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I was takin' a trip out to LA
Toolin' along in my Chevrolet
Tokin' on a number and diggin' on the radio
Jes' as I cross the Mississippi line
I heard that highway start to whine
And I knew that left rear tire was about to go
Well the spare was flat and I got uptight
'Cause there wasn't a fillin' station in sight
So I jes' limped down the shoulder on the rim
I went as far as I could and when I stopped the car
It was right in front of this little bar
A kind of a redneck lookin' joint called the Dew Drop Inn
Well I stuffed my hair up under my hat
And told the bartender that I had a flat
And would he be kind enough to give me change for a one
There was one thing I was sure proud to see
There wasn't a soul in the place 'cept for him an' me
And he just looked disgusted an' pointed toward the telephone
I called up the station down the road a ways
And he said he wasn't very busy t'day
And he could have somebody there in jest 'bout ten minutes or so
He said now you jes' stay right where yer at and I didn't bother
Tellin' the durn fool
I sure as hell didn't have anyplace else to go
I just ordered up a beer and sat down at the bar
When some guy walked in an' said who owns this car
With the peace sign the mag wheels and four on the floor
Well he looked at me and I **** near died
And I decided that I'd jus wait outside
So I layed a dollar on the bar and headed for the door
Jes' when I thought I'd get outta there with my skin
These five big dude come strollin' in
With this one old drunk chick and some fella with green teeth
An' I was almost to the door when the biggest one
Said you tip your hat to this lady son
An' when I did all that hair fell out from underneath
Now the last thing I wanted was to get into a fight
In Jackson Mississippi on a Saturday night
'Specially when there was three of them and only one of me
Well they all started laughin' and I felt kinda sick
And I knew I'd better think of somethin' pretty quick
So I jes' reached out an' kicked ol' green-teeth right in the knee
He let out a yell that'd curl your hair
But before he could move I grabbed me a chair
And said watch him folks 'cause he's a thouroughly dangerous man
Well you may not know it but this man's a spy
He's an undercover agent for the FBI
And he's been sent down here to infiltrate the Ku Klux ****
He was still bent over holdin' on to his knee
But everyone else was lookin' and listenin' to me
And I layed it on thicker and heavier as I went
I said would you beleive this man has gone as far
As tearin' Wallace stickers off the bumpers of cars
And he voted for George McGoveren for president
Well he's a friend of them long-haired hippie type ***** ****
I betcha he's even got a ****** flag
Tacked up on the wall inside of his garage
He's a snake in the grass I tell ya guys
He may look dumb but that's jus a disguise
He's a mastermind in the ways of espionage
They all started lookin' real suspicious at him
And he jumped up an' said jes' wait a minute Jim
You know he's lyin' I've been livin' here all of my life
I'm a faithfull follower of Brother John Burch
And I belong to the Antioch Baptist Church
And I ain't even got a garage you can call home and ask my wife
Then he started sayin' somethin' 'bout the way I was dressed
But I didn't wait around to hear the rest
I was too busy movin' and hopin' I didn't run outta luck
And when I hit the ground I was makin' tracks
And they were jes' takin' my car down off the jacks
So I threw the man a twenty an' jumped in an' fired that mother up
Mario Andretti woulda sure been proud
Of the way I was movin' when I passed that crowd
Comin' out the door and headin' toward me in a trot
An' I guess I shoulda gone ahead an' run
But somehow I couldn't resist the fun
Of chasin' them jes' once around the parkin' lot
Well they're headin' for their car but I hit the gas
And spun around and headed them off at the pass
Well I was slingin' gravel and puttin' a ton of dust in the air
Well I had them all out there steppin' an' a fetchin'
Like their heads were on fire and their ***** was catchin'
But I figured I oughta go ahead an split before the cops got there
When I hit the road I was really wheelin'
Had gravel flyin' and rubber squeelin'
An' I didn't slow down 'til I was almost to Arkansas
I think I'm gonna re-route my trip
I wonder if anybody'd think I'd flipped
If I went to LA via Omaha!
jeffrey robin Sep 2013
The great guru come an all the little boys an girls become angels or saints or whatever

But some jes ignored the creep and went to college an got drunk and now owe millions a dollars to the government and got married
And are miserable little scummy people who vote for ******* and thieves and complain about it

And the angels jes float around talkin a peace an that **** but do look happy I don't know it's all strange here makin no sense at all

But I jes watch wait an do nothin much about anything



Then I seen all the dumb high school ******* dickin wit their razor blades and ****** fire hydrants or something so weird
Whatever!

It got me mad with myself sittin an laughing I
Don't know
I decided to be a saint an float around but I don't speak a peace but a yer friggin insanity an plead wit ya ta knock  it da ******* it ain't necessary but ya say it is so keep on doin it if ya feel like it I gotta go it alone if yer so **** complacent about it ya know what I mean?

It a great life if ya live
But if ya don't
It's jes a joke

Wit no one laugh at it
Ya know what I mean?
jeffrey robin Sep 2011
sorry charlie
it dont mean a thing
(feelin sorry)
the babe done gone
...where?...
jes to get away
jes to be free
_
sorry charlie
life aint
"the game bein played"
you play it well
she dont care
__
starvin on the street aint cool
either is survivin
sorry charlie
shed rather be dead
than to hang with you
_
sorry charlie
it dont mean a thing
(feelin sorry)
the babe done gone
...where?...
jes to get away
jes to be free
jeffrey robin Aug 2010
hey hey hey
hey humos done
an a
hey biggie jiggie
an the bulgine run

now here sits me
on me broken knees

singin
"hey biggie jiggie
an the bulgine run"
--------------

when they called out the names
in the ole town square

and we looked so proud
though we all were scared

but we weren't ones to jes walk away
even from a war  had no reason
------
hey hey hey
hey humos done
an a
hey biggie jiggie
an the bulgine run

now here sits me
on me broken knees

singin
"hey biggie jiggie
an the bulgine run"
--------------

years have come
and then did go

pain last long
an healin is slow

i always remembeer
those few years a youth

that they stole
from me so easily
---------

now i don't blame anyone but
me
the hero of my own ****** dream

instead of raisin a family
i try best i can
jes to walk the street----
--------

hey hey hey
hey humos done
an a
hey biggie jiggie
an the bulgine run

now here sits me
an me broken knees

singin
"hey biggie jiggie
an the bulgine run"
--------------
onlylovepoetry May 2016
wondrous words,
shades of colorations,
this pain,
artfully slow, steady stalking,
finale staking into
my hardened heart

with tireless twinges
of loss and constant regret,
painstakingly plinking away,
leaving pockmarks of bullets shot
at the concrete ring-fencing,
failing to protect me from just another,

oh god not again,
have no mo' time

for jes one mo' time

love's aftermath regret,
bitter acid wash,
that cleanses nothing,
for you are already nothing
when love loss wrenches/rents your
soul's garments with knotholes of
unfashionable distressed
distress

better not to have loved,
better, better, better,

than this battering silent hurricane
invisible thunderstorm internally,
than respects no seasonality,
for which the meteorologists
can predict neither its path or its
final cessation

painstakingly,
did I build my walled shelter,
only to fail-fall to the siege machines
of beauty and desire,
and
once conquered,
with fire and heat,
they burnt me
from the outward edges inward,
and I am not a
Phoenix


see the stooped slow white walker
more than dead, yet alive enough
existing to be witness to
his own devouring,
his hands wrapped round
the stake in his chest stuck,
painstakingly
protecting it,
lest its removal
be one more undoing of the
painstaking man
jeffrey robin May 2013
Well

Ya cud jes keep ta yer lame excuses!

Probly what yell do!
Like always !

wol me important? ****  no!
--

Jes watching !
Jes observin!

NOT doin
Got it?

---

Nobody doin nuttin
Das me
----

Leeme alone
Alone!
----
-------
-----
_
I usta be important but I got hurt tryin
I usta be important but I got hurt tryin
I can't get hurt no more !

I done stopped tryin

Ya see!
--

Ain't important no more
Not me
Ain't important no more
Not me

Not me

No more
-----------

WELL WELL WELL
--

Wa you mean
You ain't important no more!

Shut da **** up and get offa
Yer lame *** or I show ya what's important

Dat for sure!
Jeffrey Robin Apr 2016
... before they threw your sorry as in jail )


:::

Yeah


Bad karma --

It's coming to us all




( even the white kids ---


Yeah

Even the white kids who can write

Poetry ! )

)(


WHY ?

::

Because we decided that it's ok to be stupid

Is why !

)) ((

The stranger's song

It's the holiest one


The simple  god is found

So very easily


Jes like I found you

And you found me

""""

( beyond the superficial romance
true love is found )

:::

The long year

You were always waiting

I didn't see you til yesterday



I don't get it ----- I said

So (?) ------ she replied

""

Their shall be many murders

In the days ahead

::

Should we tell the kids ?

)(

Don't worry !

Be happy !

)(

She walks the wild night with me

You can join us if you want



.
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2016
~~~


in a four lion pawed,
old fashion
bathtub,
soaping and playing
with my two boys,
then, young children,
splish splashing,
playing games,
a wet version of capture the flag,
the winner gets to scrub someone else's back
with a flag
of the slipperest bar of soap,
ever,
in a game we called,

catch the cockroach cuckoo

***.

the floor is totally soaked,
your mom's gonna **** someone,
the bath mat weighing now 'bout five pounds,
not including the no tears shampoo that miraculously
is bubbling up from it,
an actual
groundswell of
shining eyes

and oh crap,

your pj's!
on the floor!

we all gotta go hide real quick
in the crazy better-be-on-high dryer,
more happy shouting, tumbling,
to get them and
our selves
back to a
ready-to-wear- state,
with a wearable, Johnson & Johnson sham-poo,
sweet-smelling encasing,
ready to be swept beneath a talcum powdery snow-angel coverlet,
into a slippery ready-to-sleep state

"quit all that screaming you guys,"

a piercing late entrant
to our Las Vegas gaming bath~table,
heard through the door,
deserving of a ten second
almost silenced,
fearful, giggled appreciation

then some one sang out

catch the cockroach cuckoo

and the fun and games recommence,
all of us,
soap search engines,
began again,
fully reenergized

don't gotta clue,
why this old fool fills
his memory sac this day,
with this silly,
refried-ain't-worth-a-hill-of-beans
peyote poem-visions from
decades older(1)

nowadays, he still plays,
still a super soaker bath man,
reliving old-fashioned soapy games
with a new Kingston trio,
me, myself and I,

and still hearing voices,
absent and present,
coming thru the walls

"you making a mess in there? better quiet down!"

but today's voices heard
are from within born,
not real,
an updated, revised recollection of the
went, and now,
gone gone gone

these voice now mocking the messes made
of bathrooms and
lives,
his own,
and the other players,
their lives
that this man sealed and help fashion,
for better and some,
for worse

and the
updated "better quiet down" sound heard,
well, that's jes me trying
to convince the too familiar new trio,
that the
harmonies of that vision,
ain't real
no more

and he finds-the-soap game
nowadays,
can't give you relief,
cannot remove,
the uncleansed residue of them
other
oldest soap **** guilty memories,
consisting of too many undisclosed,
then, unrealized mistakes,
that any parent,
all parents,
or this particular parent,
raises up,
seals and makes


~~~
5:21pm
1/30/16 NYC

(1) I subsequently realized that Pandora
played Crosby, Still and Nash singing
"teach your children well.
their father's hell,
will slowly go by"
Ken Pepiton Apr 2018
there are others like me I see. Lost as I was.
So
What could I do to ease their fretting,
would I be comforted?  No.
Back then,
no.
I refused the comforter
*** outchacom'fit zone
Oh, they be hell to pay,

-----
among the ideas that possess men,
there are tells,
among the men of both varieties possessed by or of
(as you shall see, it may be both) ideas ,
there are tells, twitches and ticks and unconscious daemons sorting
sayings
aphorisms, proverbs,
memes 'n' such.
Confusion sayin'
H.R. Puffin'stuff, that neveh me'nt a thang. Jes't aname anime annie mae, where's
annie mae moved to okinawa wa wa wa

Imps. Pulses of them flow through heare…
(those slips shall hereafter be known as di-sensical-utterences or dsu, in writing. i.e. here and hear, he-are, heare, here is heard hear and means something else, intensionally. We, augmented Adamkind of all kinds, can inject meaning at will.)

commonly on Sunday mornings,
though I doubt the impulses
have a calendar that might map to any ex- or im-
I'm never sure what goes properly with perience.
Prior to the trial, experience is so limited,
I'm going with perience, in and of itself,
perience is plenty. Ex-cepting,
you know, the lessons learned,
those have earned their proper
nomenclature.
Those are experience.
Lesson learned.
Twixt thee and me is no more mix-up,
idiot-syncrecy fused with two-mind
hate of knowing and unknown;
we know what experience really means to us.

We are bound in syncret oath sealed with shibboloths in unutterable names.
As it is written in the law of Moses,

"all this evil is come upon us:
yet made we not our prayer before YHWH our God,
that we might turn from our iniquities,
and understand thy truth. 
Therefore hath YHWH watched upon the evil,
and brought it upon us:
for YHWH our God is righteous in all his works which he doeth:
for we obeyed not his voice.

From <http://biblehub.com/kjv/daniel/9.htm>
Shame that such once breathed thoughts threading pearls and jade,
or was that chalcedony? - scatter when the thread breaks
. Shame, such thoughts, frail as smoke.
Sanctity sanity sanctify sanity,

We think such thoughts. Fragile spokes.
Sanctity sanity sanctify sanity,
time and time again,
what I called holy in my darkness, is holy in my light.


Words that lose the sacred salt are calcereous
grains of time, dust memes in the sun,
launched by centuries of tramping feet.
'haps the highest parts of the dust of the earth ever.
Oh,
how the masters love mastery of mystery.
"The old man on the mountain, he knew if he lied."
You, the observer of it all,
know.

"you knew nothing of my work"
"have a think"
"never thirst, imagine standing under knowing that"
Voices, the walls heard, stones speak, historically speaking
happens all the time, a frequency lock prevents it bleeding into now, but that becomes tyranny, believe me.

The ideas that possess men and provoke good works
or big, power-consumptive,

tale-swallowing feats,
those ideas are servants.
lacking any knowledge of good and evil,
such ideas are everywhere,
men who know say so. None of this was done in secret.
Twisted minds twist servant to slave labor. Magi-minds,
high-minded, relative to the belly-crawlers and creeping things,
see servant as tool and teacher. Same idea.
The original ideas we have to deal with.
They were seen to be good, by God.
There are no bad ideas, there are bad actions caused by mad ideas locked to single mindless anger impulses so callused as to appear gigantic,
certainly so, when they are known to lurk under beds and in selfish old men.
"Dark sayings, dear reader, pro fess pro verbs, action words snip "No lie is of the truth" snip
the lie and loose listing truth to the wind.
Who told you that inheriting the wind was like inheriting nothing?
You. You troubled your own house and you inherited the wind.
You came not to bring peace, but a sword…

The good news. Inheriting the wind is inheriting everything that ever matters, all the power in heaven and in earth was how simpler minds imagined shaping the idea.
Idyll minds, the devil's workshop, eh?
Comfort thought.
Who told you desiring comfort was a ***** thing?
Same voice went real deep and whispered,
"What price glory? Eh, pilgrim?"
stop. think

Sweet, for instance,
sweet, as an idea, can **** the man who makes it the basis of his value calculations.
Shame, came to prevent such impinging on subroutines intent on manifesting destiny,
as the sweet little ones imagined forevers in their pioneer-daze plays.
Shame is not blamed for being known,
the lying spirit who spoke with forked tongue,
sweet
little people, please, believe my lie,
there is a reason why
I know

There. Message in a bottle.
If you know what you know.
Messenger is what angel means, right? right. Who asks? Who knows?
No. I know you know this is
purposefully useful for
helping
crazy ideas
come back to some sem-sym-balance beneath the branches of the tree of knowledge, nestled in the twisting roots,
golden eggs, oh, far,
far
beyond Faberge, I must say. These, you must see to believe.
Any feedback reflecting enjoyment or confusion, please. This is a chapter from my book "Judging Angels" a memoir. Would you read such a book?
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2014
Joe wants to know
how'm I doing?

an innocuous query,
little can he know,
bye bye is my merry,
marooned on a skerry,
noxious fumes in the aerie,
currently inhabiting  my foreheady,
worry waves, rolling thunderous tides,
have myself beside

thus the answer to your toll,
something bad, on me, got a hold

Joe,
life is,
more than a tad
concerting

concerting?

surely you meant
converging, or perhaps,
concatenating, or concaving?
discombobulating, or more likely,
plain ole disconcerting?

indeed, all of the above,
fit like a glove,
but best combinated in steaming mug of
concerting

"to contrive or arrange by agreement: to plan; devise"

the world is secret contriving,
the world is secret devising,
a plan for my demising,
forces are concerting re me...
most concerning,
as trends converging,
concave hollow chains clinking,
a concatenating chorus
voicing their displeasure,
at my happy existence,
which now gone,
its loss, wept for, in great measure

life dissing me, in a manner
concerting and dis-concerting,
my composure,
decomposing,
the ides of depression,
hip hop discombob-
(undu)lating throb
but then again,
what's in a word,
what's in a rhyme,
jes that old timey R&B;,
rhyming and blues,
of a verbal kind

so, Joe, how'm I doing?

now that you are knowing,
as men of distinguished letters,
students of history,
part time poets,
Your Reply
must only be:

"Oh no, Natty,
say it ain't so"
http://www.thisdayinquotes.com/2009/09/it-ain-so-joe-actually-wasnt-so.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shoeless_Joe_Jackson


Skerry: a skerry is a small rocky island, too small for habitation; it may simply be a rocky reef.
Aerie:   any habitation at a high altitude
Concatenating:  to link together; unite in a series or chain.
Combinated: poetic license
Concaving: hollow and curved
Discombobulating: to confuse or disconcert; upset; frustrate
Dissing: to show disrespect for; affront. to disparage; belittle.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2017
Those old comments from the disappeared with no names,
no faces, just a large gray dot and two -- anonymous*




<•>

Those old comments
live on, unremoved,
from the disappeared ones,
no faces, no names
a large gray dot and
two -- anonymous dashes

a most contemporary kind of disregarding,
disregard-me, frak you, cause I disregarded you first,
funeral pyre ******* gesture,
where only your face was consumed,
but your words live on forever. ...  
congrats, in this day and age,
you, managed to get in the last word

who were you?
why was it necessary to leave?
while your comments, pithy,  
cheddar sharp, meaningful,
of just a plain old prdinary
wow,
tender precious to me
drive me now to simple
madness gladness sadness
failing to yes, to be recalling
who you were/are

were you stalked, trolled, gored,
or just bored
with the word-gaming,
needy for some well constructed avatars
desirous for ****** machine gun killing?

did you heart break one last time
into one million parts too many
you did not believe, didn't trusted me enough,
to heal the cuts and paste
you together like I did previously,
no more one more time?

did you get
transmigrated,
move beyond and out of
London and Minneapolis, Katmandu?

win the lottery,
get parental sent away,
super jetting wealthy,
married, divorced, soul lost,
unhealthy in complete privacy,
up and left the poems of we
poor sods behind,
on your way to Monaco or Singapore?

did I offend beyond any mending?
gladly would have kissed you knees,
written a poem just to tickle you pink
or whatever color you so desired but that
gray grey cream dot not,
that makes your disappearing act,
twice as a pain-full, a banner unfurled of,
you pick the word

was I too sweet, too kind, cloyingly annoying
driving you crazy with my midnight clockwork
"jes' me checking in on you"
one liner messages,
go one message too far?

how we conversed, holy roman dialogues
till one day and hadn't heard and
chagrin uncovered no more souling
we two, ragging and consoling,
on each others nonsense,
cause
you cloaked a name in deliberate invisibility!

well ha on you I am lying,
I will know your name, your face,
your funny way of signing off
when fate sits us side by side
on some long plane ride

you will watch me tap on my tablet
in letters so big you won't struggle to read over my shoulder,
the poem I will write for you / just one more
for just you

and I'll see reflection of your turned away head
in the plexiglass window smiling and tearing,
while I hum some Carole King sad love songs

you will salty say
to wound and to love
cause ain't no difference:
now

you're still an idiot,
write way too long
and forget to put the title in, on -- whatever*

and I will nod also,
in that idiotic identical
tonality of whatever,
in holy poem agreement
not saying much, just
tapping grey --
the rest of the way till we land,
thinking mostly about all the gray grey shades and shadows
in that dashed word,
whatever--



9:27pm 10-5-no jive
"Now And Forever"
ny Carole King
Now and forever, you are a part of me
And the memory cuts like a knife
Didn't we find the ecstasy, didn't we share the daylight
When you walked into my life

Now and forever, I'll remember
All the promises still unbroken
And think about all the words between us
That never needed to be spoken

We had a moment, just one moment
That will last beyond a dream, beyond a lifetime
We are the lucky ones
Some people never get to do all we got to do
Now and forever, I will always think of you

Didn't we come together, didn't we live together
Didn't we cry together
Didn't we play together, didn't we love together
And together we lit up the world

I miss the tears, I miss the laughter
I miss the day we met and all that followed after
Sometimes I wish I could always be with you
The way we used to do
Now and forever, I will always think of you
Now and forever, I will always be with you
r May 2014
A little of dis,
little of dat,
chop-chopped
to tasty portions
perfectly spread
and  contortioned
simmerin' sin
stir-fried jes right.

r 5/31/14
\•/\
   |
  / \
jeffrey robin Oct 2011
sometimes ya gets angry
sometimes ya jes stay stupid
.
sometimes ya let anger control ya
sometimes ya control anger
and change the world
-----
sometimes ya get selfish
and jes try change yer own life
.
this is the same as stayin stupid
Wk kortas Sep 2018
They’d found him, emaciated and tick-ridden,
Down near the docks on Smith Boulevard,
Surrounded by several fellow tabbies
Possessed of the apparent inclination to disregard any taboo
Enjoining them from enjoying one of their own as a hors d’oeuvre.
He’d weighed no more than eight pounds or so,
Closer to six if you scraped off the mats and vermin,
But he’d gotten over that in short order,
As his diet consisted of fried chicken livers
And any bits of tuna sandwich his owner might leave lying about
(Though Jerry Kiley was not a small man himself,
And philosophically opposed to the notion of leftovers as well)
So before long he became utterly Falstaffian
(As Father Maguire from Sacred Heart tut-tutted,
Why, that tom is three stone if he’s an ounce;
He gets any larger, and I’ll have to insist
You kick another two bits into the plate
)
And Kiley had to fashion him a bed from a milk crate
Buttressed with sheet metal
Taken from a vat at the old Beverwyck Brewery.

He’d lived well (Better ‘n me, Jerry often lamented)
Though too well, perhaps,
And he’d fallen prey to the maladies of the leisure classes:
Gout, diabetes, a wheezing which sounded for all the world
Like distant cows lowing in a fairly stiff breeze.
The vet had given him any number of pills and potions,
But it all was no match for his appetite,
And he’d ended up taking the gas before he turned five.

It was decided, in the course of conversation and consolation
At the North Albany legion post bar,
That such a kind and devoted soul
Deserved a send off befitting a noble gent.
A collection was scraped together in short order,
And a viewing-***-wake took place at Jack’s Lunch
(Just up Broadway from Jerry’s place.)
Vittles Tuomi made a jerry-built coffin
Fashioned from the now-vacant cat bad,
And John Itzo snagged some fake flowers and a crepe-paper bird
From the brim of his wife’s old hat
(They being perched on a can of tuna soldered to the box
With the intent of nourishing him on his trip to the afterlife,
Jes’ like the pharaohs, according to Vittles.)
As the services progressed, some of the boys floated the notion
That the guest of honor should (under the cover of darkness, natch)
Be interred at St. Patricks, but Father Maguire,
Attending the do as the feline’s ex officio spiritual advisor,
Gently reminded the prospective pallbearers
That His Grace the Bishop had denied burial in consecrated ground
For lesser offenses, and it was finally decided that burial
(It was assumed that he’d been responsible
For an unknown number of progeny, and it was also rumored
That he had a brother or twelve up in Watervliet)
Would be private and at the convenience of the family.
(AUTHOR’S NOTE:  This piece, such as it is, is built on the foundation of
an anecdote entitled “Langford, Prominent Cat, Dies” which appears in William Kennedy’s Riding the Yellow Trolley Car.  The anecdote is pithy and witty; this piece certainly is not the former and most likely comes up short on the latter.)
jeffrey robin Jun 2014
//::::\                 //::::\
   #   •                         #  •  
<>                            <>

/                                       ( • )   ( • )                                      \

/
/    
/\    
/    \    

All or nothin

Don't be a ******* cow yer whole life !

Chewing away !



Paw ! Paw !  Paw !



****** me body and I'll say I loves ya !

••

Ain't got no pride now
Has ya ?

••

Crown of creation ?

Me friggin **** !

Ya hang with da goof-birds
Pretend you are flyin

Ya no longer dyin
Cause yer already dead

HOW I KNOW THIS ?

( i just been readin yer poetry )

••

Hey hey

The truths bustin  loose

The new love is here

Beyond all deception

You can be free
If that's your intention

Or maybe ya like the grass that YE eat

And all the cow patties below yer feet !
Path Humble Jun 2014
Introduction
_____

some words
chase you around
infiltrating and winking,
in emails and poems to
your attention dispatched
undeniably messaging
a wanting to be
realized, completed,
teasingly speaking

you know
a poem newly birthing
in your left brain,
tender pleading,
love me already,
just write me
like you would
make love to a woman!"

messages from others employ
the self-same word r e p e a t e d l y,
you start to get the hint
very very v i g o r o u s l y

the rumbling,
the back-seat tumbling,
you're driving
bipedal composing,
guitar and piano
gas and brake
pedals to the mettle,
and the speed limit
was 15 mph under
where your brain is fermenting

all tuning you up to
meet the guild's
product quality standards,
yet unlike an automobile,
a poem, like a life,
has a unique DNA,
cannot just be
recalled,
for repair
and additional tinkering,
jes' because
once it is out there,
it has been outed

sure enough in my
my "started but ***" file,
a lazy layabout,
overlooked and undercooked,
the poem below,
a dabble and a muddle,
so ignored, so berefted
for so long
it got this
special introduction
by way of an apology....

Incarnate**

She is my poem incarnate
She is the carne of my body
She is the innate of my soul
She is my woman incarnate

she is all I need
in form realized and invisible imagined,
angel and thank god,
devil as well...
For p.c.
jeffrey robin Sep 2013
It jes me an da boys
---
We romp stomp
Run amok


Me an da boys
-----

Erryone say

Whatever DEY wants ta say

Truth?

**** day ****

DEY say

(Cause DEY wants ta say it!)
••

Me an da boys

DEY gonna come try

**** our sorry *****

Next week

(Dats what I think)

••

Next week

World war three

Will be here an you probably dyin

---

Big ****** deal

You cryin out

---

YE gonna say it with the mud in your mouth!

We'll see
Won't we  !

••

Jes me an you an DEY boys!

Little flesh toys

Dead on the street!

Yeah I mean

You an me
Whats to say that all the familiar memories
Of a long time ago and of just yesterday are
Not made up whole just a waking moment
Ago.  Who is to say the lone dreamer asks
Himself what is the truth.  As it seems to
me a great man once said: The dream marks
Were always there to see.  All the noise and
All the news; the cruel history of man to
Man; Forget thee not the holocaust; there
Is no God; and lies abound.  What is to be
Done?  To dream a better dream the great
Man said,said he was alone. Who's words
Are these is it you or I who is the stranger
Who is that man you ask.  It is the lone
Dreamer-Hi ** Silver and Blue and To
All a Good night.  He rides ever onward
Till Love be made perfect in the Kingdom
To come beyond this world to life ever
Lasting be it only his own; but
He will
Yet dream a better  dream for us all
Where we love Him as He loved us.
jeffrey robin Dec 2010
we aint done with it

we done jes begun

we aint afraid

-------

she done "fell in love"

she gone!

too bad!!

------------

from out any window

the street

yeh

the same one

---------

when ya hear the song

yer in the song

-----------

when ya sing

ya hear the song

----------

she breasted my hands
with purity

my ***** with decision

my life with all of you

---------

we aint done with it

we done jes begun

we are not afraid

no never

we are never afraid
jeffrey robin Jun 2014
((("""")))
•   •
)
<>
/
/    \
/\

••

HURRY HURRY
READ ALL ABOUT IT

REALITY !

( soon it's gone )

••

Hey !  Hey there !

I wanna know ( yeah yeah )

I wanna know

All about yer boy friend!
(Yeah yeah!)
All about yer girl friend !

How YE ****
Fight
**** and moan !!

Jes wanna know
( yeah)
Jes GOTTA know !

••

OH WELL

DON'T GOTTA WORRY BOUR REALITY NO MORE!

IT 'S GONE !

••


HURRY HURRY!

Cause

Pretty soon we too be gone !

Cept for some ***** and *******

Left scattered on the floor somewhere
jeffrey robin May 2013
What you doin girl?  I sez
--

Erry night
Out there

****** suckin run amuckin
Screamin yellin
never actually rebellin
--
Bashin yer head INTA brick walls
Tryin ta grab errybody boy by da *****!

Cuttin yer wrists with razor blades!
*******!
Yer full insane!

OH DAD!
YE KNOW IM JES TRYIN TA FIT IN WITH ME PEERS
LIKE YA TAUGHT ME TO
.
JEST LIKE YOU DO!

------
I put down my newspaper

Full a

Wars drone airplanes bombers
Bankers ******* rings and corrupt
Politicians bankers businessmen
You know

All the real things

And I thought

She's right

We all  
All of us

Just slaves!
Commuter Poet Jun 2016
Can’t please nobody
Whatever I do
Everyone got somethin’
To tell me, it’s true

People keep yellin’
"Do this!
Do that!
But don’t even
Think about
Goin’ near that!"

Can’t please nobody
Though I try and I try
Sometimes I wanna
Jes' lay down and die

"You’d betta think
‘Bout what you gon’ do
Coz everything
Gonna come right back
On you!"

Can’t please nobody
Whatever I say
But livin’ in chains
Jes' won’t win me the day

I’m gonna break out
And be who I choose
Even if doin so
Give me the blues

I am a man
Who gon’ live my life free
Voices keep yelling!
S’no **** thing to me

Can’t please nobody
Whatever I do
Everyone got somethin’
To tell me s’true
3rd June 2016
jeffrey robin Feb 2014
In the wild free ghetto night

Where would ya wanna be but here?

With god and the angels and love so bright!

I walk these streets in complete  awe

I'll be here walkin in a thousand years


••

Baby rockin in the cradle

Cradle rockin on the window sill

So very high above the street

••

Hey hey mama here come Jesus

Got a sack a loaves and fishes

Jes for you

••

Ain't lynched a cowboy from this tree in 100 years

But it gotta couple a negroes back in '63

••

Help help!!

I ain't suffering from affluenza

& I need some bad !

••

My face !

And most a you ain't seen it!

OH MY GOD!

••

A street lamp  is a beautiful symbol
Of

Somethin

                                            ­           (Over there -----

In the dark

By the alley where the stained old newspapers blow
Round and round

And little ragged boys curl up to sleep

••

Star light star bright

Thru the chem trails of the night

••

I mean

In the garden of Eden before the apple eatin

Didn't adam at least think eve had a cute ***?

••

In college we were supposed to write an essay on the differences between bein a priest and a professional wrestler but I couldn't think a nothin

••

In the wild free ghetto night

Where would ya wanna be but here ?

All the angels child bright

God is seen on every EYE

not afraid to shine or cry
Derpy Chip Nov 2014
I have a face
I have eyes
I have nose
I have ears
I have mouth
I have face
Jes
I'm sorry for wasting your time
jeffrey robin Jul 2010
i walkin down da street
a man jump out da alleyway
and
stab dat der man inna chest wit a ice pick!

dat man den run away!
dat der man....fall down!

da crowd come der
"why dat man lyin down so?" dey ask

(no-one unnerstans!)

den dat man come back!
says...."it's cause a da ice pick in his chest
he lie dere!"

an he reached down an yank
dat ice pick outa da man's chest!

"hurray, hurray!"
da crowd cheer

but dat der man he no get up!!!

"ungrateful *******!!!!!!!!"

so da crowd start kickin
dat der man!

whille dat other man walk away
to the cheers a da crowd!

now what i think is dis

dat it weren't JES da ice pick why he lie  dere!!!!

i think da ice pick DONE somethin to dat dere man!!!

SAY, WHAT DA YOU THINK?
am i ee Sep 2015
why'm ah ma embarrassed by
you rgalumphin'?

wud i care what
yo luggage do?


that didn't work,

why am i embarrased by
your....insert word here with
proper tense and conjucation

why do i care about what other people think???

still not workin,

jes put
stinkin "galumph" in the sentence...
and see how it works?

~~en fin fer sure with this stinkin mess of poem
~~~~~ n ya'll better really like this... at least lie a little to make my tender heart feel the light..

sorry lil word you aren't stinky , well not quite yet.




\guh-LUHMF\
verb
1. to move along heavily and clumsily.
Quotes
It is at this point that one begins to feel embarrassed while other passengers galumph by with their luggage.
-- Stephanie Rosenbloom, “Flying Deluxe Domestic Coast-to-Coast for Around $1,000,” New York Times, January 23, 2015
Origin
Galumph is a 19th century invention from the mind of Lewis Carroll, and is perhaps a blend of gallop and triumphant
wise question posed to me at the young age of 14....and why did i?  oh i don't know... karma...samskaras?
strange professions and true confessions from a lockdown town (4/17/20)
————————————————————————————-————-

not a great idea,
in the not-yet-dawn,
to write
a poem entitled
strange professions,
true confessions

dried stains of prior leakings
upon old ‘n yellowed linoleum,
no need for more friends,
for sure, for sure,
that’s the smart play

you see! right there
I’m professing age
old wisdom,
confessing my sorry face is
well acquainted with
floor coverings,
where even the
soles of my shoes
won’t admit they been polluted,

having stepped in rooms
of low and ill repute,
those them there,
right in here
poetry writing sites
where there ain’t no
guideposts, reminding
what’s in the heart
pretend stays in Vegas,
but what the heck,
since I’m here already,
might as well,
ready go and spill,
things you don’t
need to know but...

help the time pass
in this lockdown town,
where total silence is
the loudest sound around

wine, empty beery bottles,
bad rhymes give me up,
just before I start a hey look!
it’s a brand new
sunny rain afternoon

the governor pronounced
we all gotta be masked,
24/7 inside and out,
the women complain that it
musses hair, the men say,
who me? nah, got
nothing to say about that,
We, don’t make no con-cessions...

when you can’t see
my lips moving, or my
one good eye be winking,
means it’s likely that I’m lying

they say, I’m going
stir crazy,
not me says he,
unlike  some guy who
wanted to blow up the
Alice-in Wonderland statue in
Central Park, hell,
u could look it up!

guess I coulda call this
here epistle, official “Lockdown Blues,”
but I jes heard gotta stay inside
till June Seventeen
that’s the good news,
plenty o’time to set
my affairs in order,
burn the poems nobody
needs seeing, those them
there with weirdness galore,
say no more,

you can whine, it’s fine,
no caring, no hearing,
past way the point,
where running or returning
is an option viable for nut jobs

them, with strange professions
and true confessions...
https://patch.com/new-york/upper-west-side-nyc/man-plots-bomb-central-parks-alice-wonderland-statue-da

writ a month ago, and no end in sight for those who
die living in the epicenter of science and rationality,
we are still dying, no only a hundred per day,
that’s great, better than eight, or close enough
but seen the scenes, fever to drink, exchange words,
be sociable, but I’m old so kept under lock and key
ha! for my own protection and safety
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
Que Sera, Sera, Whatever will be

We are what we eat, what we absorb, what we take in,
this is mine,
I taste and find, mmmm, worth a chew, slow said
the voice,
of the caterpillar,
of course,
smoke rings,
from the smoke stack
on a D-9 Cat, stuck in the mud,
since November,
till summertime,

lowland realization, land too flat, don't drain.

I jes' set'n'look at that,
Chrome Yeller Caterpillar, worth more than I made,
in ten years after the army,

and I laugh, at how I ain't bound to fret,
or fuss,
no nonsense was ever actually more than literaturely true.
Que Sera, Sera, Whatever will be, was on the clipboard and got here before I made sense enough to stop it from wising off.
jeffrey robin Aug 2011
aint no "wait"
aint no "moderation"
aint no  "obama-nation!!!!!"
----
if ya aint gonna speak up
shut up!!!!!!
-----------------
aint no washington
aint no media
aint no professors
..
only you an me
finally
----------------
if ya aint gonna speak up
shut up!!!!!
...
----------------
if you wanna let em jes walk over you
until your dead
while moaning and groaning
bout your boy friends
er girl friends
who obviously
find you inanely ridiculous
....
?
?
?
____

aint no "wait"
aint no "moderation"
aint no "obama-nation"
...........

it's only you an me

an
revolution
----
Mike Essig Sep 2015
by Rudyard Kipling*

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
‘Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!'
      Come you back to Mandalay,
      Where the old Flotilla lay:
      Can't you ‘ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!

‘Er petticoat was yaller an' ‘er liggle cap was green,
An' ‘er name was Supi-yaw-lat–jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an ‘eathen idol's foot:
      Bloomin' idol made o' mud–
      Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd–
      Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed ‘er where she stud!
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd *** ‘er little banjo an' she'd sing ‘Kulla-lo-lo!'
With ‘er arm upon my shoulder an' ‘er cheek agin my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
      Elephints a'pilin' teak
      In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
      Where the silence ‘ung that ‘eavy you was ‘arf afraid to speak!
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!

But that's all shove be'ind me–long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no ‘busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' ‘ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
‘If you've ‘eard the East a-callin', you won't never ‘eed naught else.'
      No! You won't ‘eed nothin' else
      But them spicy garlic smells,
      An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly-temple -bells;
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted English drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty ‘ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin' but wot do they understand?
      Beefy face an' grubby ‘and–
      Law! Wot do they understand?
      I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;*
For the temple-bells are callin', and' it's there that I would be–
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the old Flotilla lay,
      With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!
Graff1980 Apr 2019
The sun brings
harsh rays
of today's
heated frustration,
hot footed
to the point
of burnt and flaking
skin,

dehydrated
to the point
of pale pallor,
a practically porcelain
face guarded by
the scratchy hay hat.

Dry desert madness
makes your mind
forget itself
as well as
all previous times.

No name,
no camel,
no water
only the illusion
of an oasis
waiting a thousand steps
outside of
each step
you take.

It shimmers
and fades,
moving in time
pressing itself
against the horizon
as you pursue
the fantasy
of what you would do
with all that water.

Drawn on
as the lie
overcomes your
hazy mind,

"Just one more step,

jes one more step,

jes one mer step,

jes one mer...."

till your body forgets
how to take
another step
and your falling,
sleeping as the wind sweeps
sheets of sand
above your body
where no will
ever find you.
ogdiddynash Jul 2019
twenteesventh.
you write of dismembered leaves,
enhaloed lust(***)
pains too sweet because they’re youthfully incomplete,
using incontrovertible idiocies like
dry rain droplets shining like sunlight,
edible goodbye cheerios,
edible didactics, teaching “frosted flakys”
poetic methadone methodology,
poems hats with rhyming lyrics  
that taste like that burnt eyelids colored
a blood stained mustard yellow, (yum),
beyond burger veggie based satyrs,
the happy gladness of sadness,
reversible rivers flowing heavenwards,
***** *******, you want an
infernal cataclysm...

really?

dechambered hearts, ventricular mysteries,
brains wearing wooly sport jacket helmets
and other Olsonian beauties,
like I write with succinct passion,
me, who gets eaten alive by buggers saying
“too long,” “too long,” “needed a mid-poem napt”

non-lexical non-commonsensical ecumenical hysterical
chemical verbal reactionaries
and then you wonder why

PEOPLE ******* HATE POETRY?

jes kiddin’ a leetle
if you don’t follow https://hellopoetry.com/s-olson/
you’re an idiot, one of the best on this site says O.N.
sourced from: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3224387/a-thousand-poems-stronger-130/
jeffrey robin Jul 2010
when i was a kid, me an this black boy
(an remember, slavery was still legal then)

we had just escaped some orphanage where they was plannin to lobotomize us for bein so dang ordinary

an the spirit of alan ginzberg come backwards! thru time an guv us a magic sunflower and he said "i hope this does sutra you"

so we said
"a couse it do" not knowin what he meant but then it burst into a poem and we wernt THAT stupid and we figured out what he meant

and so we became one humanity but then the oinkers they too united and so here is amerikka jes like always except it is you too who are here so what do you got to say an what ya gonna do about it now?
Ken Pepiton Sep 2021
-a bit of the main hero myth -

but the legend said I would, and by now,
you think
maybe so, maybe al in real is al in always?

and we begun, to think the bubble biggering thing a
gain a
little
here there a
we informed, an afform-firm
conformative decision, says the story
telling me, to tell you all, we
told you,
so, who due you owe? Define Devine then sift love
from the mix,
mere words
awe,
ah
ha and sounds mmm hmmm ok tic
we talk
you talk,
we talk unalienable rightmtruetoo, 'botchew
lie.
How? civil servant say, how we lie?

whispers laughs ear to earl laughs aloud

your god in the stars, gives you kings, you say
kings is a dangoodway, to rule with just
one lie, the entire idea and the way
to teach it so all stand under it
until death pay each full worth
of every counted for something idle word
deemed
realways to develop the character, wise one,

kingslayer, -{argh- we be makers of peace, y'twist}

strait up made sacred, squeeze through the clench
tightjibbs beesinteeth big olgrin, not a smile
a grimace,

I have miles to go before I sleep…

but that would leave me at the mercy, ah
ha, right we as words used to hold the satellite-ical
logos, systems,
certainly some are better than others in terms,
terms themselves per se, yo se, such easy knowing
we all know the lies about god
are not being told by those who asked
help with unbelief.

What a relief. Enough. Just enough
to know,
orchids are good as mistletoe, in the ganzgestalt

Book of Life, which holds all the imagined ones,
sets of ways we can imagine

becoming from, y'know,
where I'm from, where a mind is made up, matters,
materially, however, we here,
acknowledge good in all its ways, it's as if the good
quantum level good
is
down at the base
re as on,
if off is re
versatile, a stairway, eh, a stile over the wall,
verse
no need to take down the wall, it may have a role,
like one of those domino shows,
10,000, manhours, zip-thasitclickity click and done
or failed,
maybe this wall that holds the last fret to let go,
re
ject, right, once more, throw it all away, and watch
the good stuff keep comin' back sayin',

Horton say you hear us, we ai, ain't d-ai-d, or
afraid, we jes' old
and filled with buckets of lists of all the things we never did.

- ah, me, cool
- see, in egypt to get the best out of life after death,
- you staid ready to say, a whole long list of I did not do that’s
- and if the list of things you did not do
- is long enough, as you write it in practice scrolls of con
- fession pro forma
-
whatever
disconnects you from finding true rest, no worries, fret not
no *******,

that ain't the kind of peace terminals we make up, as minds
accepted, like a hat, pick the wish you were,
wear the hat, walk the walk, do the talk,
it's TV Sci-fi, fi simper, semper fi  - no lie, a good story,

makes a mass audience in tune to common sense, as
hot and cold,
light and dark,
pull and push,
twist and shout, work it on out, it is
oh yeah
your salvation, do it now, did we miss a beat, was there a hell
somebody never made shut yo' lyin' mind

old man, go home
ask truth-its-ownsel,f tell you what lies you leave be true,
you true believer, be
doin' some listen to yo'self say what you know, you don't.
Ask truth what lie you b'lieve.
You know, you don't. You know, you don't. Forever,
yet, beyond the shadow of that,
y'know
here, earth post 2020, we all saw we all are human, by
all the names of terms we all use
to say I know them, their cousins back to mito mom
our whole internal energy distribution system
links us- yeseyesyes- any bleeding mortal reader on earth
is linked to all bleeding mortal readers on earth
and in where radio code can be decoded
hmmm
mmmmm
mind in matter-real struggle for reality, look spot
blind, see, I never did that test for the fifteen degree blind zone.

Face to face, I know a clenching grimace when I make one.

It ios finished, flushit. That real human
feeling
is the actual good that
ties us at the base of all we ever knew, it is true,
science in good con
good con
science is just
like religion, formation of a following explanatory story,
this
is what comes next, unless we do
the right
thing.

Use the dowry? Touch the Principle Thing, oh my GOD
can you imagine, as in
Beulah land, of corn and wine all its riches freely MINE

… JUST OVER THOSE ROCK KANDY MOUNTAINS
eeeee ohdledee odledeeee ooo

-- and nextime the hillbilly baby momma goes to
tell her cousin of the conditions associated with this
pragnanz gnosis, super secret, you cannot say john.

Sure, you name your kid John, mine has a thousand names al-
rea-ah ready
dy
and just as many faces,

and the babe kicked, she said,
in the spirit
that kick

little startle response no excuse, no sense of déjà vu,

that's common.
It comes down in sheets. Let downs,
from heaven.
I may miss this, I may stay away long enough to entertain a strange idea claiming to be related... to the story... as it forms
jeffrey robin Jul 2010
jes seen the movie....."winner's *****...."

was about people like us an sayin
that if you aint doin SOMETHIN
you will be probly doin NOTHIN  
an probly tryin real hard (too hard!)
to do NOTHIN ........too  well!
am i ee Nov 2015
abducted by aliens
cried & cried
missed you all here

they poked & prodded
this doughy ***
tickeled it
making it laugh

laughing till crying
crying till laughing

so so tired
missed you all
they dropped me
back down on
my head

just last night
screaming with glee
screaming with pain

******* ole Martians
leave me the **** alone
& don't you be takin'
any of my friends

jes leave us the **** alone...

or we be kickin'
your skinny green martain
*****......
jeffrey robin Feb 2014
Cover me back
Mates!

I'm a goin in!

••

••

Caint get no love

Jes like that!



It ain't just a beer at the bar
Ya
Know!

••

(Gotta find out if he can ---- shoot straight !)



Gotta know what he knows

••

••

Gotta cross that bridge when we get to it

-- -- --

Well

We got to
It

We on it!

( & it ain't real stable --no !)

••

Somewhere between Birth & Death

--
( & it ain't real stable -- no! )

••

Straight shooters

WE

Come together

We bring TODAY

Truly to
Its

Rightful place
jeffrey robin Nov 2014
( • )
/)    (\
(       )
)       (
(           )
)              (



since they suppressed the hippies

Ain't been no Christians in AMERIKKKA at all !!!!

//////

Ignorant bible - bashers with guns !

••

What **** !

////

And you all eatin it !!!

••

No wonder all dem kids be cuttin they selves



Now it's

GET YERSELF A HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS

AN GO

BACK TO THE COUNTRY !

!!!!!!

**** DEM LIBERALS

AND GET YE SOME SLAVES

AND IT BE HEAVEN ON EARTH AGAIN !

//

Yeah

Once they suppressed the hippies

We all be ****** !

///

But you don't care

Ya jes sittin there bleedin

Bein the fool they want you to be !

With their **** comin outta yer mouths

And all their lies Rollin offa yer tongues !

— The End —