"implying" poems
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Being bled onto
The landscapes between thighs
Incarcerating women's wombs
Justifying men's genes
Foreigners appropriating
Women's and men's sexualities
Losing the power to be
When changing our roles' long overdue
Gendering our words and attitudes
Man, who taught you to be a chauvinist!
Woman, who taught you to be a *********
Don't put your god in gendered bigotry
Do man's emotions feminize him?
When will women freely carry torches!
What gender do you assign this voice?
What gender do you assign this words?
Will the masses even understand these choices?
Don't worry, my sexuality won't infect you
Criminalizing sexuality
Placing it front and center, implying that's all I am
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Being bled onto
The landscapes between thighs
Graffiti, defiling the masses not high classes
Because men and women of society
Full of stride, take pride, in their gendered hyde
Graffiti, defiling the masses not high classes
Ignored hoods, barrios, countrysides, ghettos, projects
Devouring women's and men's bodies
Younger and younger people falling to HIV/AIDS and STDS
Vaginas receiving the violence, wombs bringing misery
LGBT youth ****** into fire
Lost males (in mental chains) ****** to assert their manhoods
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Full of dangerous chemicals, being sprayed onto
The landscapes between thighs
Attempting to legislate our stories, without warrant
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
His father reminded him of the giddy times,
As if he forgot them.
He does this habitually,
Implying that a lot has changed.
Of course, because today isn't yesterday
And the present isn't the past.
He wishes it was like before.
He can't recognize his son
As if he's wearing a mask.
Grew through adolescence without him
As he put on his mask.
He can't recognize him,
But he'll continue to remind him
That they are
Growing distant,
Without being literally far away,
It seems like it though.
Separated like fission,
And the miles grow and grow.
The true colors faded,
After they were shown.
The underlying tone of it all,
Segregated by a labyrinth of walls.
While we were wearing masks
We couldn't recognize each other,
While we were wearing masks
We couldn't recognize each other anymore.
Growing distant,
Without being literally far away,
It seems like it though.
Separated like fission,
And the miles grow and grow.
He remembers the connection he had with her,
As if she forgot about it.
He speaks of how spending time with her elated him,
Implying that he misses her.
Of course today isn't yesterday
And the present isn't the past,
But he wishes it was like before,
So he asks if they could return to what they once were,
He asks if they could return to what they once were.
They're growing distant
Without being literally far away,
It seems like it though.
Separated like fission,
And the miles grow and grow.
Separated like fission,
And the miles grow and grow,
The miles grow and grow.
It seems like it though.
Growing distant,
And the miles grow and grow,
The miles grow and grow,
Growing distant.
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
(Originally written 12/1/10,
Revised 9/23/14)
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
"you throw like a girl"
"you run like a girl"
i'm not belittled nor ashamed by this comment
as it show us that men and boys will repent
i am not implying that girls and women do not diminish theirself
but I am telling you we will fight in good and bad health
do you know what G. I.R.L stands for?
g is for Glamorous, I is for intelligent, r is for respected and l is for lifeform
so if I throw like a girl I'm honored and so should you.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
Like a black hole, you **** me in.
My curiosity pulls me leads me, just to find out where i might end up.
Even though i will regret it, i can't help hoping you will take me somewhere i've been hoping for.
My nine lives are running thin, so tell me why i still jump from my highest peak?
The ones I love warn me to steer clear,
but there is something irresistibly charming about you,
whispering in my ear to throw myself into unpredictable nothing-ness
Almost implying my life will feel incomplete if i don't take this chance
Something always brings me back to you,
it never takes to long.
No matter what i say or do,
Your vacuum stills makes its way back into my universe.
Set me free, leave me be.
I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.
You hold me without touch
You keep me without chains.
This blackhole will be the death of me.
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 12:10 PM UTC
Sensual pleasures
I am restricted by words
Asking to be noticed
Begging to be heard
A push from the air
So you feel its constant hug
So often we brace a shoulder
To avoid the wind's tug
Motion to falsify life
Implying breath without lungs
Moving whip of the dead
That slapped til it stung
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
/ *because such examples have to, have to(!) be perpetuated, reiterated, perpetuated, reiterated... these... "things"... these minor quests of establishing being - against, the authoritarian rule of the democracy of beings.*
you don't shout,
you don't disturb the "social", "peace",
of proverbial english society...
nope...
shouting does not good,
akin to:
silent water eats
away at the shorelines...
what you do...
is akin to what birds do...
you don't gnash your teeth:
i.e. clench them molars...
gnashing means clenching
your molars -
a gnashing a gnarling,
a pestle & mortar scenario...
no...
no shouting...
silent movie era of hollywood
translated...
you... simply... chatter...
you strike incissor teeth against
each other... crafting a lightling storm
like crackling sound,
like corn flakes...
in a bowl of milk...
you... chatter...
inspiration? birds...
bird calls...
you... chatter...
mind you, unlike the english,
looking into my mouth...
the jaw should fit within the confines
of the skull...
the upper set of teeth
should accommodate the jaw's
line of teeth...
but you simply... chatter...
which is embodied by attempting
to take a phantom bite at "something"...
you...
echo:
central incisors against
the lateral incisors...
you subsequently: chatter (χατερ)...
i missed the eta (η): given that i also
missed the excess of tau - in what isn't,
a translation - other than a phonetic
equivalent of putting on sunglasses...
because, when your neighbour,
tells you... that you can't smoke...
in your own home, perched on a windowsill,
out of the window,
implying that the smoke is
vacuumed into his bedroom?
and somehow, the law,
and the air, we share, is somehow his,
and his alone?
and i can't do, what he can,
within the confines of his property?
NOW WE HAVE A PROPER SHITSHOW!
some english are ******* backward
hardly insulting the ****** community,
with some succumbing to prosopagnosia,
while some (notably down syndrome)
actually having a memory capacity...
that curious look and a familiar expression
waiting for a smile...
i basically live next to a mental illness
example, par uno...
and englishman who "thinks"
he's king, rather than a convenient
citizen...
****** won't budge...
guess all i'm equipped with is
my chatter remedy;
and english society still "thinks"
that i'm the "mad" one.
- because it's like...
how can you dictate, what someone can,
or cannot do, on their property?!
like smoking a cigarette,
perched on a windowsill, outside a window,
with the accusation:
the smoke is coming into my bedroom...
oh right...
so...
erm...
you own the dynamic of air
to suggest such a bias?
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 11:30 AM UTC
Our life puts the "Sh..." back in
"Chicago."
This pulse could race, slow to a dull thud or stop and curdle like the residents of a container of milk who've been left out, and still you will never love me.
Gobs of waiter phlegm we never detect in our bowls of soup and teapots beg our forgiveness and howl for our affection, and are invisible.
But where is the crime in not loving
when we are not loved?
How could there be a crime in not loving,
when we are loved poorly?
Loved so poorly we cannot afford
to ask ourselves where is the crime,
thus implying innocence.
We put the "mice" back in
"monogamous."
tip-toeing, silent but for mere squeaks, nearly inaudible whispers,
furtive looks, and how we run away, screaming,
or, like mice and Chicagoans all, we freeze.
Aquiver with fear, iced up in the Polar Vortex, hands raised in the policeman's spotlight.
But where is the crime in not loving
when you are not loved, or loved poorly?
Loved so poorly we cannot afford to stand up straight,
We scurry close to building walls,
trying not to be seen or see each other as we curse our fate.
Where is the crime in not loving those whom we hate?
There is no crime, but still, not loving is the heart of all crime.
To feel so deeply unloved we wish to destroy ... you name it.
Blot out, ruin and erase them; our enemies, our families, lovers, and even the world herself.
Jab a knife into her verdant hide and twist until black blood flows.
Gouge out mountaintops seeking iron for our towers.
Remaking her grace to build our graveyard.
These vibrant phosphorescent tombstones, overpopulated pillars of mutual isolation reach up into the clouds.
Announcing to the universe, we trumpet a loneliness as profound as it is absurd and ugly.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
*why do people always pain themselves to write as if they could ever be understood, when so few read them, and even a fewer number care to understand? and why do so many ably bodied ******* themselves with writing? why have they lost the taste for fresh air and instead chose a wheelchair that writing is?*
in legal terms - are you implying a play on synonyms or
just simply stating: d'uh, i don't know what
that means? ah, a limitation on the vocabulary,
an atypical symptom of lawyers - when socrates attacked
eloquence per se, he also defeated himself
by ensuring law abided by the law of highest eloquence,
and the rabble got diddly-squat, his attack on rhetoricians
lost the prowess of attracting debased educators
with himself the most debased educator:
and instead attracted lawyers... thus the law of the eloquent,
rather than the rubric of the least eloquent...
lost an eye for an eye, lost a mouth with it too...
i rather be fed eloquence and education
and coarseness to equally educate
than be fed a justice fed by eloquence alone,
because if this is to be the equilibrating case,
then serving justice will just be a case of speaking
in a satin tongue of readied rhetoric
as justice so called,
and when speaking in a coarse tongue
no justice will be made applicable...
i rather be educated by someone in a coarse tongue
than be brought to justice by someone in an eloquent tongue,
i rather not be educated by someone in an eloquent tongue /
i rather be brought to justice by someone in a coarse tongue
(the mob),
at least the coarse tongue is well equipped to
address the many who require educating,
unlike the eloquent tongue equipped to
address itself and itself alone, rather than addressing
the jury who blindly pass judgement, because
the lawyer's tongue is not in the mouth of the defendant
but in the lawyer's mirror of social strata of respectability
appearing so guiding, kindly tying a bow-tie of applause.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC
omnipresent sick to my ******* stomach
dressed in mosquitoes that are woolen
like the lining of my english ******* and
coated in a complex mixture of secreted proteins
i follow the screen of the teleprompter as it storms,
blue and brilliant behind a mess of optical wiring.
lip and teeth
theres bile at the base of my throat
threatening to bust with each greased second
as my brain becomes nauseated by the snow-drift
of sentences burning the back of my eyelids.
i've never believed the things i read
so now i'm mute but spitting, spiteful and unoriginal
visualizing their greyhound decapitations in high colour.
nearly implying transit to our friendship or something
that would only churn the stomach like rich food after famine
so yes, i am the cruelest female of august
shipwrecked on the front porch with the lamplight raining in my mind
and i'm asking the moon as it rises like a solemn word
why i'm sick all the time, sweating
from everywhere but my tear ducts and
waiting for several breeds of cold to attack my corpse
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 11:39 AM UTC
*I hate people who trivialize any sadness.
If they're suffering, why should they be mocked?
You answer for me.
Don't tell me they're implying
They're suffering is greater than others
Or that they're intensifying
The flighting emotion that need not be exaggerated
Because you don't known their pain,
Get an insight to their thought,
Accept their pain into yourself--
Yes you have suffered, none can deny that
But if you don't respect the man
Comparatively weaker, or sound
How can anyone respect your position?
You are a parasite,
Lost in the host
You feed off sadness
You know it's a drought
Yet you remain cynical
So simple in your name.
Your life is filled with hollow anguish
You'll never learn in time
And in my dread
I know you are me...*
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 2:36 AM UTC
Growing up, a girl watches, learns,
The truths of boys and men—
so often unturned.
“Boys will be boys,”
a phrase we know,
implying girls must shoulder the load.
Girls mature fast,
women pick up the cast—
an unspoken burden, a silent decree:
Bear the weight of their irresponsibility.
In a world gripped by misogyny,
women face judgment,
their futures unclasped.
Absorbing shame for games they play,
men walk away, free to go their way.
Homes abandoned,
men now free,
their true selves unknown.
Disgrace drapes women—a heavy yoke,
neglect shatters hope.
Promises unkept,
fathers vanish as children wept.
Guilt escaped with practiced ease,
duty dodged, a ghost on the breeze.
Children and wife he never knew,
society laughs at the pain he withdrew.
Children carry his woes—
identities shaped by the hurt he chose.
Shame shouldered early,
remembering blame.
Love claimed,
but never there.
Strain felt in his name,
unfairness echoes.
Abandoned women and children grow—
a daunting endeavor men overthrow.
Shadows linger, burdens remain;
a future carved where hope will maintain.
Every struggle faced—a dawn,
strength carries on.
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 11:24 PM UTC
And yet despite the reciprocities of man, we are still at war.
Not at war with other nations,
Not at war with our governments,
Not at war with our neighbors,
But at war with ourselves.
The war that never ends is the war that is fought inside ourselves.
We all know that this is something that exists,
We all know that this is something that shouldn’t change,
We all know that sometimes war is too great for ourselves and we seek help.
But the war is something that we all agree should remain.
Why I ask of you,
Why must this war remain?
Is it so that we can constantly better ourselves through repeated questioning?
Is it so we can work to create turmoil in our minds in which we must struggle through?
Or is it so we have a reason to perpetually push ourselves to improve so that we may reach a certain goal?
This is an answer that will forever remain for it is different for the individual.
But it is my belief that thanks to these inner wars, we may improve as a society, no, more so improve as a species.
Through self improvement, through self turmoil, through self questioning, we may force ourselves to change, to become the person or entity in which we wish to become,
And if everyone was able to achieve this goal,
Either it be through our own desires, or the desires of our circumstance,
We can improve others, thanks to the experience one gains, and due to the natural human desire for social contact.
But not all inner wars lead to this outcome,
Many of them lead to selfishness, entitlement, or even apathy for their fellow people.
Saying that we should leave behind our earthly values, or a physical addiction is not what I’m implying here.
I believe that we are all allowed to have some selfishness, some amount of self entitlement, and even a small amount of apathy for people.
We do not need to feel empathy for the people who have wronged us, but we shouldn’t ignore the reasoning for them doing so, we can learn from their mistakes and teach it to others.
Being too selfless leads to self destruction due to giving too much of yourself away for the sake of others, this leads to a mind that will sooner than later crumble under the stress of pleasing those around them, and even sooner a body that will start to fall apart from beneath them.
A small amount of self entitlement leads to knowing one's self worth, if you have no entitlement then you lead to being too selfless, and leads you to become used by those around you.
How?
By allowing yourself to do the tasks or the jobs that nobody else wishes to do, yes it's good that someone does those things, but letting someone do it for too long and their mind too will lower itself to the trash tasks and will become trash itself due to repeated exposure.
The inner war that we all face, that we all have, and that we can all see,
It should be discussed,
It should be allowed to be seen by others,
It should be a way for self improvement.
It should always remain.
Jul 2, 2023
Jul 2, 2023 at 4:29 PM UTC
Its so much easier to cry in the dark
Why?
You may ask
Well, I feel like a black hole
Devoid of air
Everything beautiful gets dragged down
Down into the deepest hole of my chest
My greedy sorrowed soul
Searching for an eternal light
Something I can grasp onto that wont break off
That I wont drag down or push away
Flowers trying to grow along the base of my skull
Trying to sprout through the toxic darkness that lingers
Its so dull inside my head
Everything in me as charcoal gold
What I am implying is
When its pitch black I am one with the dark
And my soul.
Theres nothing I can poison or destroy
Thats why its so much easier to cry in the dark
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
We've all heard about the site 'Ask.fm' where people anonymously ask each other questions, be it about their personal life or just for fun. I recently joined this site just to see what kind of questions people ask and how people react to such questions. But one answer really infuriated me.
A person was asked to describe his country (India) in 3 words. He replied saying 'Cricket. **** Corruption'. Now I understand the frustration a normal Indian faces everyday regarding the growing cases of **** and corruption. But why insult your own country on a public forum knowing fully well that the person sending the question might just be from a different country? Is this the picture we want to give others about India? We should be proud to be Indians and should talk highly of our country. This brings me to my next point.
I hear a number of Indians, specially students, criticizing the country and saying that they want to leave it. It bothers me that educated Indians themselves have no will to help develop their own country. India cannot grow until the people want to make it grow. Unfortunately, people, including me, have been influenced too much by the western culture. We see America and all we want is to live in a country as 'classy' and developed as America. Why don't we think even once that if we leave, how will our country flourish? It is the people who form a country, not the government and not the old politicians. I am not implying that all of us should join politics and run the country. But the least we can do is lead it to the path of development in the best possible way we know.
Charity begins at home. Our home is India and we are Indians. Running away from this fact won't change it.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
I hate phrases like, "bruise like a peach."
Implying that you have to be weak to feel pain.
I look at you, know that you're hurting
and think that out of all the fruit in a basket,
you are very much an apple.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
awoke from a dream last Wednesday
strangely refreshing and uplifting
resounding in music
the notes still reverberating on my heartstrings
it was the first dream of my brother
since his passing
it may be my first dream of him ever
he was laying in bed
contemplating his demise
don’t know if he was speaking before or after the fact
guess it really doesn’t matter
with one simple sentence
and just a hint of anger
“Life is stupid”, he said.
implying remorse and resentment
for still having so much to do
I backed away to give him his privacy
as I readied myself for work
he got up out of bed and found me
happy and smiling, a sparkle in his eyes and teeth
corroborated his contentment
he was walking around the house playing his guitar
it was acoustic and unplugged
but the sound was electric
he was playing a Mexican folksong
his ex-wife appeared, singing the refrain:
“Ay, ay, ay, ay, canta y no llores
por qué cantando se alegran
Cielito Lindo, los corazones” 1
his song struck a chord whose message was immediate:
“sing and don’t cry
for singing gladdens the heart”
his daughter’s seventeenth birthday is today
with a party this weekend
timing is often coincidental
but it seems to me
this message was for her
and everyone at the gathering
for those who would listen
Terence would tell us:
“Life is stupid...so sing and don’t cry”
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 10:46 AM UTC
I had a dream I was dreaming..
implying strong aspirations of optimism
indicating my wishful thinking
that I was a small child
blonde, and fair without a care
fluent in French
along with emotional intelligence
ahead of my time
in feminine wile
I was acting out a play
animated in every way
drawing a crowd
all the grown ups watched
smiling at me
imagining a bright future
at least that's what I dreamed...
they could all see...
then I turned into a Chimpanzee
swinging from tree to tree.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 12:03 PM UTC
The Universe
is a manifestation
of the Music of the Godself,
and I am a personification of that Universe.
Music is not my Medium; I am that of Music.
The Universe at any given time
is the "All-Chord" of that moment;
The Harmony of all that is,
implying a motion
forward in time
perhaps towards resolution?
Not if Entropy has anything to say about it,
which, by now, it certainly seems to.
What a queer Symphony is this Existence,
that implores Entropy to be Maestro!
A Babushka Doll Set of Paradoxes,
Perfect!
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 11:44 AM UTC
looking back I see
where it all went wrong
it was when I saw her
her in bra and a thong
you weren’t denying
you’d only been implying
this friend you said
is only a friend
it may not have been a lie
it was enough for me
to say bye.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
i don't like watching you
exaggerate my condition.
sorry,
i should say,
our
condition.
you call it a disease
and that is not a lie.
you call it an illness
and that is also true.
but where you cross the line
is when you call it
a
"disability."
legally we are broken.
it is a tragedy
that our lives have a monetary value
and we pay it every time
we walk to the pharmacy counter.
but do not call yourself
disabled
with the tone
implying "disabled"
equals
"weak"
or
"helpless"
not when you
haven't even seen a quarter
of what others have seen.
not when you
haven't learned how
to grow up.
you are not special.
i am not special.
we are not special.
keeping our physical bodies alive
is one thing.
your perception of "strength"
is our perception of "insecure"
i don't understand why diabetes
needs to be a personality trait.
our lives are different
we're broken
we're "sick"
but we could deal with it
with grace
why can't you deal with it
with grace?
awareness is important
but if it only benefits you,
is it awareness
for anyone
else?
i'm worried my rights
will be questioned
by your actions.
our lives are already for profit,
the government calls us
whatever they like
i'm not asking you to hide
i'm asking you to stop
pretending
you are perfectly capable.
i keep telling you
to get help
you don't listen.
don't exaggerate
my friends' lives
don't imply our weakness
we might be sick
but we have control
don't take the power away
from the rest
of us
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 12:40 AM UTC
I found a home in your hands
and took refuge in your words
A knight in shining armor, it seemed almost too good to be true.
I observed as your charming indie boy facade faded fast and you shed your sheep clothing.
Ill tempered with glazed over eyes
Your hand would tighten around my throat
We both talked of death
sleeping
*******
smoking
You promised me the world
But did not hesitate when you pulled the rug from out underneath me.
"How can you put your faith into what the stars say?"
And I simply replied
"Because they were there every night for me when God wasn’t."
The nights when I would pray to just be taken away from it all, to make the incessant arguing stop.
Asking questions as to:
Why I had to walk in on my mother with a man who wasn’t my father?
Why I had to pull the barrel out of my father’s mouth and watch him weep?
Or why my cat, who seemed to be my only friend in the world had been ran over that summer?
A sudden realization that I’d rather put my faith into a zodiac calendar instead of sitting in a church pew.
How did I get here?
I blinked once and I was forced to grow up, the world had grown become cruel and cold, and in times like these a void expanded in my chest so heavily that I questioned where my real faith needed to be.
Your attempt to dictate my spirit only made me rebel more.
You would preach how women should act a certain way
That maybe I should wear less makeup
And wear longer skirts to protect not only my but "our virtue"
You said homosexuality was a sin
Claiming a couple of the same *** could never truly lie down at night and love each other.
"Let Christ into your life and you'll be forgiven" you'd say
"Like when you told me about that girl you kissed on the lips last summer." As we sat in pulse stopping silence for the rest of my family dinner.
So what you are really implying here, is if you're save by grace it's okay to be an *******
If you always hurting the one's you love
You might as well become a self proclaimed narcissist instead of a self righteous ******* son of your God.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 4:10 AM UTC
And so they asked' bruh
What is love?
And then I said... thus...
Love is an unexplainable trago-chemical curse ******
into your heart leading to a kinda shock
That neither ABC nor CPR can resolve
But instead of dying... you hearts keeps fighting
And instead of crying... your eyes keeps igniting
with lights that's almost blinding
See, what I'm implying....
Is though love strucks like lightening, it still feels exciting
Pretence, judge, privacy, remorse
Nah, love is far from stuff like such
Love is the brother of loyalty and trust
The great grandpa of affection and lust
Who happens to be the uncle of honesty and Wisdom
And right next to the wall of love
Lives heartbreak and hurt
Even though they're not related by blood
The same boundary engulfed their hut 🏠
But see, even at detriment of abuse and insult
And when the whole world connive
to bring love distress and strive
True love thrives and survives
All the tempo of life
True love is the upgrade of Love and Like
Yea, I said love and like cos they're alike
Love is immortal; it never dies
Love don't give up; it don't say goodbye
And even if it gets weak; it play back the golden times
Love attracts enmity; unlike water 💧
But like Leonidas and em 300 Spartans; love don't falter
Yea, love slaughter; any obstacles that tryna taunt her
to Moses and Samson in the bible; Love is stronger
Even box to box; Tyson Fury wouldn't last a quarter
Love don't lie, love don't hide
Love ain't fly, but it touch the sky
Love don't cry; love don't deny
Love don't oblige to picking side
Love don't die; love survive
Love don't sly when bad time arise
Love ain't man; but its arm is open wide
Like clouds up in the sky, love dont lack supply
Love is philanthropic; love don't deal in hate
White or black; love won't discriminate
If you're rich, and I'm not; love won't disintegrate
Love will share with you every grain in its plate
Love is transparent; no tricky games
Love don't give space for hate to lay
Love don't hibernate; it's brain is wide awake
Love don't stray from the right-filled way
Love forgives, love don't seek revenge
Love repent wholeheartedly; love don't pretend
Love don't hold grudges; yea, love dont resent
And when its blood boils hot; it clicks reset
Loyalty and honesty is what love do pledge
Love is trust; love don't set cunning tests
Love believes; it don't need evidence
God is what Love represents
Aug 5, 2022
Aug 5, 2022 at 7:38 AM UTC
This isn't a poem or a story this is stream of consciousness baby a dangerous thing cause you might drown and you might get bored but I am arrogant as hell and I believe to the souls of my feet that I am a glittery gleaming river of crystal and fire cause that's a soul baby and we are made of the square root of energy-over-the-speed-of-light the same stuff as stars and God's breath and hot **** that's a wonderful thing that we are alive darlin we are alive so take a deep breath cause when's the last time you did that I'm looking at you love and I like what I see you're a pretty nice guy really though implying a question sorry dear but you know we don't really talk and why is that oh yeah we are surrounded in practically prison by busybodies guards again sorry dears but you know it's true and is that the reason or is it that we have nothing to say empty like an old cocoon butterfly's fluttered by and that's really what I'm hanging like a small winter coat on I'm getting slightly dusty musty so come and wipe me off I want to see if we can have an actual conversation I know basically nothing about you except you like Moby **** and you can dance both of which I gotta admit are major pros but I know that being young handsome and pleasant to be with are bad reasons to love someone thanks to Nellynicole are you Heathcliff dear lord I hope not he is such a bore according to the Cardplayer although he was a joker lets not kid ourselves here but come on he's related to Liesel and she loved Rudy and that was good and right and terrible and tragic and heartbreaking and oh god Rudy why did you die sobbing over you I loved you like a friend a brother a lover and you aren't even real so why am I hung up over YOU?!
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
The frumpy ragamuffin is discombobulated
And throws together an out fit
She dawns a fur coat in the middle of July
And begins to eat Alpo
She exfoliates her feet with a cheese grater
The top notch tuba player with a hook for a hand suffers from bed sores and an over active pituitary gland
I ask him what the difference is between reasons and excuses
He seems to be dancing around the question
But answers in a round about way
Implying that one is organic and natural while the other is genetically modified and man made
It's zero hour
As I look at the broken coo coo clocks
And the rainbow colored rocks
The ragamuffin presumptuously tells me that no one benefits from doubt
Then calls my friend a bed wetter
And tells us she must go to feed her Venus flytraps
She storms back towards her laboratory
I wonder what she could possibly do in there
I'm dying to know
I'm on the edge of my seat
With one foot in the grave
The tuba player returns wrapped in an electric blanket
He tells us he's just suffered from sleep paralysis
"It's a dead zone, can't get a signal"
He goes on to say that blind faith is is a stepping stone to the truth
A game of William Tell, a stab in the dark
A round of Blind man's bluff with Marco Polo
Testing the waters is a building block of wisdom
And a clean bill of health is corner stone of a happy life
That you have to pay for out of pocket when playing the field
And we are the choices we've made incarnate
Now, the ragamuffin and the tuba player come once more
To tell us the mind is as incorruptible as the soul
But the body will bow to time and wither away
They then walk backwards, back to where ever they came
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC