"jeffrey" poems
Your a dime
Dont let them waste your time
Even though your different
Your difference
makes you shine
Love your independence
Your beauty is Divine
You only live one
While your here
enjoy Your time
Dont let them
**** your vibe
Dont let them
See you cry
Tell them you'll see them
In heaven as you climb
Yes they're a problem
But karma will soon divide
The truth within your soul
From the lies that they provide
-Jeffrey A.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
On the surface
I look like an American
But
I've always felt
I've always known
That deep down inside
I am Italian!
••
For the sake of continuity
I'll still write as Jeffrey Robin
But I am now
SIGNIOR GIOVANNI FRANCESCO BELLADONNA DE LA BAD *** DUDE!
(Oh yeah
I'm Italian Mafiosa!)
••
I feel liberated!
PURE
••
Oh yeah.
There's one more thing
You know how I'm always writing these highly sensitive intelligent poems?
Well
I've looked deep down inside myself and realized that this isn't me!
Deep down inside
I AM AN IDIOT!
A FOOL!
••
Out of the closet!
At last!
Free!
••
This is the first poem I've written reflecting my newer
Truer
Status!
••
••
Let us romp together joyously
To the DEATH CAMPS.
Beyond the Hills!
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
the preacher never wrote a poem
about dahmer's baptism:
1.
he leaned across
the jail cell table
and his eyes were honest
when he said he believed in god
deeply
his eyes were honest
when he said goodnight honey
and gently draped his body
in a tub of sulfuric acid
his open jaw glistening in the moon
dissolving in the dusty noontime soliloquy
of crickets outside his apartment window
2.
can an honest man
bathe in those kind of wounds
and be allowed to ask
for a penance?
3.
for two weeks they left
his baptismal robes in storage
they asked if he really believed it
if he could believe in all this
4.
“when i was a kid
i was just like anybody else”
he had said
he seemed to think
being like anybody else
could dull the bloodstains
reduce the skeletons
still tucked into his closet
to powder
make his wishes into holy water
5.
yes jeffrey, anyone can drink it
but getting drunk on holiness
isn’t enough to repent
all of their fingers are wrapped around
your heart
doesn’t forgetting seem foolish
to the brains in your refrigerator
isn’t it just useless
to the spare ribs, in your bureau
drink all the holy water you want
you will always carry their bodies
on your chest
have you ever had a heart
other than the ones you collected
and did you ever know
what a soul feels like?
6.
and that day
they took him to a prison tub
and his body
glistened under the water
like a drowning animal or a martyr
jeffrey doesn’t float
7.
as he opens his eyes
his mouth wide
he looks just like him
suspended in white
ripples curdling in currents across his pale skin
a solar eclipse
covers the sun
as he comes up
for air
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 9:44 PM UTC
Her hair is blowing
in the high desert
winds
She's gotta
1942 Big Chief engine
between her knees
bequeathed
by her great granddaddy
She's heading up
395
Sierra bound.
She'll tell ya
she's had enough
straight time
driving her far from crazy
Pacing
playing losing aces
pulling her hair
she knew she
just
had to get out of there.
Now the great Mojave
has its expanse
Joshua Trees
they just had to laugh
as she rode by
China Lake
flashing
21st Century
weaponry
Passing through Independence
she's feeling free now
Now I can't say
running away
is
the way
But when your hair
is blowing in the winds
You gotta Big Chief motorcycle
between your legs
and
the ******* aren't stopping
what else can you
say?
Heading to the Sierra
gotta get the mountain view
high above it all
slump those shoulders down
breathe on through
Heading up Big Pine
smelling the Jeffrey Pines
Bishop too
ancient Mono Lake
when it ain't snowing
freedom reigns
Her hair blowing
in the mountain winds
didn't mean anybody
any harm
just had to get
out of there
alive
Bye bye
baby
take care.
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
There's now proof, that a Russian flesh-eating cannibal is in the good old US of A
He would offer you toxic ingredients, including gasoline and lighter fluid, I'd say
But, because its tell-tale scaly sores, are similar to another well known leacher
They initially played down concerns, saying, "they're not seeing signs of the creature"
My boyfriend had maggots coming out of his leg, after a recent foreign scare
I know people don't want to hear stuff like that, but it is really happening out there
Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three
Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul
Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free
Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all
They fall to the charlatans, that promise you a crystal ball
A little at first and then some more, that's for sure
It will make you snap, give you curls and dance you a little twirl
Star gazing thru the sun ray and day tripping into a wayward night
That's why if you use crocodile juice, it will do more than shake ya loose
Destroying our souls, creating huge holes and build mountains out of moles
Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three
Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul
Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free
Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all
Mr Jeffrey Vint has become less popular among his abusers
I say, "they're all losers", but I guess, beggars can't be choosers
Some mother's even gave birth with two thumbs, but those babies are now total ****
Others think the monster could be at large, maybe roaming your neighbourhood
Put a stop to this croc's chomp, before it destroys everything in the swamp
Get your doctor to prescribe a stronger drug, to conquer that evil imposter
Snap goes the toothless crocodile, one, two, three
Wangsta da Gangsta, had a great haul
Ring a ding a ling, 'cause they deliver the first for free
Jim and Joan went into da hood, to fetch nothin' much at all.
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 5:19 PM UTC
Billy Joe Clown walked down the street.
Looking for a good treat to eat.
Billy Joe Clown walked all around.
Not a single good treat, Billy Joe felt down.
But out of nowhere, came, something nice, and good.
Jeffrey Joe Child, a treat, eat it he absolutely should.
So Billy Joe Clown swooped right to the scene.
And tried his best, not to look mean.
Eyes open wide, he came to the peasant.
“Would you like a present?
Or a great big surprise?
Something served with fries?”
Billy Joe Clown said, as he smiled so wide.
“Why yes I would,” said the good child, who had nothing to hide.
And so with the quickness of a cat or a bear.
Billy Joe Clown took out a cleaver.
But the child didn’t care, so to his surprise.
He chopped up poor Jeffrey. And ate him with a Big Mac burger and fries.
Oh such a demise.
Oh such a surprise.
So if in the future, your a peasant or a pheasant.
And you hear these Clown words, “Do you want present?
Or a great big surprise?”
Run like the wind, before Joe chops you to size.
Cause he’s always out there and he’s never to die.
Chopping up children, and eating his fries.
Perhaps he’s out there right now,
Don’t ask me how.
Perhaps he’s spying on you.
Looks like Honey Boo Boo.
It wouldn’t be a surprise, to me or you.
For Jeffrey Joe Child read this poem, too.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
it became a perpetual motion
a dance
someone hands the card, another lights
the amount of aching discolored grazed fingers was immense
put your finger on the flint wheel
press it down
karen thought we should make a sign
the scrambles of bruised fingers for a piece of cardboard
my fingers throbbed as i scratched our message on the board
i kept the pink flower locked in the crease of my hand
and threw them in air
“draft card burning here”
it was 7 00 in the morning
october 21 1967
i was only 17
my brother jeffrey was flying a plane over dien bien phu
a friend richard was screaming in the trenches of xuan loc
a lover michael treading through a swamp in mui bai ****
i stepped up to The Police.
The. Men. In. Suits. Stared. At. Me
Blank. Faces. And. No. Expression.
I picked up my Pink Daisy, and brought it up to their bayonets
this is for Jeffrey, for Richard, and for Michael
the men in suits stared at me
in a world of chaos and confusion
all I heard was
Silence.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 2:09 PM UTC
The driver
she wears mascara
the
last remnant of her humaness
she's always been a
little blessed
she's met her death
many times.
You can hear
her coming on
the winds
freight train sounds
through the Jeffrey Pines
this train isn't
Bound for Glory
this train's bound
for eternity
a one way
ticket with
no return.
Though I've always
rooted for reincarnation.
This train
stops for gamblers
midnight ramblers
**** addled ******
addicts caught between
nodding out and cleaning
the refrigerator with a tooth brush.
Even saints on board will stay.
The oblivion express
your going to hop
on board when your
ticket is punched,
the ticket taker
laughs and smiles
his last glimpse
of humaness.
She's the driver
he's the turnstile
they were once
an item
before they were delivered
to their
new careers
never to see each
other again
except through the
glass of her engine.
The fire is stoked
the express becomes
a local
stopping for each
and every
daily passenger
you can hear that
whistle blow.
You don't know where you're
headed
you just know
you gotta go.
Her mascara drips down
her face
you and she
the ticket taker
too
there is no escape
the oblivion express
just around the corner
and
on its way.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
*Depression is not a 1st world problem
it is not a rich or poor person problem
it's not something that will just go away as you get older
or something you are immune to when you are younger
depression is not something that can be wished or willed away
depression is not a problem that only the weak or strong experience
it is not bound by race or ***
it is not something you can run away from
depression is not something you can lock away and forget about
depression won't leave you alone at night
it's not something that cares who your friends with or who you know
it doesn't care if you're sick or healthy
depression is something felt by all*
-Jeffrey Sutter
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
Buddha belly, rabbit’s foot,
how much luck can you get
from touching the dead?
(Maybe that’s the reason behind Jeffrey Dahmer’s slaughtering of
seventeen men;
maybe that’s the reason why we break wishbones—
to remind ourselves that this bone is dead
these hands are alive
do something with them.)
In some cultures, it is socially acceptable to
eat your child’s placenta—
there is good fortune in it, power in it.
(I wonder if this is the reason why cannibals eat their victims.)
Number seven. Cross on the wall.
I wish you good luck.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
Once you give yourself to me.
There is no way that you are free.
Mine are eyes that see my prey.
Welcome night, and grieve the day.
I've loved before,
I'll love you more
Than anyone who let you go.
Don't move, don't blink,
Don't cry, don't think -
You can let your free will go.
I love you like Ed.
I love you like Jeffrey.
I love you like John.
I love you like Luka.
Things are going to change for you.
There is nothing you can do.
There is nothing you can say.
You can never get away.
Don't be afraid.
You're in my shade.
I'm never gonna let you go.
You're mine tonight,
And all the nights -
I'm never gonna let you go.
I love you like Ed.
I love you like Jeffrey.
I love you like John.
I love you like Luka.
It rubs the lotion on its skin,
Or else it gets the hose again.
It rubs the lotion on its skin,
Or else it gets the hose again.
It rubs the lotion on its skin,
Or else it gets the hose again.
(Precious)
It rubs the lotion on its skin,
Or else it gets the hose again
I've loved before,
I'll love you more
Than anyone who let you go.
Don't be afraid.
You're in my shade.
I'm never gonna let you go.
I love you like Ed.
I love you like Jeffrey.
I love you like John.
I love you like Luka.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
ha ha!
a ha ha ha ha ha ha!
sorry... i sometimes
get the giggles...
you know that jeffrey dahmer
biopic?
ha ha ha ha!
i'm laughing,
because i'm authentically just curios...
who was the inspiration
for the film,
Napoleon Dynamite?
who?!
ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
are, you, sure,
that Jeffrey Dahmer wasn't the muse
are you, sure?!
ha ha ha ha!
doubt it...
seriously doubt it...
NA(H)PO(H)LEO(N)
DYNAMITE...
what a "vague" similarity...
with a Jeffrey Dahmer...
**** it... let's go full **** -
DJ REBEL & MAHOMBI
ft. SHAGGY...
but... ha ha ha!
i love the fact that Napoleon
Dynamite was borrowed
from... ha ha!
ah ha ha ha!
the Milwaukee cannibal!
please tell me
when Albert Fish pops up...
esp. with the scene of
injecting needles
into his groin
before sitting on the electric chair:
i'm guessing for the added
O in gasping for...
anything but air.
it's still sinking in...
it's nighttime and i'm...
seriously trying to avert laughing
out-loud...
how there's connection...
reciprocal points
of
vested interest culminating in
pristine Abel...
and his shadow, Cain...
now...
if Jeffrey Dahmer wasn't the inspiration
for Napoleon Dynamite?
then Pinocchio elongating nose...
wasn't the basis for a *****
i must always be wrong,
it would seem.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 7:59 PM UTC
*His lips press against my neck
My hair stands on end and my fists clinch tight
His arms rap around my chest like a straitjacket
He is rough in all the right ways
He pushes me against the wall
His breath warms the back of my neck
I feel him slowly turn me around to face him
His soft hands wrap around my waist so gently
I look deep into his light brown eyes
His eyes pull me toward him like an inescapable gravitational field
The space between us grows ever smaller
My mind is racing at the speed of light
Our lips touch for the first time
My mind freezes
My body goes numb and is then filled with a warming since of passion and love
Are lips feel like two puzzle pieces that were made to fit together
I finally understand what the perfect kiss feels like
This perfect moment is stopped by a screeching noise followed by a bone shacking vibration
I wake up to my life and get ready for work* -Jeffrey Sutter
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 10:08 PM UTC
Hello, good sir.
How dee do?
It sure is nice to meet ya.
I think that I'll have *** with you
and then I'll prob'ly eat ya.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
jeffrey robin...jeffrey robin
quit your sobbin'
it's jeffrey robin
jeffrey robin
that ole hobgoblin
you'll have no problem
if you love jeffrey robin
(TO BE REPEATED, WHILE
JOYOUSLY DANCING
TIL ONE COMES
TO THE INEVITABLE
ENLIGHTENMENT
AND INNER PEACE)
Jun 25, 2010
Jun 25, 2010 at 2:08 PM UTC
*I tell her that I forgive her as I look into her eyes
She looks at me and smiles assured that the lie I just told her was the truth
I tell myself it’s the truth as lying to myself is the only way I can muster up the courage to say it
I hold her close as I think about the lie I have just told
I tell myself I just need more time
I tell myself that it’s her fault I can’t forgive her
Many years pass as I hold on to the hatred and anger I have in my heart for her
I look in the mirror and see nothing but a hurt child refusing to let go of the past
I convince myself that letting the anger go will mean letting her go
I reach the edge of the dam and look across at the vast river of hate I have allowed to flow into my heart
I tell myself that it’s time to let it all go
I open the gates and allow myself to cry
The feelings of anger flow out of me like a raging river roaring down a mountain after the first snow melt
I can finally start to forgive
I can finally tell her I forgive her*
-Jeffrey Sutter
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 8:36 PM UTC
Inhumane was said
Six million dead
Gassed,slaughtered
Degraded
Inhumane we dare
At Jeffrey Dahmer
Kidnapper, killer
Evil embalmer
Inhumane it read
Black man dead
Dragged by his feet
Decapitated
Inhumane we say
A young man who's gay
Found bound,beaten
Left dead in the hay
Inhumane we cry
As so many die
In crumbled buildings
From terror in the sky
Inhumane
I hear say
But only humans
Act this way
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 6:26 PM UTC
*Another night left alone to ponder my life,
Another night to dream of a life that is not mine,
The darkness thickens around me as I try and grasp what my life has lead up to,
My mind spins uncontrollably as I contemplate the decisions I made,
I sit under the one poorly lit light left in my world,
As it flickers on and off each time threatening to never come back on,
Time is continuously wasted by my obsession to figure out what it all means,
And in this chaotic time of my life,
That’s when it hits me like the bolt of a rifle slamming into a bullet,
I know who I am inside,
I have always known,
My mind has been tricked,
Weighed down by the unforgiving nature of our society,
The flickering light in which I sit under burns brighter than ever,
Now not only lighting up the small corner I sit in but the whole room,
With the path I need to take finally lit by not a flickering light but by the sun,
I am finally ready to stand up* -Jeffrey Sutter
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 1:10 PM UTC
i was walkin across centrsl park one night when all a suddenly was 75,000 green berets charging
with bayonets flashing in the moonlight screaming "death to da hippie dog jeffrey, death to da hippie dog jeffrey!"
what chumps!
but!!!!!!
i ALMOST felt compassion for them which woulda distracted an thus kilt me
but i overcome
there was a burst a light from inside
an i continued walkin home
lettin them was responsible take it if they chose to
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
Take a group of chimpanzees
used to swinging through the trees,
and sit them down at keyboards in a row;
lots of paper, lots of ink,
lots and lots of time, I think,
and what the theory says I’m sure you know.
Yes, along with all the junk,
all the gibberish and bunk,
somewhere there’d be the full works of the Bard:
As You Like It, Cymbeline,
Richards 2 and 3, the Dream,
though Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, might be hard.
But I’m sure the little blighters
would get on fine with *Titus
Andronicus*, The Taming of the Shrew,
The Moor of Venice (that’s Othello),
the other Merchant fellow,
and Antony and Cleopatra too.
The Winter’s Tale would hold no terrors,
nor The Comedy of Errors,
and Verona’s Gentlemen would turn out right;
Love’s Labour might be Lost,
or it might be Tempest-tossed,
but All’s Well That Ends Well, even on Twelfth Night.
Lear, King John, and Much Ado,
Henry 4, parts 1 and 2,
Henry 5, and 6 (in three parts), Henry 8,
Troilus, Timon, Measure for Measure,
Pericles (a neglected treasure)
and how Romeo and Juliet met their fate;
all the Sonnets, and the ****
of Lucrece* (typed by an ape!)
and if they worked for ever and a day
they could fit in Julius Caesar,
that Coriolanus geezer,
the Wives of Windsor, and the Scottish play.
I grew more and more excited –
even thought I might be knighted
if I could be the one to make it work.
But to realise my dream
I had to try a pilot scheme,
to prove I wasn’t just a reckless berk.
I bought one chimp from the zoo -
didn't have the cash for two -
and gave him a typewriter, just to try
for a short while. Well, a fortnight
was the time-scale that I thought right.
You see, I’m quite an optimistic guy.
Now everyone who heard
of my project said, “Absurd!”
when I told them of my striking new departure.
“Get a chimpanzee to type
the works of Shakespeare? Oh, what tripe!”
Still … he did produce the works of Jeffrey Archer.
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
she wanted to be
a killer bee
so she honeyed up servant girls
and placed them under
the fruit trees
but upon severing the stinger
a bee loses it's lust
so she left them to the bugs
and took on a bigger love
for pins and needles
and fingernails and a pale face
laced with pain
when they scream she shivers and asks
them to say her name again
when she was still young
her husband taught her necks break
if you bend them back fast enough
eyes go blind if you cut them
crisply across the iris
peasants can go missing and
no one will ever know
god help the ruthless mistakes
nobility makes
dorian gray in her mirror today
****** erzebet kissed the servant girls
like jeffrey's boy with the hole in his skull
she must have looked beautiful
in the moonlight coming through
the dungeon grates
and they finally found out
bricked over the windows
left a slit for food
minotaur in his maze
she thought she'd show off
for her funeral
but she is alone
the bodies decay
now she is a killer bee
in a cage
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 10:37 PM UTC
Some has been anointed.
Some has been appointed.
Still I doubt they understand the power of God.
Then again, they just might.
Genesis lay out God's plans explicitly.
Just by speaking things THEY came to be.
He created heaven.
He created earth.
He formed it.
He molded it.
And with his Spirit moved upon the waters.
And God said, Let there be light.
Just by mentioning the word, it came to be.
And God said, Let there be firmament in the midst of the waters.
Just the mentioning of words, things came to be.
Of course, there's more to, what he spoke?
Just to know, God said it.
And it appeared shows the power of his strength.
And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be placed together.
And it was so.
Just writing a poem about things people heard.
But never read Genesis to truly know.
And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass and various other things.
And that came to be.
Who doubt God?
Probably doubt many things.
Just by mentioning mere words our earth came into existence.
God deserves to be heard.
And He don't ever seek the attention.
It's there for us to see.
We should magnify God with proudness.
Even if its before an Atheist.
God's not offended, if they don't know.
He have found many amongst them that didn't know.
Glory,be to God.
Copyrighted by Jeffrey T Conyers
Note: It wasn't written to offend anyone. PEACE.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 10:34 AM UTC
Wacky Writing Ranger
I'm a wacky writing ranger,
living the life of a stranger.
Got my pen and my paper,
I write what I want,
doesn't matter size of font,
my warped mind will find a new caper.
Writing rhymes since I was forty,
no woman ever called me shorty.
Money, what the hell is that,
it's everyone else's wallets getting fat.
My mouth is dry, fingers are numb,
even with a talent, I'm still a lazy ***
I *** big holes in my wall,
inside the house, I play too much ball.
I have eggs with my breakfast toast,
Jeffrey Ross, where is my comedy roast.
A life filled with agony,
writing keeps my sanity.
From New Jersey to Florida,
living with my woman named Laura.
Hundreds of hearts earn my name,
can't even count the one night stands,
listening to all my favorite 80's hair bands,
all the groupies are just the same.
I've worked and had a paying job,
Bob spelled backwards is still Bob.
Left Jersey so far behind,
for that Florida weather grind.
Writing is in my blood to stay,
I don't care about the lack of pay.
I'm a wacky writing ranger,
I live the life of a complete stranger.
Read this rhyme and follow it til the end,
Then maybe after you decide to die,
look down at all the people who will cry,
then maybe Edgar Allan Poe will be your friend.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
She’s walking this lonely road
Her passion turns to coal
The madness is taking over
The love thing is getting old
Her heart starts to shatter
As her truth start to unfold
Never realize she was selling her youth
For her gold
Her tattoos match her personality
They tell her they love her but here comes reality
She’s a *** she’s a **** she’s a masterpiece
But Picasso couldn’t live to stroke that catastrophe
-jeffrey A
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC