"inanities" poems
My eyes are beyond polluted
By the overflowing inanities
That paint wordless post-mortems
On yesterday's lost fantasies
Rolling over lifeless as dead certains
When obligations fall into disrepair
And the king of all invocations
Awaits power sitting in an electric chair
As darkness shrouds the uninspired
In triumphant ticker tape parades
While the bewildered beast becomes the feast
A million glasses in toast are raised
To the jesters unequivocally blasphemous proposal
To the queen of all frustrated converts
Who Once Upon a Time willingly surrendered
To the impresario pretender
Who fooled the world by laying siege on the empty house of cards
And with all the power granted
By the grace of obscenities triumphant screams
Separating me from reality by infiltrating my failing vision
With the polluted overflowing inanities of these cellophane dreams
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 4:39 AM UTC
I think
My tolerance for ********
Has reached its breaking point.
Now I spend my lunch hours
Squirreled away in the smoking room
Lost in tunes
Locked in with my thoughts
Scarfing down
One cigarette after another
And writing these ****** poems.
I don't care to hear
About the inanities of your sad lives.
It's all so bleak.
I feel most alone in a crowd.
I suppose
We all have our ways
Of coping
With the affliction of life.
Many seek refuge
In the mindless chatter of sheep
Others find their release
Balls-deep in a wet hole
Or tasting blood and sweat
In the boxing ring
Or the warm, comforting embrace
Of alcohol.
Such blissful escape, all of them.
So what's wrong
With the hallowed cloisters
Of my mind?
**** the lot of you
With your petty dramas
******* hypocrisies
******* noises
Summoning up
The vilest contempt
Slumbering in me.
I am enough.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
Shatter
not my day dreams
fragile as glass they are
for they are all I have, to stay
alive!
Power
your dreams today
before they slip away
in the inanities of your
dull life
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 5:53 AM UTC
{•}
unwanted love
we, the human counting crows, tracking everything, steps, bank balances, heartbeats & especially,
those dastardly calories that need burning
pre yoga, her morning banana,
she takes but a half, and looks to unload the balance on a sucker/victim in the vicinity because a whole
is greater than a half,
and God knows a whole could make you fatter!
fully prepared for her desperate supplication, reply so quick,
"you're forcing me to eat unwanted calories,"
she crestfallen,
near to weeping from guilty feelings,
a crime so heinous!
but more than ready, added words, prepared years ago:
*but to save your life gladly give you any body part,
step in front of a vehicle, for a certain somebody,
you may know, to preserve, life and liberty,
put up with your inanities, border-lining on insanities,*
answer your questions before you think of them,
*and will restrict my singing to sole showers in the basement
but never will I eat for two, that so undesirable,
in the name of love*
to which she came to my bedside, kissed my nose, whispering,
"thank you for my life saving,"
while stuffing my mouth with said weapon,
"thank you again,
please don't make this into a poem"*
somedays you just ain't gonna win,
you see she loves me too well
and knows
my answers before I do...
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 10:31 AM UTC
In God We Trust, For He Invented Reasonable Doubt
In Courtroom of the State of New York, Part 62,
where the only decoration extant,
in gold leaf letters,
a magnificent joke,
In God We Trust.
Words so incongruous
to the real time drama,
a poorly acted Law and Order episode
of which I partake,
(as Juror No. 1,
ergo you may address me as
Mr. Jury Foreman),
they stun me into stupefaction
every time we enter and the
Bailiff pronounces with much gravitas,
"Jury Entering"
A potpourri of a dozen Manhattanites,
with wisdom acquired
by the singular virtue of
having attained the robust age of 18,
noteworthy for being free of
criminal record,
having been nominated
to sit upon the jury that will decide
the fate of one Eric B.,
for what he may have done upon West 11th Street
one Summer night in
June Two Thousand and Eleven,
If adjudged guilty,
New York State can take,
incarcerate him for up to
15 years of his life
Predicate felon by the age of twenty seven,
Eric's resume consists of
four felonies,
two misdemeanors
a wife and two little children,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
Facts turgid and muddy,
Eric tells a story
one juror calls a confection of lies,
no one murmurs
much disagreement in the
tiny, overheated room
we have been sequestered to
replay
the 2012 version of
Twelve Angry Men.
But I am not his peer,
nor am I a seer,
common sense says
if appearances are what they seem to be,
he aided and abetted
in the forcible taking of
a nice Connecticut lady's cell phone
with his brother who just happened to be
released from prison earlier that day
A convoluted tale
ripe with inanities is told,
upshot is our defendant's tale,
his robust defense,
portrays him as the unluckiest man
in the whole world,
a good Samaritan,
*{chasing after the thief,
** ** his bro}*
against whom events have conspired
In Manhattan can be a harsh place,
where the natives
a tough lot,
tougher than the Indians from whom
they stole it all.
Our bridges we sell to out-of-towers,
all it takes is one to say,
what the heck,
reasonable doubt is
a ***** to overcome
so let him go
Jan, 2012
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
An original creation, that's what you are
in vibrant colors nature carefully assembled,
as you sashayed through your time,till here
now all across the front page one can see you
arousing pleasure that moves me deeply,
done in bold sweeps of a brush immersed in joy
making onlookers stand agape, thrilled
mumbling inanities as none has the grasp
of the quicksilver aesthetics that rules you.
And I, obscure , at the best like a crop circle
done in the secret hours after midnight,
or a cryptic mural on a dull wall, long past it's prime
doodled by an interplanetary traveler gone astray,
a drawing in grey fading slowly in to oblivion,
yet to be deciphered is the benediction,
it carries from light years far away,
it will be gone soon as the light from galaxies far
want to make it their own, little by little each night
Am I not transient and to be forgotten soon?
But you are steadfast and adamant
very rooted in your reasoning
sprung from a center devine, we both
claim together.
"Am I not a woman and lover first?"
Your eyes, gleam, exuding a timelessness that speaks to me.
"I would only dream of lying naked under your
sweet heaving heaviness, to receive the nectar,
the transient ecstasy that gifts me the precious seed
that'd grow to heights immortal,on the bank of the milky way"
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
The big teetotum twirls,
And epochs wax and wane
As chance subsides or swirls;
But of the loss and gain
The sum is always plain.
Read on the mighty pall,
The **** of funeral
That covers praise and blame,
The -isms and the -anities,
Magnificence and shame:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
The Fates are subtle girls!
They give us chaff for grain.
And Time, the Thunderer, hurls,
Like bolted death, disdain
At all that heart and brain
Conceive, or great or small,
Upon this earthly ball.
Would you be knight and dame?
Or woo the sweet humanities?
Or illustrate a name?
O Vanity of Vanities!
We sound the sea for pearls,
Or drown them in a drain;
We flute it with the merles,
Or tug and sweat and strain;
We grovel, or we reign;
We saunter, or we brawl;
We search the stars for Fame,
Or sink her subterranities;
The legend's still the same:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
Here at the wine one birls,
There some one clanks a chain.
The flag that this man furls
That man to float is fain.
Pleasure gives place to pain:
These in the kennel crawl,
While others take the wall.
She has a glorious aim,
He lives for the inanities.
What come of every claim?
O Vanity of Vanities!
Alike are clods and earls.
For sot, and seer, and swain,
For emperors and for churls,
For antidote and bane,
There is but one refrain:
But one for king and thrall,
For David and for Saul,
For fleet of foot and lame,
For pieties and profanities,
The picture and the frame:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
Life is a smoke that curls--
Curls in a flickering skein,
That winds and whisks and whirls,
A figment thin and vain,
Into the vast Inane.
One end for hut and hall!
One end for cell and stall!
Burned in one common flame
Are wisdoms and insanities.
For this alone we came:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
Envoy
Prince, pride must have a fall.
What is the worth of all
Your state's supreme urbanities?
Bad at the best's the game.
Well might the Sage exclaim:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
1.6k
The big teetotum twirls,
And epochs wax and wane
As chance subsides or swirls;
But of the loss and gain
The sum is always plain.
Read on the mighty pall,
The **** of funeral
That covers praise and blame,
The--isms and the--anities,
Magnificence and shame:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
The Fates are subtile girls!
They give us chaff for grain.
And Time, the Thunderer, hurls,
Like bolted death, disdain
At all that heart and brain
Conceive, or great or small,
Upon this earthly ball.
Would you be knight and dame?
Or woo the sweet humanities?
Or illustrate a name?
O Vanity of Vanities!
We sound the sea for pearls,
Or drown them in a drain;
We flute it with the merles,
Or tug and sweat and strain;
We grovel, or we reign;
We saunter, or we brawl;
We answer, or we call;
We search the stars for Fame,
Or sink her subterranities;
The legend's still the same:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
Here at the wine one birls,
There some one clanks a chain.
The flag that this man furls
That man to float is fain.
Pleasure gives place to pain:
These in the kennel crawl,
While others take the wall.
She has a glorious aim,
He lives for the inanities.
What comes of every claim?
O Vanity of Vanities!
Alike are clods and earls.
For sot, and seer, and swain,
For emperors and for churls,
For antidote and bane,
There is but one refrain:
But one for king and thrall,
For David and for Saul,
For fleet of foot and lame,
For pieties and profanities,
The picture and the frame:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
Life is a smoke that curls--
Curls in a flickering skein,
That winds and whisks and whirls
A figment thin and vain,
Into the vast Inane.
One end for hut and hall!
One end for cell and stall!
Burned in one common flame
Are wisdoms and insanities.
For this alone we came:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
Envoy
Prince, pride must have a fall.
What is the worth of all
Your state's supreme urbanities?
Bad at the best's the game.
Well might the Sage exclaim:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
1.6k
I read about the how and the why
and the where and the when
of love
and rarely see plain words
that show the range of reaction
of love made manifest
giddy night time
singing to the moon
babbling inanities
to all the friends
who make time to listen,
scribbled words
as blind offerings never posted,
damp misery
crying to a nighttime pillow
salt tears falling
into your morning coffee
and nighttime soup
and the worst
looking up at the window
where the lover lives
deaf and blind to you below
and yet I know
all those
who have been out on that limb
and have come back
are rarely defeated
and quickly set out
to once again gamble
in the crapshoot called love
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
I suffer from a disease that goes by the name of Loneliness.
It's an ancient affliction;
some sick kind of curse,
and those who know it best often boast: it's the worst.
But every now and then,
I look around me to see some fat cow in the company of a dead-eyed chudd -
spewing out a slew of inanities for lack of the cud.
He finally shuts her up with a kiss on the mouth,
as they walk off hand in hand.
I think to myself:
"How in the hell did they find a cure,
but I can't?"
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
cowering.............moving in mucky filthy lives they call their own
(but they are not their own!)
see the running away!
running from all living beings!
running towards the dogma!
running toward the proffered vanity!
...........
silly little vipers, these
true believers!
----------------
scorn!
scorn to you is praise
for you claim to be the
persecuted heroes and martyrs ,
the saviors who so shamelessly
repeat any and all inanities
that take you from the very light you claim
has anointed you as true believers!
...........
SICKENING!
........
YOU SICKEN ALL WHO COME UPON YOU
YOU ARE TOTAL DISEASE!
..........
the lovers are everywhere
as hopefully you may come to see
and join
for the very fight for life
is upon us now
and"useless"
written on your gravestone
may be hard to take
Aug 24, 2011
Aug 24, 2011 at 3:00 PM UTC
Feathers torn from the gaping napes of wind began to dwindle and resist in spite of the gravity crushing tsunami.
Trapped in a facade of impersonating flowing rain every feather dived to their unplanned descent.
All drowning in the nightmarish truth of actually being smothered in tears of a blue eyed-giant as they fell from the sky of that big blue eye’s, dead decapitated face.
A face severed on a head that hid a heavenly chateaus inside a false impersonated globe forever resting among the stars.
Inside housed all kinds of dimensional beings rarely ever seen but all known to possess legendary archaic features.
They mastered all the realms and lastly rule our skies.
They are cold warriors of combat- handled by their deadly grace, poisonous envy, blinding halos, and suffocating wings…
Oh such undeniably divine things!
First plucked from you, then stolen from me!
A conscious belief known only by those who wish to remain unseen
as we become the common theory of all your pretty inanities.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC
write little. overwhelmed by the "competition,''
those who birth litters of poems by the bushel,
but let us serve you morsel, a petites bouchées,
a fingertip to both lips, sensately fulfilling, the
need mutuel, thus, we are both self~satisfied,
as I search for words of comforting arousal,
that relax simultaneously & invigorate, for these
are the dualities of our innate inanities, the things,
that can never be satisfied without a compromise
of nerves and plaisirs, clashing leaders, who both
are needed to satisfy the larger human diction of
conditions;
sometimes they exist in the same universe,
sometimes they exist at the same time,
sometimes they exist only in the mind,
and not the cells of the body human,
whereby the inputs must be inserted,
to reach the boiling *** of overlap,
but if this tease, doth please, even for
a secondary second, that we are both
blessed
Aug 18, 2025
Aug 18, 2025 at 2:55 PM UTC
To Allen Ginsberg and Frank O’Hara
Come out, ye boys of my literary dream
Frank, stop discussing this Rembrandt painting
Take a good drag like I never did, and come out
Down the street, down the ***** ***** days of madness
Allen, talk some sense into these selfied statuses
Come out, ye boys and talk into the microphone
Loosen your tie, Frank, show us some real art
Lose it on the sidewalk ye boys and let’s break
The rules, the locks, the prisons of the soul
Addictions, fears, anxieties, inanities.
Come out, ye boys and throw some rhymes to us
So we can think about ourselves while worshipping you
So that some people out there can stop whore-shipping
Sending our lukewarm bodies and fluids against the wall
What would you say Frank, of all the Rivers who
Try to reproduce the beauty of the human body on screen
Without the aesthetics, without the knowledge
Of what love means. Garter belts and welts, is that all?
Come out, ye boys and let’s be graphic, let’s be artistic
Teach us how to spread your love your legs and your legacy
Pass on this fearless gait, this adamant will to keep on
Despite the junk of our cities down the ***** ***** streets
Come out ye boys, admirers of poetry and people
Come out under a rainbow or a ring, SM fans or prudes
Let’s march on an on an on down our ***** ***** streets
With ye, boys.
June 21, 2017
Lyon. 10:36 pm.
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 4:42 PM UTC
Today, I was scolded
Was told that I was a boor;
That I had, inadvertently
Rendered some holy cattle
Of theirs a death rattle
A battle I won, without knowing
I had even fought, thought
I was just being amusing,
Somehow confusing my path
Down through the tulips
As a meander down the apse
Of some secret church.
Unfair! I was unaware.
And even now, I fear I care
Far less than they do
About their holy cows.
I didn’t then, I don’t now.
But, I have accepted, long ago
That, with social networking
I simply has to be so
That people will be offended;
Starting open-ended rancor,
Scoring slash after ****** slash
Across my Mr. Perfection sash
Granted me by nobody but me,
And that they will put a smudge
By bearing a grudge
About what I see
As a trifling inconsequentiality.
But is their cathedral,
Their Mecca to bow to
And thus I will be the target
Of slings and arrows.
Shall I be sure to only speak
If I speak plenty of inanities
Muttering banalities about love
And the weather and books
Shall I fear the looks, the scorn
Born of misunderstandings
Taken as mishandling
The hearts of the tender
And render myself informationless,
Opinion free, without personality
Speaking when spoken to eternally
So I don’t trip over hidden wires,
Don’t **** on burning fires
Of pet peeves, rip off the sleeves
Of hair shirts, do idols dirt?
Is that the way it should go?
I don’t think so.
But, what do I know?
I am the scurrilous, stumbling fool
Who ****** in someone’s pool
And told them it was raining.
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 1:04 AM UTC
After you left
My cigarettes tasted dull
The electricity in the air vanished
And my thoughts lost their luster
How could I frolic in the playground of my mind
When your voice still echoes
Bouncing around
From dank nook to dusty corner
And stirs and disturbs
Tired emotions
Long meant to be put to rest.
******* on my **** stick
On the abandoned sidewalk
I can still see us
Five feet away
Breathing each other's smoke
Beaming smiles at passing cars
Exchanging inanities
While I gorged
On lies of grins and fraternal love.
At the hazy bottom of the bottle
Later that night
Is when I realize
I only exist
In between our hellos and goodbyes.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 6:11 AM UTC
.and if we went beyond wonder and wondered where we were
would we bother if we ever got there
together
would we wrap our dreams and tether them to the walls of our longings
in stockings would we walk
into the soft lilting talk of desirious strangers
and be aware of the dangers of
the femme fatale.
Fatal or not I think that's what we got
when we opened the lucky dip
when she tore that strip off you
for the man you could not be
and when she did see you were the man for her
you weren't even there
but were in Germany
building the bijou's they see in glossy magazines
pulled out of the fancy dreams
of the hoi polloi
boy
you didn't see that as you sat in your hightower flat drinking tequila
she served up your head on a platter
to friends who chattered inanities
above the
the lamps and the canopies.
Life is tough I told you so
the woman will know when you've had enough
and stuff you full of her vanity
another profanity on your lips
but it all slips away when you hear her say,
'are you coming to bed dear'
and you know that the end's near.but you cannot decide
between her and the ride
down to hell
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
Tap out Easter inanities
space it like a bunny-hop
throw in a pastel glottal stop.
Keep it short; digestible
and let it roll: comestible.
See then if they like the dish,
and grant them every starry wish.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 2:55 PM UTC
the **** dialing, ain’t it grand!
~for Mike Marshall-
the government made so much money off the tech giants,
it decided it could do them better, making even more $$$,
cause where there was misinformation, hatred and suppression, racism, and fanaticism, not to mention, true stuff criticizing them, and a lot of bad poetry,
even,
good old fashioned hooliganism which what they called us when cool fourteen year old idiots, roamed hot summer city streets, back in ‘64, doing cool things like knocking over garbage cans etcetera etcetera…
Big Tech could fine/find their way into extra few billion bucks
to finance greater inanities…
here’s hoping they don’t throttle the goose that laid the greatest
egg ever invented,
**** Dialing**
that has caused and healed wars, rifts, love affairs, by facing up to making the calls you’ve been puttering and putting off, to long lost siblings, just internet fiends and old, old, friends, where courage was lacking to make the first or last step.
to sealing the deal,
or breaking the ice!
Long Live **** Dialing!
5:45 pm
7/23/2023
Jul 26, 2023
Jul 26, 2023 at 4:41 PM UTC
A thought came into my head
as thoughts are wont to do,
"My Darling knows but desists to agree
that all I've done or would do
springs forth from love and adoration,
honestly, freely, willingly. "
And you grow weary of heavy words,
you rebuff giving shelter.
For who would desire, in their right mind,
My house of cards, my shameful, faithless squaler?
Only those who feign their love, 'tis all that I deserve.
A string of them--ad infinitum, inanities, vapid and absurd.
And I stand and cry aloud, thru every fated turn,
"'Tis I still here, bludgeoned but unbowed,
teaming with endearment, unforesaken, real and proud.
Perhaps now you might agree,
that trust is all you need, trust
and a leap of faith to me. "
Had you done so, who can say
what might have fallen from the tree.
Perhaps an unseen kiss on the lips,
as lite as lite can be...
These words now are barron,
and useless as can be,
I'll dream forever of that kiss
and continue to be me.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 6:30 AM UTC
Oh yes mediating meditating medicating
Over blue baby guitbox
Tea and black Afghan
Remembering again
Old friend
Oh yass yass (imaginary drawl)
Memories come back stronger
I ask Sil 'hey Sil there a word for that?'
She stares back with icy eyes
(Steel blue) As if to say 'Why ask?'
And in asking this really asking
Wherefore and other trite inanities
Fleeting requiem distractions
Tired repeat eulogies
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
did you know?
did you hear?
what's the go?
chinese whispers,
cost us dear.
at the water cooler,
in the dark,
murmuring inanities
in the park.
gossip, gossip,
word of the day.
such and such's,
significant other
has run away.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
My head
Is spinning
As I try to
Understand
The messages
Swirling around the room
Honestly,
Who thought it was a
"Good Idea"
To put one hundred
One hundred
Teenagers in a small room
And let them talk?
Does anyone think anymore?
These conversations
Are full of inanities,
Mundanities
There is nothing of
Consequence,
Just iPhones,
Snapchat,
Instagram.
Who decided
That ANY of this
Was in ANY WAY
A "Good Idea"?
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC
.
She wanders the streets like a dog in heat
Rubbing up against fire hydrants
Babbling inanities about HIS EYES !
and sterile safety
And ultimately
Social fear
)(
Sniffing each other in and out
Panting and salivating
Like an addict getting FIXED
)(
Subtle the odor of death
Subtle the stink of oblivion
In the blank stares of naked children
Seen as objects and used as fools
)(
Melting
Merging
Meaninglessly
Till dead from boredom
And tired of ******
And getting *****
They finally
Get a job
Or go on welfare
Mindlessly existing
Till the agony ends
.
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 5:13 AM UTC
||||
continuing
•
The ****** of Christ
••
(So who is really being ----- Saved?)
••
We walk NAKED LUNCH streets
And beaches
•
Little dreams
••
We watch disintegration
We see the brittle children break
••
Babbling of inanities
Scar the mind but cause no reaction !!
••
We
****** the Christ
And claim we are saved
••
Constantly
••
••
All the righteous people
Labelled
COMMUNIST REVOLUTIONARIES !!
•
We
****** the CHRIST every day
By lying to our children
About their sexuality
Or abusing them
Sexually and emotionally
••
We say we are --- Saved
But
We are not even --- safe
For any child to
Trust
••
The STORIES are distorted
As LOVE
Is banished to heaven to waste away
•••
Thank god I am here !
Thank god you are here !
Now
Everything is gonna change
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC