"lefty" poems
Lefty , I can't imagine how he got his name
Always did things backwards . . . so . . . . .
I was not surprised when he up and went away
Never said why , when , or where he had to go
Now he is growing old where as they say
"Only God Knows"
What are clouds anyway ?
Water vapor in the sky ?
I think it is so much more
I think they are recycled tears
Of every broken heart that ever be
Falling to a desert below
My cactus flower
Blooming in the night
So none will see
She keeps her love close
Protected by her needles
I sit and watch her bloom
And before the sun has begun
I leave looking for lefty
And the reasons I quit
Are the excuses I choose
Between the desert and the sea
Where the cause will be
Clouds keep winking at me
The circle is broken into pieces
I speak in deserts of sand
Drown in seas of lingering waves of pain
And I have no clue where lefty went
Only remember a cactus flower blooming
Without the thorns between the two
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
Trump sat in his tower, supreme in every way
Whatever he wanted, he only had to say
The President to the press corps, of him, one day made fun
I’m gonna replace you bud, when your term is done
He started his campaign, they said he was a joke
But he became popular with all the common folk
The stuff that he spouted, was more and more absurd
But the stupid morons, swallowed his every word
He’s a Super Callous Fragile Racist Sexist **** Potus
Even though the sound of it is really quite atrocious
Maybe we could change him, if we tried hypnosis
He’s a Super Callous Fragile Racist Sexist **** Potus
There's no such thing as climate change, everything is fine
Burning coal and shale oil is perfectly divine
Those lefty enviornmentalists love to yell and shout
(making lots of money is what I'm all about)
The Mexicans are gonna pay when I build the wall
And I’ll lock you up Clinton, guaranteed next fall
No one could believe it, when the count was done
The blonde haired, orange faced, nitwit, actually had won
He’s a Super Callous Fragile Racist Sexist **** Potus
Even though the sound of it is really quite atrocious
Maybe we could change him, if we tried hypnosis
He’s a Super Callous Fragile Racist Sexist **** Potus
It’s just that he was used to, always getting his way
He signed executive orders, on his very first day
The Judges over ruled him, and put him in his place
They threw the executive orders, right back in his face
He’s having lot’s of problems, with the phoney press
And though he tweets daily, it’s still causing distress
If he bombed the Syrians, maybe it would make amends
But all he succeeded in doing, was **** off his Russian friends
He’s a Super Callous Fragile Racist Sexist **** Potus
Even though the sound of it is really quite atrocious
Maybe we could change him, if we tried hypnosis
He’s a Super Callous Fragile Racist Sexist **** Potus
The FBI investigate, so he fired their chief
The replacement just carried on, Trump got no relief
Congress is thinking, let's put Trump against the wall
Pence is in the wings, just waiting for their call
He’s a Super Callous Fragile Racist Sexist **** Potus
Even though the sound of it is really quite atrocious
Maybe we could change him, if we tried hypnosis
He’s a Super Callous Fragile Racist Sexist **** Potus
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
http://m.wikihow.com/Unhook-a-Bra
Pinch the eyelets but oh so gently,
To properly unhook the device to safely release paradise
From it's containment chamber.
This be one of many secrets to unlocking
The mechanism that holds some of the happy things
The human body artist conceived
To perpetuate the
Species.
According to the internet,
To extract joy to the world correctly,
Depends upon both your station and your
Positioning.
Thus, it helps to have GPS,
Which most men think is that pointy thing
Between their legs,
But is not.
Given the laws of gravity,
And other natural limitations,
Sadly that utensil of little avail
In this surgical operation.
If one desires to release the tension
Between the connectors of the protectors,
Guardians of her heart,
It will be necessary to
Let your fingers do the walking.
So cut and paste the title above,
In your web browser place!
Do your homework or risk feeling
As petite as a schnauzer.
Seems your natural tendency,
Righty or lefty, matters in this endeavor,
Of which I was unawares, oft pressing the incorrect lever.
This, the likely cause of my spectacular
Teenage
Fumblings and failures.
Had I known that fact,
In the days before the Internet,
Surely I would have brought along my
Catchers mitt
To step up my game.
Sage advice the article provides:
*Get a bra, and practice, practice, practice!
It gets easier with experience.*
But methinks that is a bit of a
Risky adventure,
Lest you be seen boy,
Practicing upon yourself,
Or even a dummy,
Dummy!
So cut and paste the title above
In your web browser,
Do your home work or risk feeling
As petite as a pocket schnauzer.
But the most important tip
This wealthy article of information provides,
The conclusion.
In the hour of your desperate struggle,
Drooping
Ego
And
Crushed
Pride,
Ask for assistance from one more practiced,
Hopefully nearby,
Whose help usually comes with a charming smile
of touching condescension
For your male idiocy and verbal in-articulation.
*She, unawares, that you have got her
Positioned precisely where you want!*
For when you lift her up,
In a free state, the one Divinity intended,
and in your arms, enfolded and protected,
In one grand poetic gesture,
Sweep her off her feet,
Her surprise will be
**..
O
So Touching!**
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 6:30 PM UTC
I was never one to pick one over the other
They used to function together as well as brothers
As time passes, their relationship sours
One works hard and focuses for hours
The other struggles to relay to the main tower
Dripping with blood is this brother
Dripping with liquid salt in worry is the other
Together they used to form pictures in the clouds
Now one peers through a fog stitched shroud
Teamwork is a thing of the past
The rift between them is filling with fog, fast
They still both serve under the same mast
But one is absorbing as much sun as he still last
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 3:19 AM UTC
I put my hand on my chest
Where my heart used to beat
The drum that it played
So soft and so sweet
Now it’s lefty empty
So hollow and cold
Just whispers of memories
Of the stories once told
The foundation is crumbling
The walls starting to crack
So I’ll just close my eyes
And let the world fade to black
Aug 4, 2023
Aug 4, 2023 at 7:52 PM UTC
In the very beginning
when God made woman and man,
He noticed some were smarter
and devised a glorious plan.
He gathered them together
and solemnly commanded,
“You, my favorite children,
will henceforth be left-handed.”
So when you see a lefty,
please give your due respect,
and try not to be offended
by their greater intellect.
Although you are right-handed,
for which there is no cure,
remember God still loves you…
He just loves lefties more.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 9:46 AM UTC
10,000 steps to a poem
<~>
walk to save my visions, my subterfuge-self, trying to
encapsulate the moments, seconds of nano-instances of a
tableau of histories, of actions becoming interactions,
a physical mitosis, ground into one human paste of word-cells
by a singular mortar and pestle that more than blends, but condenses
walk in Whitman’s footsteps, prowl old cobbled
streets seeing them anew, listening to the patois
of each skyward pathway, a commingling of
catechisms, Tefilot, Salah, Stuti Karana, into a stampede becoming a tornado funnel of a multivariate alphabets singularity - a prayer|poem returning to birth-mother
rush homeward desperate to retain the holy mess of verbal music,
before aged eyes release the visions, into a heavenly lost but found
depot of single lefty gloves, snatches and refrains, hymnals, phrases,
10,000 preservation band steps keeping but scraps, weeping
for the so much lost, yet blessing-uttering thankful for this one,
to a one
*who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to
this moment, to this season.*
4/4/21
1:50pm
~writ by night, daylight born~
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 1:57 PM UTC
i am a leaky faucet.
the crescent wrench of control
tightens,
righty tighty
but i drip, drip, drip.
a stronger hand has gripped my handle.
lefty loosy, let it flow
my dripping waters spill into your ears,
where earth flower seeds fell in late summer sun
oh, quick! quick! knock out the dirt
somebody call a plumber
blossoms like these
won't survive the coming frost.
*blossoms like these
will make your head explode.*
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 2:40 PM UTC
He had a musical talent others strive to have,
I only wanted to hear him,
hear each finger as they touched the strings,
of his left handed base,
get to sit there and listen to him play,
get to hear him play,
get to maybe learn how to play myself,
or just fool around,
perks of being a lefty too,
but I haven't gotten to hear him play,
he for the time being lives far away,
and when miles don't separate us,
the time will,
the time and effort we can put in to see each other,
to hear each other,
waiting for one another will become a painful task,
every summer day will be hard to last because we just,
will eventually get tired,
the same old waiting game,
gets old fast and quick,
and if I remember correctly the last time we got to be together,
my friend felt the decency to kick,
his sack,
and the fact,
even though I repeatedly asked,
what the hell happened,
he nor she nor anyone really,
told me why,
but he told me every reason he thought could of been why,
and I know he didn't lie when he said he didn't know,
I heard him tell me everything he did know,
and that was more then enough for me to know,
how I wanted to hear him play his base,
and listen to him as I played with his hair,
I wanted him to hold me close,
like its too close for comfort,
the sweet whispers sound like screams,
but nothing's out of a bad dream,
this dream is good and real,
and you can hear and feel everything like you're meant to,
I wanted him to leave his mark,
so i'll never forget where he's been,
so it be easier to remember what he has said,
when he treats me with a respect and grace i've never been given,
and even if he does love someone else,
and I can't love him anymore than puppy love,
would I stop caring?
why would I?
even when romance wasn't on the table,
we were friends,
I wanna hear the echoes and repeats playing sound tracks of friends,
because I know I can't,
have him,
and that I dont even deserve him,
but I still want to hear him play,
his left handed base,
and everyday,
I still miss him,
and hope,
to hear him play.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
poetry comes and goes
opens and flows
spills into streams of prose
amidst the musical rows of my thoughts.
forms and rhythms
which melt and morph and sing into being
the abstractions of synaptic connections,
write into existence
the chemical signals of neurotransmitter gossip,
and transfer to the Symbolic
the electrical impulses of the Real
scratch and peel the caulk
from the edges of The Faucet,
turn and wind the wheeled handles open,
open, open.
Past lefty loosey and into
the outpouring of pent up pressure;
raw, and juicy.
Poetry is *** death and magic.
The art of training the mind's faucets
elastic.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
Unless your a lefty then it crawls along the skyline.
Smudgless and contorted.
Unless the culture teaches right to left.
Otherwise.
Ride the skyline
Wrist like a cervical spasm?
A long necked goose preening his
Breast feathers.
Methinks a right handed world stinks to a lefty.
A much discouraged practice in the church when
I was just a lad
In league with the devil
Satans scribe.
Jesus Christ. I lapsed at 22.
I love god.
Just not the one I knew.
Do onto others as you would have them do unto you.
Case closed. Period. Full stop..
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
My name, Hombres, is Pancho,
I work on an outta z ways rancho;
I make just 5 pesos for the day.
It is a hard job to do for the pay.
I go out after. Go see Free Lucy.
Then, I asked her for the Pousse;
She just slapped me in the face;
And a took my 5 pesos anyways.
: ( What did I say? :(
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 2:55 PM UTC
Yet homeless happy people without thrive ability
party pushers posting pictures with such jive hostility
acting out with rational it's like sporting politically
Obama's on my starting team with poll pushing agility
I Got two Clintons on my backup fantasy league
don't watch local games or who's selling off senate seats
not all are frozen but most have chosen illiterately
on the block taking tokens steady smokin and broke and
no matter for realities that are steadily approaching
call me young in notion but I can't stand for lack of motion
late nights to early mornings I'm writing in search of potion
like Juliet rests in pieces I see the gauntlets broken
YOU can't save the planet **** IT so Janet pass on posting
Nothin new under sun we **** for fun and Whales **** in the ocean
as if Ape won't **** Ape Mother Earth will keep her motion
Wu is Me now I see I've been
Sipping on Too Wrongs Lefty
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC
I am from the hot ocean breeze
and crystal clear waters
From the baseball fields
where the dug-outs are covered in original flavored sunflower seeds
From the "lefty's got game!"
and the "Lefty, get it!" As I step up to home plate
I am from the young girl who runs through the coffee fields
in her sky blue dress in the embrace of freedom
I am from the delicately blooming red Rose in a field of Tulips
From the hidden secret garden
that is my heart
I am from the smile that shines as bright as the sun
From the vroom-vroom of the motor to the red motorcycle riding up the dirt road
I am from frustration of a currupted past
fading away in a whirl of darkness
I am from the young girl horse back riding on the beach
the ball of fire up in the sky
setting the scenery as she makes her way down the beach
I am from the fairy tales of a young girl all grown
yet still refusing to relinquish a dream meant to be lived
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
Sinking in bed,
Can’t quite find the floor
And my right foot’s
Still covered sheet,
With lonely, “lefty,”
Somewhere south a star.
I’d swallowed my tooth,
Earlier, an added topping,
And down went the slice –
To ever remember the,
“CRUNCH!” of pepperoni, so
Reminded, a right hook’s sting.
And she’d left the ice bucket
Atop counter,
The tenth time this week,
But I’d only smelled her, “note,”
The last I guessed
And the last it ever’d be.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 9:07 AM UTC
Left-handed, a lefty, the other arm.
It is forgotten because it’s weaker.
The other, extra, the one with no charm.
If it were a woman, none would seek her.
The sinister and the clumsy left hand.
Derogated abnormality.
Like an afterthought that was never planned.
Its only benefit is symmetry.
At least I could have been ambidextrous.
Then I’d be capable on either side.
I want perfection, not a little less.
This left hand is a source of wounded pride.
When can the useless ever find their place?
This dangling vestige had made me bereft.
But then I found that someone to embrace,
And I saw the potential I had left.
Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 9:16 AM UTC
Emotions rule my soul
and Sometimes its like a curse
being stuck down here on earth
yearning to feel loved
craving that acceptance
never fitting anywhere
I always was a lefty
there are few out there like me
but I have yet to meet any
society has demoralized them
but they believe themselves liberated
I've searched cracks and crevices
but only found dust
I have dug ditches and hole
but I have found nothing but gold
In a world full of greed
I have a beating heart
So I search for something more
But its mostly frozen over
I may have found one though
A soul pure but misled
Whose warmth could melt the world
and save us from our death.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
the disagreement palpable
gotta seriously disagree
the reversal is the course proper
*** backwards you are, right back at ya*
forward forward, never confuse what’s past infused
never go back to old, it’s a dead weight carrying
the past is now a pretense, what we saw, believed and wrote
shuck that mao shirt, those cowboy boots, older vista visions,
the capsule you saw gone immediately to forward the blessing
get some slim jeans, fancy sneakers, a new way of seeing seeking
then the music muse interferes interfaces!
There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,
And my spirit is crying for leaving.
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,
And the voices of those who stand looking.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.
And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune,
Then the piper will lead us to reason.
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long,
And the forests will echo with laughter.
If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean for the May queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on.
And it makes me wonder.
“Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know,
The piper's calling you to join him,
Dear, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?”
exactly
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC
The lefty
who was forced to write
correctly
wrote her name
backwards
hoping it was
right.
Nov 28, 2010
Nov 28, 2010 at 6:19 PM UTC
Ill **** the ink right off the hemp of the constitution
Just to spit dark remarks like coked up John Belushi
at officials ass-hats enduring constant mood swings
as the hormone pendulum
signifies a revolution
war drone generals,
pimps for hire, lefty tool kits.
hefty duties levied on the public, getting flooded
yes I shot the tariff, but I never quit consumption
off fake happiness
so apathy's getting toothy
Lucidly
give historic figures
clues through dream.
Now thats nifty networking who do you know?
A yeti befriended a spaghetti monster
and got together to spin a blue globe.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
My vision isn’t perfect,
But I at least saw you.
The lefty vaguely sees,
My righty is flawed too.
One sees near, one far.
Yet they saw you, dear.
I look for rhymes, deep.
I listen for words, hear.
Its all an allegory, honey.
Or whatever that means.
I thank the past, my love.
Now the future is here?
Its all unrequited though!
And I have no intentions!
I love and love and love-
But they’re just my heart?
We see with eyes, sweetie.
We do feel what we touch.
Our senses have brought,
Things that are… naught.
This poem goes everywhere!
Talks about this and that…
But that is what you get,
When you have blurry eyes.
Jan 2, 2020
Jan 2, 2020 at 8:44 PM UTC
You found me right and tight
And then you left me loosey
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 9:20 PM UTC
Out on the diamond
a great place to play
I could watch those boys
hitting and running all day
Grab a seat in the bleachers
and shout out "Hooray"
out on the diamond
a great place to play
The shortstop looks restless
he flies to the bag
the catcher throws down
and he puts down the tag
the runner hears "out"
as they put him away
out on the diamond
a great place to play
The pitcher's a lefty
and throws a mean curve
that last one was filthy
just watch that thing swerve
the three hitter K'd
slams his bat on the plate
out on the diamond
he swung it too late
The innings were short
but the game was a treat
as we watch the away team
go home in defeat
the best gem of April
is opening day
out on the diamond
the best place to play
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 3:10 PM UTC
Righty loosely
Lefty tightly
Oh no, wait!
That's not righty
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 10:13 PM UTC
doom
dark ages and the death
of poetry
now here
arise poets
spark burning lines
arson the fake prez Fuhrer
all his followers
Nazis
(how original)
don't forget the weird
line breaks and
/ spacing / /
refuse punctuation
no caps ever
voila
yet another
lame lib lefty
yawner
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 9:25 PM UTC