt, Question the decisions of others, Reluctant or not, Stay away from their paths, They only lead you to their futures, Unknowingly you end their second, Valiant but alone, Where you spend life in wandering, Xrayed life, Your future makes up nothing Zorbing inside of your own bubble.
0
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 9:03 AM UTC
Life from A to Z
O peaceful moon, shining gently o'er the fields, In your soft light I see a tree, a hedge, a glistening pond; And the soft night sounds of rustling reeds and swaying boughs Intermingle with the nightly warfare of a million creatures. But hark! From the new housing estate across the park There comes a rather different sound. Through an open window Comes the healthy thwack of flesh on flesh and muffled shrieks of joy As Isaac and Wendy Bumsenfotze indulge themselves un peu. Isaac's got his gasmask on, and his rubber flippers too And (speaking candidly) looks an unattractive proposition Especially now his skinny chest towers o'er his massive ******** All four mighty manly inches of it from tip to curlies. Lying trussed up on their bed, atop its needed rubber sheeting, Lies Sam, their well-trained patient pedigree crossbred donkey, Upon whose good-natured, hirsute, unsuspecting person Nameless atrocities have often been performed in Eros' name. What are they going to do tonight? I bet you'll never guess. Well, Wendy's strapped her ***** on and intends to use it first On Ikey's waiting well-lubricated back end And then it's Sam's turn and ***** the R.S.P.C.A. And while Sam is getting poked by loving Wendy, Old Ike will not be idle: camera-phone in one hand And mail-order sjambok in the other, he'll record Their motions and lacerate them both simultaneously. Underneath his gasmask, Isaac gets a bit sweaty and excited, And once their party's over all three will doze off: A truly lovely scene. But they will be soon by woken by The morning sun glittering on Wendy's cast-off legirons.
0
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 11:45 AM UTC
Donkey Goings On
O peaceful moon, shining gently o'er the fields, In your soft light I see a tree, a hedge, a glistening pond; And the soft night sounds of rustling reeds and swaying boughs Intermingle with the nightly warfare of a million creatures. But hark! From the new housing estate across the park There comes a rather different sound. Through an open window Comes the healthy thwack of flesh on flesh and muffled shrieks of joy As Isaac and Wendy Bumsenfotze indulge themselves un peu. Isaac's got his gasmask on, and his rubber flippers too And (speaking candidly) looks an unattractive proposition Especially now his skinny chest towers o'er his massive ******** All four mighty manly inches of it from tip to curlies. Lying trussed up on their bed, atop its needed rubber sheeting, Lies Sam, their well-trained patient pedigree crossbred donkey, Upon whose good-natured, hirsute, unsuspecting person Nameless atrocities have often been performed in Eros' name. What are they going to do tonight? I bet you'll never guess. Well, Wendy's strapped her ***** on and intends to use it first On Ikey's waiting well-lubricated back end And then it's Sam's turn and ***** the R.S.P.C.A. And while Sam is getting poked by loving Wendy, Old Ike will not be idle: camera-phone in one hand And mail-order sjambok in the other, he'll record Their motions and lacerate them both simultaneously. Underneath his gasmask, Isaac gets a bit sweaty and excited, And once their party's over all three will doze off: A truly lovely scene. But they will be soon by woken by The morning sun glittering on Wendy's cast-off legirons.
Continue reading...
28
Ditch ewe sea Mai poem? Eye sore year phlegm on yootoob! Knot of ill my mean, Ice awe yore fitty oh on yewtwoob! No won you sis Phil mini moor... Aisle Ike did the Bell eve id Dio. **** wear wuss aye at? Cuss ein owe fur sheer. God Knowed out debt Hugh phlegmed me giddy Nth arc are! Wail? Watt Chew say a bow to that? Weight. Whole Don. Dead Yew sin sir writ? Sense err meow tough fit? High share open aught! Bay bee! Hi muss tar!!!
0
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
Yessed Ear
I want to breath Like when I was a child Oh, how I remember Very much so, how much fun It was Every day was ignorant bliss as I smiled Yesterday was they day I forgot how to breathe Over and over again I age faster as I remember Under the stars I fade, unable to breathe So now I regress Over and over I wonder, where the time went my friend Maybe I can grab a couple of galaxies and feed them to my infant Uh, I don’t think she’d like it though, heh Can you give me some advice, considering you’re over 60? How do you still vibrate like the new day and the sound of heaven in the morning? I don’t understand your method Think about it? Hey, that’s hard when all I think about is my future… Under the stars, now Running to catch the comets flitting forward forever. Thank you So much, I’m serious.
0
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 1:53 PM UTC
I love you so much, it hurts.
Every word you say is precious dear, Unfortunately, we can't be together, we're not even peers, Like a balloon, you bring my heart up high, You bring it up, up, up into the sky, Not a single imperfection could replace you, Not a single angel could see you through.
0
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
inception
She was like a rainbow But yet so grey She was full of diseased love But as beautiful as a dove Full of festerous denial Tainted by a guy named Kyle What the hell did he do He took away her color One after another
0
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
..Colorless Love..
Seven days straight, the sun rolls up,always from the same side of town and just the same way it gives up and lays down The same buses run on the same old routes. No letup. So dream a dream. Next day,instant replay. Know what ? I know the  drill Sunday.is like Halloween, Rubber faces and trick or treat with Reverend Ike. Fire and brimstone. Please turn down ya cell phones.Pass the plate. payola to heaven's gate. Monday.Back on the grind, Blood,sweat and tears. Grinding mental gears.Pop the clutch,Earn so little Pay so much. Tuesday.? just locked in. The Lotto is calling, cant win if ya dont play. Teasin me bout easy street. Gimme my lump sum Then watch me fly. Keep missin me with that later, greater noise. Keep it real son. Wednesday. Looking of into the sunset now.All ****** up getting up for the down-stroke.Sweat  of my brow. Feel me NOW ? Take a deep breath blow out slow. If you dont tell it then the devil wont know. Thursday. Gettin closer to shore,Go for your backstroke cause yer starting to fade.  In through the mouth and out through the nose focus your gaze on the circling crows? Crows ? Friday. Ah snap yer ends came up short. Tax man just waxin yer *** Ghoulish?. Foolish. Some ends might not meet. Sat-Day. Not so fat day. Pullin pocket lint by 6.PM.Chump changin. is changin your mind. Gettin glimpses of stressin the old bump and grind On Moanday. **** expletive deleted. Stun-day. Hungday? Rake  your sh%@t in a pile day ? No Doubt Assed out. Hello... Monday.
0
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC
Takin Shorts
Seven days straight, the sun rolls up,always from the same side of town and just the same way it gives up and lays down The same buses run on the same old routes. No letup. So dream a dream. Next day,instant replay. Know what ? I know the  drill Sunday.is like Halloween, Rubber faces and trick or treat with Reverend Ike. Fire and brimstone. Please turn down ya cell phones.Pass the plate. payola to heaven's gate. Monday.Back on the grind, Blood,sweat and tears. Grinding mental gears.Pop the clutch,Earn so little Pay so much. Tuesday.? just locked in. The Lotto is calling, cant win if ya dont play. Teasin me bout easy street. Gimme my lump sum Then watch me fly. Keep missin me with that later, greater noise. Keep it real son. Wednesday. Looking of into the sunset now.All ****** up getting up for the down-stroke.Sweat  of my brow. Feel me NOW ? Take a deep breath blow out slow. If you dont tell it then the devil wont know. Thursday. Gettin closer to shore,Go for your backstroke cause yer starting to fade.  In through the mouth and out through the nose focus your gaze on the circling crows? Crows ? Friday. Ah snap yer ends came up short. Tax man just waxin yer *** Ghoulish?. Foolish. Some ends might not meet. Sat-Day. Not so fat day. Pullin pocket lint by 6.PM.Chump changin. is changin your mind. Gettin glimpses of stressin the old bump and grind On Moanday. **** expletive deleted. Stun-day. Hungday? Rake  your sh%@t in a pile day ? No Doubt Assed out. Hello... Monday.
Continue reading...
32
written with Mohamed Nasir please check him out he is such a talented peot As I was young running underneath the shower Droplets speckling my face Ike water freckles I ran across the watery lane in the fountain of My youth I ran naked wet under the sprinkler's arches Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! I shouted Joyfully as Archimedes found truth and naked He ran down the street of Athens Eurica! Eurica! Eurica! He shouted Then I heard someone call my name And shake me up "Get up," my mother said "You wet your bed again," she said I was dreaming in my wet dreams again
0
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 10:50 PM UTC
Fountain of Youth
Like everything in this world wounds Around the thought of us, Whether pain and touch, or just Sweet serendipitous moments we shared. All will be stored inside my little mind, Never will it be erased, and I know troubles will come but never will Denying you, my love, be in my vocabulary. Like all the stars, in rainbow colours hidden Under and over thousands of horizons meeting Seemed nothing, beside you, dear, I will forever feel Heavenly around our intertwined bodies, and kisses.
0
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
undeniably true love
Yesterday I wrote a poem about Ike You see; Ike made me go Weak in the knees Even though His scent made me sneeze But that's just minor things Coz you see His heart was hotter than warm He had a sense of humour Greater than Trevor Noah's Ha ha He had a fetish for feet He said he'll buy me a ring For my toe Its a pity though That me & Ike were a fling That only lasted something like 10 minutes Coz he was waiting for his order At a Mike's kitchen counter As his wife took a departure To the rest room near the storeroom To freshen up n put some powder And returned to find me laughing my lungs out As Ike changed his posture And acted like he was the most innocent man on earth S.P Radebe
0
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 4:33 AM UTC
Ike
I feel like everything I do means nothing, like what I say doesn't affect anyone. I feel like walking away from it all, but I just don't want to give up. He used to make my heart fly and feelings soar, but now he only makes me cry. I don't want to give up on all we had, I know we can be so much more. She was my very best friend, someone who I could always confide in. Now she won't even talk to me, and I can't figure out why... I'm trying to make myself happy this time, but everyone else gets mad. It's like what I want doesn't even matter, and what I need isn't relevant. I've spent my life trying to make everyone else happy, and for once I'm trying to do stuff for me. But everyone else is throwing fits, and everyone is ****** at me. I can't make you all happy, I can't make my life make sense. I'm lost and confused and I'm sitting here crying, I'm waiting for someone to come and climb over this wall. Doesn't anyone see the signs? don't you all see me, sitting here, crying, alone. Why don't you try to help me along, what is so wrong with me that I can't do it on my own. I can't make my life make sense anymore, and I'm reaching for the blade. As long as I was clean before, that changed and I can't make it stop. I'm struggling and I'm fighting and I'm crying out, but no one around seems to hear. Please someone just make some sense out of life, please send me some kind of guidence.... I need an Angel
0
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 7:00 PM UTC
I Need An Angel
“What of ‘The Bullet’?” I ask my mother, “is it underwater falling apart, wood unhinged nail by nail?” It rots underwater, more terrified than I of the crashing waves upon the boardwalk.
0
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 5:04 PM UTC
Hurricane Ike
"Some princes don't become kings," That is a very interesting thought And Yesterday's just a day, live For the now-- Rught now, "The Only thing that's ever Stopping me is me-I'll testify; If I die in my sleep Then know my own life was a killer dream." "You only get what you grieve," another great lyric-- Really this album is amazing! One day I'll get to meet these 4 boys from Chicago, You'll see-- And I'll have a nice talk, Laugh, and thank them for what they do! Mania is fantastic and a great poetic aibum! I wonder sometimes, "seems Like the whole **** world went and lost it's mind." Keep dreaming, "real living, fake Tears," keep it real-- know that Everyone goes through bad days, "But the Alcohol never lies."
0
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 12:08 AM UTC
Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea