"kendra" poems
**** your heroes
Shoot em' down.
Shoot em' dead.
You'e only got one hero
That's You
Get it in your head.
© 2014 Kendra Bowman
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 4:30 AM UTC
I am Miss Kendra
The **** tease
And with my hands
I aim to please
I'll squeeze your ****
Just for fun
I'll even let you
Rub your *****
Against my ***
In the park
I blew
A studly guy
Just for fun
But never
Ever
Do I allow
Men to ***
They groan and moan
Until their ***** ache
But letting them ******
No, "For goodness sake!"
No spurting of cream
Will be allowed
I am a tease queen
And I humbly take a bow
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
The Sun.
She is Golden
Crying out to me as she dignifies the morning.
Blinding me.
Encasing me in her warm arms.
Comforting my wonders as I stare up into her pudgy round face.
Feeding my thought.
Her smooth touch across my cocoa colored skin,
It makes me just want to watch her,
And lie there forever.
As life happens,
And time passes by.
© 2014 Kendra Bowman
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 4:16 AM UTC
Leave it for a day and the world forgets you exist. Not all followers, mind you, but most. Over 4,000 followers on Twitter and they'll retweet the latest tweet only. Most won't ask "Where's Kendra? Is she ok?" They won't go through my archives of posted poems to read or find some kinship. No. Only the latest & greatest, thank you very much.
Is it my poetry? Does it throw people off? Is it because I don't constantly write about erotica & flaming *** Is it because I discuss domestic violence like an uncaged soul? Or is it merely the beast of social media, itself? These questions I often ask myself.
I suppose it sounds like I'm feeling sorry for myself. Perhaps that isn't too far from the truth.
Not to put myself on some pedestal. I do the same thing. I simply find it sad. Thousands of poems posted between here, Twitter, blogs, etc. and it all goes unnoticed - except the latest one posted. Surely I'm not the only who feels this way but it wouldn't be the first time if I am.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC
Hannah and I
were stealing mailboxes
because we were drunk
and earlier
we had been jumping giant pool gates
half-naked
and since weren't successful
at getting to the other side
Hannah thought it'd be funny
if we opened car doors
and maybe kept
something from the inside,
so we did.
We were two daring drunkards
dashing from car to car
taking faded jeans
and fleece sweaters
and torn-up Nike shoes.
Now this morning I woke up and thought about
what I would do
with all of my new things
and found I had no use for Nikes.
So I dropped them off at Goodwill
came back to my apartment,
crawled into the bathroom,
and hurled like hell.
And after wiping gunk
from the far ends of my frown
I swore to myself
that what had happened that night
would not happen again.
Ha, but do you think that happened?
by Kendra Cook
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 2:34 PM UTC
Jolly good friends are we
Only because of “Raf-Rod” pain
Happiness when the assignments were complete.
Not far off is
Sonic,
Our favorite activity, but,
Not with out Dan
Best friends forever
I repeat,
Best friends forever
Leave it or take it
Everyone’s a hater
Crammed in the truck
Only Dan, Stan and Kendra
Leaving behind the haters
Loving our route 44’s and
Eating out taters
Getting all dressed up
Everyone in this city be jealous of us.
Oct 6, 2010
Oct 6, 2010 at 8:57 AM UTC
you have always been
fringed in gold, always
back lit, probably born
with a silver lining, never
having been a cloud but
you effortlessly drifted
into my life, and out
and out, and out
and
out
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
"A holstered product secretly hunts after its own end product-"
"-not metal targets nor flying geese, but mortality."
A man, with graying hair and pursed lips, told me this. A well-trained and prayered piety had crept along, pounced, and overcome him. Like Edison, a creative obsession gripped his spine and puppeteered the entire body. It was a plague, he called it, or something like that. Even at a young age, gaurdian 1 & 2 lulled him to the steeple's hiding. He noted how the steeple was always at mast. His children would observe the same detail, live the same routine. I studied the curious character for weeks. A facsimile of the Word seemed permanently pressed on his brain, trapped behind devout eyes- For weeks I studied him, give me more time! Each biblical page was scribbled and creased, share and reused. -no longer. "My holster found its mortal tonight, friend. I'll raise the barrel and create a grand scene."
Slight pause, heavy breathe, slow speak. "Colossal at best."
by Kendra Cook
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 4:13 PM UTC
Hi,
My name is--
Nothing.
Never mind.
I forgot that I don't have one.
You can't know me.
You don't know me....
At least that's what you told them...
You could never just admit it.
You would never just tell them.
You should have went out shouted it out,
Loud enough for the whole world to here you.
But I only ask of this because you were so ashamed of me.
I love you...
And you know this
Because you know you loved me...
Cause we were together
Yeah.
We were a thing
I couldn't have just imagined it
We spent 4 months together
Cuddled up in the back of your mom's car
Laughing at my jokes
And spilling drinks
Arms around each other
Lips locked together.....
But now you say that you don't know me??
Every.
Single.
One.
Of my deepest darkest secrets has been invested into your very soul.
****** into your hands for you to hold onto.
And in return I had gotten trustful looks of lies.
And now every time you look at me...
You turn the other way and laugh
Because you know I'm a freak.
You know what's wrong with me!
You know everything!
But you still say that you don't know me...
But you know you do.
You know you loved me!
And I know that I loved you....
And I know that you know you loved me too
So I am just waiting.
Waiting on the day you will tell the world
That you loved me.
All I wanted you to do is not deny this.
Deny that there was an us.
That you know that our laughs
And our smiles
And our times together
That our everlasting foreverness
Was not made up
It was true
We were real
And you loved every bit of it....
Including me.
Hey,
It's me.
And Baby...
I'm still waiting.
© 2013 Kendra Bowman
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 11:51 PM UTC
Perfection likes to vacation inside my head
And I can’t stand her.
With her bows
And her dresses
And her frilliness....
She knows everything....
She can do anything.....
She's what everyone dreams of.
She's what everyone wants to be.
But,
She's always loved to tag along with Insanity
And of course Insanity drives me crazy.
So self-control tries to control me.
But still insanity pushes her way through to me.
Till I am drowning in her sweet words of comfort.
Wrapped up tight.
In a soft padded room.
© 2013 Kendra Bowman
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
Line your empty words
With parentheses
Extend them, fake and false
Shiny and showy
Give them reason, kinetics, class
And we will listen
And in each case, we too,will
Find our own meaning.
by Kendra Cook
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 2:28 PM UTC
She is yellow.
Screaming happiness in my face as she glistens across my tear streaked cheek bones
She shrieks with laughter.
Filling our soul with the joy we continuously search for.
She taste like lemonade,
A sweet, sour sensation that pools upon my lips,
Swims in my mouth,
Swishing along my tongue.
Though she smells like fear.
And we all cower before her.
The sun is like a wild fire. You can not control her.
Still she engulfs us in warmth.
Glistening.
Holding fast onto our hearts
She knows we can not live without her.
© 2013 Kendra Bowman
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 1:50 AM UTC
Never understood the meaning
A life spinning out of control
I stared in the face of the reaper
At risk ,my very soul
Once loved a girl who was fire
Realizing not what I had done
The child bore of our desire
A soul that would rival the sun
Just a name can't hold enough meaning
These feelings burning inside
Child of fire I will name Kendra
Of my blood, of my flesh , of my pride
I finally understand the meaning
It is the color, there in her eyes
When kendra Sez dad I love you
I no longer rage at lifes lies. Hy
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 8:45 PM UTC
My silence lives in the middle of my chest.
Engulfing my lungs into the poeticness of Black.
It inches up my throat,
Clinging onto my esophagus,
Chokingly.
My silence suffocates me,
But my voice still wants to Scream.
© 2015 Kendra Bowman
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
Sky.
She is falling.
Crashing down upon me.
Crushing me beneath her overwhelmingly heavy weightlessness
While Beauty,
Striping herself from me.
Constantly escapes my needy grasp.
Then Pain
She singes me
Burning deep into my flesh
As she holds fast onto my heart.
Squeezing its rhythmic thumping in her tight grasp.
Killing me.
All while waiting on Death,
And searching for Perfection.
Dying for Joy,
And crying for my savior.
Who never showed up...
© 2013 Kendra Bowman
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 1:36 AM UTC
Guns to the head.
Knives through the heart,
Down our wrist.
Jumping off bridges,
Drowning, Crashing.
We keep putting bullet holes in our chest.
Tears streaming down our faces.
We go to sleep and never wake
How much more can we take?
We've got those painkillers,
Our cheerleaders.
Screaming "You can die!!! Just take me!!!"
© 2013 Kendra Bowman
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC
One lone jagged stick,
Far below towering trees,
Broken from its home.
by Kendra Cook
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 2:35 PM UTC
Crying is like a rainy day.
And tears,
They are the raindrops upon cheeks.
A smile is the rare beautiful sunshine
That clears the foggy afternoons
And laughter,
It is the rainbow that spreads across the sky.
When perfection makes the rain cease
And the sun sparkle
© 2013 Kendra Bowman
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC
You aren't my sister
Sometimes I wish you were
The monkey bars gave me this blister
But I was playing with you for sure
I love you a bunch
Much more than you think
I love you so much
Even just when you blink
You are the sister I want
No one else Is like you
It Is you that I flaunt
No matter what you do
You and I, Is we
We, Is just you and me
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 6:07 PM UTC
I no longer yearn for tenderness.
I only once yearned for it because I thought it was what was right.
Soft,
Gentle,
Love.
Sweet
Between
The Sheets.
With Patient Kisses.
And hands
that Do Not
Hunger.
But I need you to Ravish me...
Because when you ransack me it feels ravishing.
© 2014 Kendra Bowman
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC
I once met a man,
with a remarkably even brow,
who promised me we’d dance naked on the ice caps of Patagonia.
He swore it like I was the torch that lit fire to his blood;
swore it like he could already feel the earth beneath us melting away.
He called to me, “Kendra”,
and ate all the letters as they slid over his tongue.
I believed him only for the way his mouth moved.
I followed.
I poured myself into the stream of his praises, poured my breath onto his hungry tongue,
I poured, and poured, and drained myself empty.
I awoke alone
to my first crystal splintering: the crisp and brutal dawning
that most full nights will waken to empty mornings.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 11:52 PM UTC
I am from Fisher Price cars with foot powered engines.
Dolls with no hair,
Barbies with no houses.
I am from give it back!
Give it here!
Alex, no!
Ni Ni, stop!
I am from frost bitten rain and winter coats.
I am from snow for Days.
and Weeks.
and Months.
I am from North, East, South, and West.
The Shinobi.
The Lone Ranger.
With Life dragging me in each direction,
“Stay” is not in my vocabulary.
I am from the Cool of The Bay
And the Heat of The Valley.
I am from Loud Mouths
And Long Hair.
Sarcasm and Activism.
No one speaks for me.
I am from a Cousin of Every Color,
A Sister of Every Origin,
A Brother of Every Nation.
I am from the empty darkness of my room.
I can do nothing but bask in its humidity.
I am from nothing but the Hum of Music.
The Tune of Music.
The Sound of Music.
I am from things unsaid.
I am those unsaid things.
I am from the beat of the drum,
And a dance that will always conversate with me.
I am from the Theater.
From the Backdrop to the Stage.
I am the dusted over glitter on the floor.
I am the glisten of the lights above me.
The Singer.
The Actor.
The Writer.
I am the truest version of myself.
And nothing will stop me.
© 2015 Kendra Bowman
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
She was the one that ran out into the rain.
Laughing,
Smiling,
Dancing.
The one that made the boys afraid.
Tough,
Fearless,
Strong.
The girl who'd jump not knowing how to swim.
Now drowning 6 ft under.
Lost and imprisoned within herself.
© 2013 Kendra Bowman
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
Why didn't you get it?
You just thought it was one of my phases
But on the inside I knew I was going crazy
Why didn't you understand me?
Oh the irony of that statement.
That you can understand the children with the needs of the special needs
But you cant understand your own child
Who's brain functions and cooperates
Quite clearly
She is calling out for help
But you cant see that
Now she is crying out to you from her hospital bed.
From her asylum.
Bruised around her neck.
Scars across her wrist.
Scratched up and down her arms.
Cut to deep,
In a coma from the draining of her sweet crimson.
Because she let the pain tear through her.
She let it tear though her....
And it threw her
Over the edge
I am pouring out to you through this poem.
Before I let my pain
Push me over
And I Am crying silently to myself in my asylum.
From the scars down my wrist
And the painkillers that were once in my hand
In my coma
Because I let the pain tear through me
And I've become this person I can no longer control.
I could never control myself.
So please
At my funeral I want all of you to see rainbows
And I'll see you in white
When you meet me
In heaven
© 2013 Kendra Bowman
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
I was playing
The role of Kendra
A very fit and *****
Brunette
A Sicilian man
Messaged me
Very ***** I bet
Broken English
He spoke
And he said,
No joke,
"My c*** grow up
When I see you"
I had no Skype
And no cam
If only he knew
That Kendra
Was a man
Lol
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC