"kegs" poems
between the *******
of *******
Marj lie large
men who praise
Marj’s cleancornered strokable
body these men’s
fingers toss trunks
shuffle sacks spin kegs they
curl
loving
around
beers
the world has
these men’s hands but their
bodies big and boozing
belong to
Marj
the greenslim purse of whose
face opens
on a fatgold
grin
hooray
hoorah for the large
men who lie
between the *******
of ******* Marj
for the strong men
who
sleep between the legs of Lil
40.1k
Hi, I'm a ****
I'm the girl who is only seen as a ****** slave.
I'm just digging my own grave.
Hi, I'm a ****
Having *** seems to have marked me.
**** let her be."
Hi, I'm a ****
I never close my legs.
Drinking straight from kegs.
Hi, I'm a ****
Today's world is so messed up that we are stuck with a meaningless name.
It's a game.
Hi, I'm a ****
I've gotten more men then I can handle.
Caught up in a scandle.
Hi, I'm a ****
Broken and threatened, bullied online.
**** she is so fine.
Hi, I'm a ****
But I'm also a writer too.
An artist, a poet, but you never knew.
Hi, I'm a ****
Where today in this world names can translate into actions.
And girls can get rapped.
And you can't escape.
Because fate is fate.
And I should not wear that because it's cut to low.
She's such a ***
She should just go.
Hi, I'm a ****
And it's a title that never dies.
Breaking ties.
Because.
Hi, I'm a ****
And I can never keep a guy.
No matter how hard I try.
And it's all a lie.
But, Hi...
I'm a ****
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 7:34 AM UTC
She frequents here most weekend nights,Big **** long kegs, freaky appetite,Her eyes scan every inch of the club,Wet *** all hard and ***** to hell with love.She licks her lips, and warmly, her other lips respond,She sees her prey and grins at knowing this night will be long,They stroll towards her knowingly, they are the lucky ones,She straddles one, while the other mouth makes her come.Moaning ***** words, and writhing, her **** are bouncing freely,Two on one's her favourite, it makes her come so gleely,Her wet tongue finds something hard and veiny, she takes it in her mouth,Her stroking slips and slides make both guys moan and pant out loud.His ball sack dangles over her, she's begging for a suck,The other's fingers enter her, she loves a finger fuck,Her mouth fills up with pleasure juice, she comes onto his fingers,She licks it off, but takes her time,intent to make it linger...
Feb 26, 2010
Feb 26, 2010 at 6:50 AM UTC
My brother, Jake,
He had what it takes;
Shaved when he was eight,
Strong as a boa snake.
He had hair
Like Ringo Starr,
But played guitar
Like Ravi on sitar.
My brother, Jake,
He grew to six foot eight;
He had arms like legs,
Muscles like beer kegs.
He was fast,
With a ball,
His speed could do it all.
And he could speak,
Like a priest,
He kept us all enthralled.
His wit,
It was quick,
And sharp as a paring knife:
He was funny,
He was cruel,
And well thought of at school.
My brother, Jake,
Had a running streak
Up his back,
At the sign
Of any trouble,
He left on the double,
That's my brother, Jake.
So you see,
As I see,
Size is allegory.
Jake's stature
May bring rapture,
But he's a little man to me.
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
Aye,..Uhh
where the weed...Where..(Where the2)..drinks..(Where the2)..weed..(where the2)..drinks..Uhh..Let's have some fun tonight mane, Yeah let's have some fun Aye..(Where the3)..weed, where..(where the2)..drinks,..Where..(Where the2)..weed..(Where the3).. Drinks..(Aye, let's have some fun tonight mane2)..(Yeah..let's have some fun*2)..Aye..
Burn up, Blaze up..Yeah burn up, Yeah Blaze up, Yeah po up, Yeah drink up, Yeah burn up..Yeah po up..Yeah..Blaze up, Yeah drink up.. let's (turn up2)..Yeah..let's..have (some fun2)..Yeah have fun mane..Aye..(Where the3)..weed..Yeah..where..(where the2)..drinks..(Yeah let's have some fun2)..tonight mane,aye..(Where the2)..weed..Yeah..(Where the2)..drinks..(Aye let's have some fun3)..Tonight mane..Aye..Po up Yeah, Blaze up Yeah...drink up ***** & burn up man..(let's have some fun..Yeah*3) man..Aye
OFTR, we throwing a house party like we in the 70s era dawg, yeah we gonna have this **** jumping like Kid n Play dude.., mane
The whole crib gonna foggy filled up wit hella smoke, aye..Yeah ***** that dope..Yeah that good kush aroma dawg..The only thing you can really see is the fire at the end of the roll up..Everybody drinking yeah Everybody rolling up, Yeah everybody coughing & choking & (having fun*3).. Yeah..my nigaa..Yeah we puffing on funky, Uhh.. Homie leave all the stress at the front door man..so
Don't bring no drama, don't bring no problems, don't bring no ******* don't bring no false ones, & don't bring no stank ho's please dawg..forget blowing ****** we got sticky icky grown organically, no pesticides Yeah mane..just straight THC Thats it..home grown , Yeah we..(having fun*3)..relaxing kicking back Yeah kicking back a young ***** had a long *** tiresome day, now its time to unwind get high & have some fun..Yeah..man..Uhh..
Yeah, its time to roll up,Yeah, its time burn up, Yeah its time to po up..Yeah, its time get super drunk..
(Yeah just having fun*2)
(Have fun*3)...man..
Yeah, we gone turn up tonight dawg, Aye we got 40s OEs, Aye we got champagne, clicquot mane,Aye..we got Budweiser, bud lights,coronas & 2,11s by the case load,..also ***** gin, & vsop..Yeah we getting ****** up like a white fraternity, please don't throw up mane,..make sure you eat..Aye mane, **** what people think about me I just live my life, who's the **** to tell me I ain't living right..nobody **** right..
(We having so much fun yeah*3)..tonight should be here dawg , come now, Noo we ain't stopping till the morning.. That's how OFTR party dawg..Uhh Yeah we party hard Aye..
(Where the **** at mane,Yeah where the drinks at,Aye4)...(burn up, po up, twist Yeah, don't stop..Uhh,Yeah3)..
/Don't stop,3../3...
ever nigga..let's go..
Noo I ain't done wit this song no not at all
...Ohh, that's what you thought dawg, **** I still got some more turning up to do.. Man I still got kegs & bags of marijuana that ain't even half way through we getting throwed ,like a football, Yeah we so gone mane..(Ohh*3)..Yeah dawg, Let's go..
(burn up, po up, twist Yeah, don't stop..Uhh,Yeah*3)
/(Have fun3)..Yeah mane/2
(Have fun*3) Yeah..Uhh
where the weed...Where..(Where the2)..drinks..(Where the2)..weed..(where the2)..drinks..Uhh..Let's have some fun tonight mane, Yeah let's have some fun Aye..(Where the3)..weed, where..(where the2)..drinks,..Where..(Where the2)..weed..(Where the3).. Drinks..(Aye, let's have some fun tonight mane2)..(Yeah..let's have some fun*2)..Aye..
Burn up, Blaze up..Yeah burn up, Yeah Blaze up, Yeah po up, Yeah drink up, Yeah burn up..Yeah po up..Yeah..Blaze up, Yeah drink up.. let's (turn up2)..Yeah..let's..have (some fun2)..Yeah have fun mane..Aye..(Where the3)..weed..Yeah..where..(where the2)..drinks..(Yeah let's have some fun2)..tonight mane,aye..(Where the2)..weed..Yeah..(Where the2)..drinks..(Aye let's have some fun3)..Tonight mane..Aye..Po up Yeah, Blaze up Yeah...drink up ***** & burn up man..(let's have some fun..Yeah*3) man..Aye
We doing what we want Yeah..we having so much fun man, we twisting & drinking we living free Yeah..we living freer..than they want us to be , Yeah..we breaking all the rules like **** Dat **** Noo, we don't care about polices, noo, we don't give a **** about nothing, like **** all the laws homie, Naw mane,
/we just do what we want..(Yeah2..)/2
we gone kick back & roll up the whole pacc, Yeah man,we gone wake up tomorrow & do the same **** again..Yeah man, we gone live it up..(Yeah, we gone have some fun3)..tonight.. (Yeah2)..Aye..Uhh
Where..(where the3)..weed at...Where..(Where the3)..drinks at..Uhh..(Where the2)..weed..(where the2)..drinks..Uhh..Yeah
Let's have some fun tonight mane, Yeah let's have some fun Aye..(Where the3)..weed, where..(where the2)..drinks,..Where..(Where the2)..weed..(Where the3).. Drinks..Aye, let's have some fun tonight mane..
(Yeah..let's have some fun*3)..Aye..
(Uhh..Yeah, Blaze up, burn up, drink up , po up, Yeah Blaze up, burn up, turn up, drink mo*3)
(Have fun6)..(Yeah have fun4)..
Man..
Let's have some fun..Aye
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
The clouds hid the red sky that day
Amid the wind and rain
No red sky meant no sailors warning
The waves broke high and hard
They passed the breakers and the kegs
They missed the red sky morning
The ships out on the water
From the shore to the Grand Banks
Were helpless in the coming storm
No choice to turn and run
The best bet was stay put
There was no port to get warm
The skies were filled with nothingness
the clouds like a sharks eye
Shades of black were all they saw
The icy waves of winter
Broke the calm of the early morn
For red sky in the morning is an unwritten sailors law
The Captain closed the bar down
On the Digby ferry crossing
The doors were being opened by each wave
They couldn't see the white caps
Only sky and see was all
And the souls he had to save
There were fifteen boats in transit
When the storm came bearing down
Most were halfway home or so
Now they all were stranded
In the journey between heaven and hell
Which direction they were headed only God would know
Turn sideways and you'd flip it
Just sit still and you were dead
You had to ride the water hellish ride
Hatches all were battened
Windows sealed and doors shut tight
Sailors tried to stay inside
Water spouts were forming
Off the stern and then the port
Navigate the safest spot and keep low
The door to Davy Jones' locker
Was opened and ready to accept
Any boat who made the choice to venture down below
On shore the coast guard were all scrambled
Planes were sent out just in case
More to recover than to save
Families awaited word by radio
The lines from all the ships were down
Some lost to a watery grave
Each year the ocean opens up
Mother Nature takes some back
It's just the circle of life at sea
Prayers are said at the Mariners Hall
Bells are rung for the dead
The sailors soul belongs to the water and it never can be free
Are you one that lives on water?
You know one day your luck will end
You knew this fact from the start
Sailors know the sea's a minefield
It's a war with God each day
You have to fight with all your heart
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
Your beauty is a mystery,
The ęwa that the sun can not
Withstand,
Your smiles that scholars
Can not fathom.
Ajoke, the aręwa of our village,
I had known you since you came Of Age.
Adesina the only heir to the Oba,
The Queen said he hasn't be sleeping since
He saw at the yam festival.
Balogun, the warrior of our village,
Promised the King 300 victories to have you,
Ayankola the prominent drummer,
That performs at the village square,
His 'konga' gives vulnerability to hips,
He wonders what have become of yours,
Odewale, the best village Hunter,
He has sent his wives packing to have you.
Alamu, the village woodcarver,
That carved even Oduduwa,
He has no clue how to carve your beauty.
Bashiru, the son of omowumi,
The palmwine tapper,
His is ready so supply 300 kegs to have you.
Olaniyi, the biggest village farmer,
With plenty of barns, is ready to
Give all this for your beauty.
Ajoke Ashake you are the goddess
Of beauty!
The beauty bird sing for,
That attraction men speak of,
The smiles poets write of,
Your beauty is a mystery!
To her who never noticed me
But her name protest to leave my lips.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 8:13 AM UTC
THE Colonel went out sailing,
He spoke with Turk and Jew,
With Christian and with Infidel,
For all tongues he knew.
"O what's a wifeless man?' said he,
And he came sailing home.
He rose the latch and went upstairS
And found an empty room.
The Colonel went out sailing.
"I kept her much in the country
And she was much alone,
And though she may be there,' he said,
"She may be in the town.
She may be all alone there,
For who can say?' he said.
"I think that I shall find her
In a young man's bed.'
The Colonel went out sailing.
III
The Colonel met a pedlar,
Agreed their clothes to swop,
And bought the grandest jewelry
In a Galway shop,
Instead of thread and needle
put jewelry in the pack,
Bound a thong about his hand,
Hitched it on his back.
The Colonel wcnt out sailing.
The Colonel knocked on the rich man's door,
"I am sorry,' said the maid,
"My mistress cannot see these things,
But she is still abed,
And never have I looked upon
Jewelry so grand.'
"Take all to your mistress,'
And he laid them on her hand.
The Colonel went out sailing.
And he went in and she went on
And both climbed up the stair,
And O he was a clever man,
For he his slippers wore.
And when they came to the top stair
He ran on ahead,
His wife he found and the rich man
In the comfort of a bed.
The Colonel went out sailing.
The Judge at the Assize Court,
When he heard that story told,
Awarded him for damages
Three kegs of gold.
The Colonel said to Tom his man,
"Harness an *** and cart,
Carry the gold about the town,
Throw it in every patt.'
The Colonel went out sailing.
VII
And there at all street-corners
A man with a pistol stood,
And the rich man had paid them well
To shoot the Colonel dead;
But they threw down their pistols
And all men heard them swear
That they could never shoot a man
Did all that for the poor.
The Colonel went out sailing.
VIII
"And did you keep no gold, Tom?
You had three kegs,' said he.
"I never thought of that, Sir.'
"Then want before you die.'
And want he did; for my own grand-dad
Saw the story's end,
And Tom make out a living
From the seaweed on the strand.
The Colonel went out sailing.
2.2k
There was a lady of Lenz
who had 4000 hens
she gathered the eggs
and sold ‘em in kegs
she now drives a Mercedes Benz.
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 6:22 AM UTC
They sell sandwiches and little nightmares with vanity inside.
i glide to a booth and schmooze the next wet group of compromised -
And Charlotte's web
of insular jokes,
snare me from outside my comfort zone...
and i own the green eggs and ham of our sepia tone in the septic lake
of our laughing groan.
We enjoy the view.
I drink to be We and Apart from you.
But the kegs dredge.
They plunder the blunderbuss of our best shot. With Silencer.
We crowd loudly in the Big Easy of our modern strife.
We scrape with dull Lives,
save those with sharp Eyes that see spigots
as unseen Blithe !
We gather in the Hemisphere of our Wanton Anonymity,
as divulged mirrors
in a House
of Cards....
All of my Best Jokes
are Friends
With hearts....
and Then
some...
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
Oh this polite gentlemen,
From ear to ear he's got me smiling.
His arms are strong from everything.
He makes me, just want to, ahhh sing!
Lets talk about those hairy legs,
Find him when he's older, he'll be drinking those kegs.
one day he shall get there,
Hell if I can, but he will i swear.
Later at night, he becomes silly.
Plenty of time to daddle it up, yeah to dilly.
He's got moves to make your legs shake.
Oh for goodness sake.
Take your time, there's no rush.
For him I have a baby crush.
- - - - - - - - - - -
part two of the same poem.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Yes, he's so fine.
Talk bad, he'll keep you inline.
Nothing tragic will set him back,
No he never puts forth no slack.
Curious, he wonders how i work.
Hell, he's even asked me if I could twerk.
Country music, is his forte.
In the mud he enjoys to play.
Catch him riding in his truck.
You're funny if you think he gives a ****
Going here and there.
Catches me looking when I stare,
No room for what i want to say,
Not ever enough time in one day.
(est.j.r.e.)
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
She labors to smile,
irony draws lines
on her embittered face,
thick dark iron bars,
temporarily cage pain;
yet the risk
the two run is toxic.
soon they 'd have to face it,
unmistakable indications reveal,
her velvet voice over the phone,
conjured up an image,
drastically different,
a sadness now faintly asks
his permission to spread quickly,
confused he postpones, buying time.
guilt, a shaggy, smelly, hound
suspicion, its dominant trait,
lurks sniffing around,
the table they mutely sit,
like prisoners of unburied past
convoluting the plot,
by playing ***** tricks.
the air thickens
chocking both,
the haunt leers, licks its paws in glee
what is its intention?
"You look more or less
like him, my former lover-
I try to erase from memory
by every which way possible,
sorry about that, but i can't help it,
he traded in pain of many kinds
ingeniously, nothing else he did"
she shoots from the hip.
memory of an evil genius
was quickly resurrected by him
from the assortment of stereotypes,
vision of caravans transporting
gun powder kegs of bad memories, flashed
he had a match stick handy.
soon, everything exploded to culminate;
darkness devoured all, breaking limits.
caravans slog towards horizon, one after other still.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
Little one, you happy child,
Little do you know,
That as time passes and as you grow,
That happiness will surely go.
Your smile will fade into a smirk,
And eventually a frown.
And you'll turn it back from upside down,
With many drugs in your local town.
Whether you're at the bottom of a bottle,
Or at the end of a pack,
Maybe even a ******* sack,
It'll be too far to go and turn back.
So little one, I toast this to you.
To a really bright future of unhappiness too.
Filled with loads of drugs and kegs of brew,
Maybe even a lover, but you'll never know who.
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 10:04 PM UTC
Who is this old man sitting in the tattered old chair,
Yelling French at Mad Dog Vachon,
Bragging about the Crusher's capacity for beer,
Chortling at the desolation of the British Bull Dogs?
Smoking his cigars to their very ends in his old pipe,
Spitting plug tobacco juice
Mostly in the can beside us as my Grandma gags....
The French they speak to each other
Should include requests for pardon....
This raving lunatic is my Grandpa Charles,
And I am five and six and seven,
Sitting on his lap,
Believing every word the Gospel truth:
Seeing Vachon as the savior of French Canada,
The Bulldogs for the evil nation they proclaim,
Kegs of beer as quantities strong men crush.
This old Frenchman whose horse days are done,
Who barely knows to sit still
Though he is a passenger now,
Beside my father...
Knows magical tricks to stun and spell me:
Pushing his teeth out with his tongue,
Leaking smoke from his ears,
Tamping burning coals with his thumb...
An old man who refuses to be old,
Who sits and raves at wrestlers on TV.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
summer is fast approaching
here comes the shorten shorts
the chopped up jeans
and the showy shirts with the split sides
summer is fast approaching
the beach parties are on
and the flip flops are out
the kegs are filled up, ready for action
summer is fast approaching
beach ***** are blown up
bathing suits are selling out
cars are filled with gas, ready to go
summer is fast approaching
i'm inside
fully clothed
awaiting for winter to come
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
Where are the men
Those that stand up and admit their sin
Unlike Adam
Hiding behind leaves
Where are the men who are faithful those that are not cheaters
The ones that care more about growth in God than sneakers
Where are the men that have not been conditioned
**** by their kin now they grown and switching
Oh its deep like a giant squid swimming
Where are the men that understand that there wounds need healing
The men that do right dictated by the direction of the Holy Spirit not there feelings
Where are the men that get married and stay
Those that raise there families mightily like Christ rising from the dead
The men that make decisions with their heads
And not the one between their legs
Where are the men who don't need kegs
Trying to balance life with crutches and wooden pegs
Where are the men that know what manhood is
The men that don't have multiple baby mother's and random kids..
Where are the men?
I look in the mirror and see one
The others are my friends
There are other real men that exist
Many grown boys
Like 17 year olds that look 25 but are kids
No men
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 1:47 PM UTC
Quick find me an apple
And shove it in my eye;
I'm pathetic like facts under Snapple
Caps twist off as I cry,
My arms my legs
And anything you want
You took my heart and even kegs
Of *** cannot un-haunt
The void left behind;
Not even a huge pumpkin rind
Can plug this black hole,
******* whatever life is left
Withering fading from my soul,
With whom do I file a claim for this theft?
My mind is not in right now
Leave a message; I'll know
When I return if I can live
Without a smile to give
To those that care
Trust them I cannot dare,
But I won't just yet die
Because something still
Beats within my carcass;
For you lost apple of my eye
For you I will find the will
To amble out of this darkness...
© okpoet
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 11:57 PM UTC
it’s hard having a normal sized torso while fitted with 10 foot legs,
it’s like living with legs as long as trees and as wide as beer kegs,
i’ve never gone on a successful shopping trip in my life,
everything bought online, even though it’s convenient, i’m still filled with strife
as you may have guessed, getting out of cars is a nightmare,
like some awkward mutant trying to get out of a bmw makes a whole crowd stop and stare,
contrary to popular belief, i never played ball or played any sports at all,
so clumsy, if you ever saw me on the court you’d be appalled
grocery shopping is more difficult than you would anticipate,
the simple task of reaching the top shelf effortlessly makes an awe-filled crowd congregate
some kind of genetic monstrosity, why did it have to be this way,
i would like to cut half of my legs off, if i may
but alas, maybe one thing i could excel at,
something to give me hope, to not make my dreams flat
i could be an accountant! an awkward, tall accountant!
they barely get up, with no physical labor, this is the answer to my prayer, my covenant!
i started my job as an accountant, and everything was going great
i vowed to get all my work done, and never be late
but then i remembered that i failed math 3 times in high school
i don’t really want to be an accountant anymore, i feel like a fool
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
Today walked down the street in my wheel chair
Rode the bus and train but forgot to be pay the taxi fare
Found my self with a blind guy who gave me directions
Got educated by an eighty year old on morning erections
Held an interesting conversation with a deaf friend
Listened to a book with no meaning and no end
Sitting down made my legs hurt but mostly my heels
Skinned an orange, threw out the bad stuff and ate the peel
Breakdanced the morning moon with a dude who didn’t have legs
Simmered the night sun with tea that was poured out of kegs
Had dinner with a vegetarian and we shared my steak dish
Also, we swam in the sky with a remarkable flying fish
Saw a janitor perform heart surgery on a machine
While the doctor told a cricket what was wrong with his spleen
Wrote lyrics with a dyslexic composer on a piano
Tanned on the beach lines of Alaska with a dark albino
Found my way thru the day with a dull flashlight
Slithered around with a snake that offered a colorful sight
Today was a day much more opposite than any other
Is this the confusion you had when you saw me with my lover?
Jonathan Pizarro
Copyright 2010 ©
May 12, 2010
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 8:53 PM UTC
Outside my unseeing windows
Stringed lamp posts
Pierce the deepest night.
Lights still dance
Along the streets,
Reflected in silent pools,
Splashed by gentle roars
Of pavement rubber
Racing the idled road.
Beneath my candid room
The aircon units gargle
Their cold nocturne
Of sleep and thought.
The sidewalk stays mindful --
Witness to murmured kegs
And murdered heels,
Its quiescence reverberates
The gentle parley
Of blaring merchant loons.
The boulevard refuses
To choke in darkness.
My mind will wait until
The clamour of morning
Shatters this weighted gloom.
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 7:48 PM UTC
it’s hard having a normal sized torso while fitted with 10 foot legs,
it’s like living with legs as long as trees and as wide as beer kegs,
i’ve never gone on a successful shopping trip in my life,
everything bought online, even though it’s convenient, i’m still filled with strife
as you may have guessed, getting out of cars is a nightmare,
like some awkward mutant trying to get out of a bmw makes a whole crowd stop and stare,
contrary to popular belief, i never played ball or played any sports at all,
so clumsy, if you ever saw me on the court you’d be appalled
grocery shopping is more difficult than you would anticipate,
the simple task of reaching the top shelf effortlessly makes an awe-filled crowd congregate
some kind of genetic monstrosity, why did it have to be this way,
i would like to cut half of my legs off, if i may
but alas, maybe one thing i could excel at,
something to give me hope, to not make my dreams flat
i could be an accountant! an awkward, tall accountant!
they barely get up, with no physical labor, this is the answer to my prayer, my covenant!
i started my job as an accountant, and everything was going great
i vowed to get all my work done, and never be late
but then i remembered that i failed math 3 times in high school
i don’t really want to be an accountant anymore, i feel like a fool
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
Looking out
Around
There is a generation
Not the one with angelheaded hipsters
That were laid infamously famous
But truly a generation that is its own
Cold, calculating, as they, we, must
Be now that there is everything
There is everything here but right now
As we are surrounded by the everything that
Makes up our filled lives, we concentrate on
The nothing.
So we, they, them, I all must be cold, calculating
Networking, meeting, greeting, cheering,
Pleading for work in the everything that is
Nothing.
And as I look out, through the window
Into our generation, my generation
There is a warmness
A kindness once
unfamiliar to coldness and calculating
Where despite distance, time, values, reasons
Nothing
everything
Bonds are made
Is it this cold networking, greeting, meeting that
Allows for the kindness that kindles the fire
That keeps our cheeks warm and glowing
A soft pink in the dead of night
As we stand by kegs, cups, tables, cops, cars, bars,
By girls vomiting on their own volition or not
By boys raising hell as their families admonish but
Their cultures praise
We, Them, I, They, Us, can not know
What we, them, I, They Us are doing
Just as others didn’t know what they
Were doing, and meaning and becoming maryters for
On a clear fall day, when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky
Yet turbulence filled the air, the nation and the world.
They, We, I, Us, Them, do not even
Consider their meaning as they ponder
Fake lives on interposed mediums
Or if they are Jackies,
Or Marilyns or
Audreys
Or if laying down somewhere
just as warm as it is cold
As they touch souls with others
Means anything more than nothing
If they can hold on as they try to let go
When an entire world begs them not to
But the teenage desire to rebel is strong
And the pull of the vast of emotions is stronger
And as we seem to be losing
In clusters
The We.
I.
Us.
They. Them
The fire never dims, and the warm pink glow never flickers
Off our cheeks
And the mix of cold calculations and
Pleasant beatitudes
Combine, like a nights plans
In a gin bucket
And the thought of importance, rarely is thought
Of aside from the few
The brave
Maybe a Marine, but mostly
Those who wish to cure things, change other things
Create things, build things, code things
Things Things Things Things.
T-H-I-N-G-S
For a future of nothing and everything
Everything and nothing
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
THE BIG CRASH AT PARK VILLE
BETWEEN A BEER TRUCK AND A TRAM YEAH AND
SLIM DUSTY’S GHOST CALLS OUT
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH DUNCAN
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH KEVIN
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH PATRICK
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH TONY
NO THE TRUCK IS IN A CRASH
THE BEER KEGS ALL FELL OVER EVERYWHERE
LEAVES US WAITING TO HAVE BEER WITH OUR MATES
HOW CAN WE DRINK IN MODERATION
THE BEER KEGS ARE SCATTERED ALL OVER THE GROUND
WE CAN’T HAVE BERR WITH OUR MATES
CAUSE THE TRUCK HASN’T COME UP YET
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH RODNEY
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH DAN
CAUSE I MIGHT HAVE MENTIONED THE PARKVILLE CRASH
OH MY GOD, IT SPOILS THE PLAN FOR THE TOWNSMEN
YOU SEE HOW CAN WE DRINK IN MODERATION
WHERE THE BEER IS LOW, OH YEAH
IU CAN’T HAVE A BEER IN PARKSVILLE
CAUSE WE CRASHED INTO A TRAM
I WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH WILLIAM
I WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH BILL
WE DRINK IT UNDER THE TABLE
BUT THIS CRASH BRINGS A SHORTAGE YEAH
COME ON RESCUERS, PLEASE, SAVE OUR ****** BEER
I WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH DUNCAN
CAUSE, HE DESERVES IT, OH YEAH
THEN SLIM DUSTY FLIES AWAY, DON’T FORGET ME PARKSVILLE
I MET YOU AT THE STATION
WITH ALL THE BEER HERE RATHER THAN THE PUB MY KIND SIR
WE CAN’T HAVE OUR CELEBRATION
WE DRINK THE BEER ANYWAY, IT’S HOT BUT WHO CARES, IT’S BREW
YEAH LET’S GET ****** OLD KODGERS, AND YOUND DUDES
YEAH, GET BLIND OH YEAH
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
Our Crayola crayons have become blunts and our juices boxes are turning into kegs
Teachers try to pry into our personal lives and relate but every mistake we make they turn into a story to scare the other kids
Every mistake is a new lesson plan or lecture ; It’s scary how much teachers can tease
They ask us how we feel and we say “great” “fine” “awesome” but do they not see the pain on our faces and the war in our hearts?
And every decision we make affects our future because we’re supposed to pick a career in our teens
How do I feel, really?
Pressured and analyzed and hurt because my hearts been broken three different times this year
and I want to know if I’ve grown up enough to hold his hand
because cooties have turned into love and we’re stupid enough to believe it will last
We’re being cast in our on plays because Hollywood was empty of adults who always played 15 year olds because they want us to think we need to look like that
They sell us things we don’t need because we’re too trusting and don’t bother to ask “do I really look like that?”
But, then they go on a mission plan to fight teen suicide and help teens who have turned to drugs to feel something
This is not Dawson Creek or Degrassi
This is the lives of actual people who have feelings and not lines to read
So, please stop covering up your tracks
because when you throw a stone into an ocean, the ripple can (and will) reach many shores
And stop telling me that, at 15, I should be grown up
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
Slurred words
blared in my ears
drunken fists took
cheap shots,
cheap liquor,
30 packs
kegs
all around --
Such sweet
Corona melodies
Sing me a
liquor lullaby,
refrains full of regret
"shouldn't have smashed your face"
"..that girl"
"..that window"
"..your heart"
Turn your corona boom-box
down a notch.
I'm tired of listening.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 8:38 AM UTC