"levi" poems
"This is the day we've been waiting on. It's ok to be nervous but don't be scared. You are the sacred vessel" said the tall dark skin woman as she looked down into the eyes of the ten year old boy. Dressed in a red and black robe the ten year old boy says "I'm not afraid. I'm just ready to get this over with." "That's just what I wanted to hear Levi. It's time to get started. Please follow behind me" said the tall dark skin woman. "Yes mother" said Levi as he followed his mother out of his room. Leading Levi down a long hall that was illuminated with red light his mother says "When Priest summon the spirit Cruelty remember not to fight it. Just let it take over." "Ok" said Levi. When Levi and his mother entered the worship area Levi's mother had him stand in front of the altar and the clergy. "Thank you Harriet for escorting Levi to the altar" said a tall figure wearing a black hooded robe. "You're welcome Priest" said Harriet. Stepping down from the altar holding a baby creature in his right hand and a knife in his left hand Priest stood in front of Levi. Priest stabbed the baby creature in it's stomach and ripped it opened. He then dipped his finger in the baby creature's blood and anointed Levi's forehead with it's blood. "Bring me the Book of Sins" said Priest. Stepping down from the altar holding the Book of Sins a short figure wearing a black hooded robe brought Priest the Book of Sins. Turning to the chapter of Cruelty, Priest began reading. "As night blinds the sight of the male and the female and Hate stands on the grave of Love. Only then will evil reveal it self. Like Death stalking the living Cruelty will crush Kindness. I offer this vessel to the mistress Cruelty. Come forward I summon you Cruelty." When Priest finished reading from the Book of Sins the red lights that illuminated the compound began to flicker off and on. From out of no where a gust of wind began to circle around Levi. Slowly the wind began to transform into black smoke. Over taken with fear Levi was unable to move. Entering through Levi's gaping mouth the black smoke took possession of him. Shaking violently Levi fell to the floor. "Levi are you all right?" asked Priest. Standing to his feet and looking Priest in his face with eyes as black as death Levi says "The child is no longer in control." Walking up to Priest, Levi sticks his hand in Priest's stomach and pulls out his intestines. "LEVI YOU KILLED YOUR FATHER!" screamed Harriet as she ran over to the lifeless body of Priest. "I am Cruelty. Like I told the child's father Levi is no longer in control but for amusement everyone may still call me Levi" said Cruelty as she looked at Harriet. Pointing at the robed figures on the altar Cruelty tells them to get rid of Priest's dead body. "Yes Levi" said the robed figures.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 10:33 AM UTC
"Son can you play me a memory
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet
And I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes"
Billy Joel lyrics from
"Piano Man"*
~~~~~~~~~~~~
when I was very young
I wore Levi jeans and white
Hanes cotton T shirts
my mother bot me,
my feet, Ked clad, red
from the kid's "department" store
on Central Avenue,
the Main Street of my small town
when I was a young lad,
I wore workingman's cargo jeans and
white Hanes cotton T shirts
under red plaid
wooly shirts, itchy affairs,
that I bot for myself
in a real Army Navy store,
desert colored suede boots,
laced up high,
upon my feet
when I was of middling years,
my jeans were khaki pants,
Gap supplied,
and my Gap T shirts,
faded like me,
a non-descript color,
made in a gap of pale pastel colors
from Bangladesh or Vietnam,
pale pastel, like me
so as I slide~decline into
my nursing home years,
I wear unbranded jeans and
white cotton no name T shirts
with matching white disposable slippers,
that the Purchasing Department
bot for me, cause they know,
I like,
a younger man's clothes and
the memories that play all day
lost in day dreaming of a life
well dressed
2:01am
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
Harriet turned back off the intercom and stood in the office for a few seconds. What have we done? I can't believe I let my ten year old son be the vessel to that thing. I can't believe we were stupid enough to summon that thing thought Harriet. Harriet walked out of the office and back to the worship area where Evil was waiting.
"Why do you have a look of concern on your face Harriet? What did you think I would be like?" asked Evil. "I didn't know what to expect" said Harriet. As Harriet and Evil stood eyeing each other the members of Sinister walked in the worship area.
"I'm glad you all could make it. Now sit down" said Evil. A stocky middle aged man walked up to Evil looked down at him and said "I don't take orders from children." with a smile on his face Evil broke the man's leg in half by giving him a front kick to his knee cap. The stocky man hit the floor and screamed in agony. The members of Sinister watched in horror as Evil wrapped his arms around the man's head and broke his neck. He then proceeded to rip the man's head off and throw it out the door of the worship area.
"Now if everyone would please listen to me very carefully. The person you see is not Levi. I am Evil. Your priest summoned me and I answered his call. The vessel you see is Levi but I am Evil. All of you may address me as Levi" said Evil. The members of Sinister looked at each other but didn't say a word. "Sit down. You all thought the Book of Evil was something to play with and that I wasn't real. You put the cult Sinister together to pass time and have fun. I am very real" said Evil as the members of Sinister sat down. "Your High Priest use to run the show but from now on I'll be running the show. You may now return to your rooms until I call for you again" said Evil.
All of the members of Sinister stood to their feet and returned to their rooms. When all of the members of Sinister were gone Evil looked at Harriet and said "I need for you to update me on world events. I need to know what's going on around the world." "You need to watch the Visual View Screen. The Visual View Screen is a device that show us World News, entertainment shows, movies, and music. What you need to watch is world news. Follow behind me" said Harriet.
Harriet led Evil out of the worship area and to a room where there was a Visual View Screen. She turned on the Visual View Screen, turned the channel to the world news, and the two sat down and watched the world news.
"That's it right there. It's amazing how Scientist and Bio Engeiners come up with things" said Evil. "What's it?" asked Harriet. "Don't you just love war? Your species create genius ways to **** each other. They created a virus and a cure to for the virus. The building where the virus is kept is under quarantine. We are going to release the virus and live in the underground city designed to keep the Scientist and Bio Engeiners safe if the virus ever got loose. Once the virus **** everyone on planet the members of Sinister will reemerge from the underground city and I will create a new world" said Evil.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 5:22 PM UTC
Observing these old men sitting at the stockyard cafe,
Suspendered bellies hanging above huge buckles
And button-crotched Levi's tucked tight over leather boots,
Legs grown bowed and thin, but carrying them to the sale, still,
To hear the auctioneer, talking fast to work the buying crowd,
And get their fill of cattle, shoved indoors,
Sold beneath the steady cracking whips,
A spectacle to burn its way into my minds's forever eye:
The skidding steers, the rolling eyes, the frantic scramble to find cover,
While buyers gave their quiet signs:
A tilted cap, a winking eye, a thumb or index finger up or at a side,
To purchase cow or bull or horse, in living flesh...
Then out again, through the other door,
And turn our heads to wait for more, and read the scrolling numbers:
How many head, how much per pound, perhaps a buyer's name,
And then the swinging sound of other cattle coming in to start again.
So, here these old boys sit again,
Slurping coffee through their yellowed teeth,
Remembering days of indoor cigarettes and harried waitresses,
The smell of cow manure and jingling spurs,
Though now the smokeless ring seems tame, more civilized,
I see the glory days reflecting in the old men's eyes.....
I was just a boy back in those good old days,
My memory is a little hazed, but I can recall
When smoking was allowed and sawdust covered the filthy floor,
A Coca-Cola cost a dime, and the cattle sale with Dad was the big time;
Quaking as we treaded light on the catwalks above the pens,
Looked for our calves, or cows Dad culled to bring to sale,
Then going down and in to see them sell.
Fondly now, I can recall the restaurant at the ring
Where I hoped for a slice of lemon pie from behind chill-fogged glass,
Saw cowmen wearing spurs and neckerchiefs and chaps...
Dreamed of growing up to be a cowboy.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
Shema (“Listen”)
by Primo Levi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You who live secure
in your comfortable homes,
who return each evening to find
warm food and a hearty welcome ...
Consider: is this a “man”
who slogs through mud,
who has never known peace,
who fights for scraps of bread,
who lives at another man's whim,
who at his "yes" or "no" lies dead.
Consider: is this a “woman”
shorn bald and bereft of a name
because she lacks the strength to remember,
her eyes as void and her womb as frigid
as a winter frog's?
Consider that such horrors have indeed been!
I commend these words to you.
Engrave them in your hearts
when you lounge in your beds
and again when you rise,
when you venture outside.
Rehearse them to your children,
or may your houses softly crumble
and disease render you equally as humble
so that even your offspring avert their eyes.
Primo Michele Levi (1919-1987) was an Italian Jewish chemist, writer and Holocaust survivor. He was the author of two novels and several collections of short stories, essays, and poems, but is best known for If This Is a Man, his account of the year he spent as a prisoner in the Auschwitz concentration camp in Nazi-occupied Poland. It has been described as one of the best books by one of the most important writers of the twentieth century. His unique work The Periodic Table was shortlisted as one of the greatest scientific books ever written, by the Royal Institution of Great Britain. Levi's autobiographical book about his liberation from Auschwitz, The Truce, became a movie with the same name in 1997. Keywords: Holocaust, poem, Italian, translation, man, mud, woman, bald, nameless, houses, homes, bread, eyes, womb, empty, void, frigid, lifeless, horror, horrors, hearts, write, etch, engrave, inscribe, children, offspring, disease, avert, reject
Mar 14, 2020
Mar 14, 2020 at 4:58 AM UTC
Ouch. There's a tug somewhere deep in my gut.
Ooh, a pinch almost.
I hunch over, placing one one hand on my stomach.
Squint my eyes and scrunch my nose.
"You okay, ***
"Yeah, ma. Can I just try on these jeans and get home? My tummy hurts."
"You feel like you're gonna puke?"
"No, just a little crampy."
The discomfort continues.
I grab the Levi's. Size 12/14.
Shuffle into the dressing room.
"Uh, mom . . . ?"
"Yeah? Are they too big?"
"Uh, no . . . " Then, in hushed tones. "Can you come here?"
"What?"
"Uh . . . I think maybe. I uh, got my period."
Silence. Anticipation. Waiting for the happy mom, excited squeal, and Welcome-to-Womanhood! hug. A My-Little-Girl's-Growing-Up smile at the very least.
Instead, with a straight face, "Oh, well, we'll have to take care of that. Did the jeans work out?"
Oct 13, 2010
Oct 13, 2010 at 7:53 PM UTC
Eratic Plastic Dysphemistic Euphemisms
the rain in Spain
falls mainly on the plain
while the dome in Rome
is a place to call home
and the gazoot in Beirut
is in cahoot
with the Neo in Reo
and his brother Theo
and Levi in Shanghai
munches blueberry pie
the roast on the coast
has been burnt like the toast
and my frog on the log
barks like a dog
its a pity how gritty
it is in ** Chi Minh City
never challange Mr Wong to play ping pong
in Hong Kong
or smoke a bowl with a mole
in old town Seoul
or the gendarme will storm
the crowd in Pittsburgh
Gomer LePoet...
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
Once I looked to the Bard for words profound;
ageless, his wisdom ran unabated.
Yet Hamlet is now ideologically unsound,
“the slings and arrows” historically Iocated.
I wept for the creature of Frankenstein,
spurned by his master, forced to roam the Earth.
But I’d been subjectively positioned in a paradigm
by Mary’s anxiety about childbirth.
I read Balzac, Hardy and Henry James
describing “worlds” which seemed quite sensible.
Now Eagleton’s exposed their bourgeois games
I find them morally reprehensible.
I dreamt of being Robinson Crusoe
or proud, fierce Hawkeye in his buckskins dressed,
but Fenimore and Defoe have to go,
they’re culturally encoded and empirically obsessed.
Inspired by Guinness, did James Joyce sit down
to see what magic flowed when he was ******
The stream of Ulysses floats Bloom-about-town
dreamthinkingnever : “I’mamodernist”.
I’d gladly give Woolf a Room of Her Own
and be one of the boys with Hemingway,
but sensitive guys leave their bulls alone
say de Beauvoir and Luce Irigaray.
No more fun with Wordsworth being daffodilly,
no simple pleasure reading Mickey Mouse;
Steamboat Willie can’t help but look silly
dissected by Foucault and Levi-Strauss.
The Bible shows intertextuality
says the two Jacques, Lacan and Derrida.
Judas, a construct of bisexuality?
The **** fixations of Herod are?
It’s got so bad I deconstruct a holiday brochure.
I can’t even **** without Roland Barthes and Ferdinand de Saussure.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
Vile = Veil = Evil = Levi = Live
Lust = ****
Hate = Heat
God = Dog
Art = Rat = Tar
Slow = Owls = Lows
Life = File
Blue = ****
Fire = Rife
Psalm =Palms
Words = Sword
Ram = Arm
Stone = Notes
Time = Emit = Mite
One = Neo
Seven = Evens
Raw = War
Salt = Last
Door = Odor
Read = Dear = Dare
Snake = Sneak
Star = Arts = Rats
Ear = Are = Era
Leap = Plea
Low = Owl
Heart = Earth = Retha
No = On
Hatred = Red Hat
Dad = Add
Robe = Orbe
Verse = Serve = Sever
Dan = And
Cool = Loco
Mary = Army
Baby = Abby
Stain = Saint
Name = Mean
Tea = Eat = Ate
Male = Lame
Car = Arc
How = Who
Meat = Team = Mate = Tame
Stare = Tears
Teacher = Cheater
What = Thaw
Part = Trap
State = Taste
Scared =sacred
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 6:48 PM UTC
capsized beating purple algorithm
for a heart,
cross-nit aspirations
still taste dirt on my teeth,
the mission creep of eager eyed poets,
carry a briefcase with my levi's --
close cut cigarette encounters,
all brick shantytown of a friendship
them lovelies run on endless,
it's starting to get cold outside.
restless sprites circle our *****
exhaling greek mythopoeics
every sure footed step.
alcoholism echoes in my skin
a depth charge i cannot cut out,
we all have broken thoughts here,
all have blind spots in our stomachs,
they read like a preacher's insecurities:
burly things we warm ourselves with,
the winters sting bitter.
something is wrong with me,
sinkhole of ambition and honey kisses,
all the great thinkers **** themselves,
it's the staunch lack of spotlight,
way the earth drips lackadaisical-like
we just call it a perfect orbit.
shake my hand and feel a goldilocks pulse
anemic shards of a cornered animal,
we cut right
to the bone
here, or so we tell ourselves.
and love is always the answer?
that sure footed toothy angel
so beautiful, it couldn't just be our
churlish blood,
frothing and calming,
frothing and calming,
electrons rise and fall to create light,
they still circle an untapped atrocity
perfectly,
like this, like it must be
god
or something close. something
stopping them from running, free
from bonds ionic or otherwise,
bare feet
beating the pavement until there are
no more stones to throw.
firstborns of the universe,
each star is a setting sun,
blinks staggered,
still grew us up quicker than most,
there is no aphrodisiac like heliocentrism.
them bones cut good
doped up on oxytocin,
those empty thoughts still rattling,
dig sharp -- then nice and numb.
and we cutthroat and glossy,
sharper than ever.
walk outside
smoke a cigarette
know how much you love her,
look at the stars --
it's ******* beautiful isn't it
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC
Sheesh!
I'm wetter than Lobster's sweater
Damp as Dolphin's socks
Dripping like Killer-whale's bikini bottoms
That she left to dry on some rocks.
I'm soggy as Otter's pockets
And soaked as Sea-lion's dungarees
Moist as the Trout's lipglossed pout
Saturated like an Eel's Levi jeans
;-p
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 9:36 PM UTC
Two and a half years of
Hiding under my Levi's
And cheap, holey sweaters
Jackets, handed down from mother
And gloves made out of toe socks
Two and a half years of blaming
It on the cat, pointing fingers
At sharp cornered desks and
Dogs and messing around with friends
Hiding my secret, holding it close to me
Today, I took of my jacket
And the world, being cruel as it is
Forced me to crawl right back inside
With eyes prying and people touching
And their judgmental, pity looks
But tomorrow will be different
And I wont let young eyes
Stop me from being afraid
To show my forearms
I promise this
It's time for some change
Because I can't go on faking
My smile for fake people anymore
And hiding my body from the world
Because I am beautiful
Or so they say
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
you’ve changed, says tinkerbell
as she strokes peter’s tanned face
was that wrinkle there before?
she pokes it, her tiny finger
getting engulfed in the folds of skin
did you dye your hair? i like the colour
you’ve grown taller too, and i
suppose your shoulders have become
b r o a d e r
peter flicks tinkerbell away
and absentmindedly uses his hands
to sweep the dust off his new
leather jacket and levi’s jeans
peter tells tinkerbell that the
five years he spent in the real world
was infinitely better than being cooped
up in neverland, and that he found a new
girl to replace wendy, her name’s hannah
peter says he might leave forever
tinkerbell buzzes around anxiously
why? she asks peter
what about me and the lost boys?
we can’t all stay young forever, peter
scoffs as he ties the laces of his new
converse sneakers, a gift from hannah for
their second anniversary
peter kicks up sand as he walks away
we all have to grow up one day
we can’t stay here forever in a fairytale
remaining as stagnant characters
who only know happy endings
follow me tinkerbell, and we can learn
about the harsh realities of life and
bear the scars which indicate our
brush with the cruel and painful
truths outside of our little bubble
tinkerbell disagrees, i don’t want to
grow up, we’ve always been fine here
why do you want to change now?
i don’t want to leave this fairytale behind
i like it here with you, i like it here where
everything has an happy ending
are you leaving me because
you found someone better to
spend your days with? is that it,
that i’m not good enough for you anymore?
peter shakes his head no, that’s not it
tinkerbell, you know very well i still
cherish you, but i want to live now,
live a life of ups and downs, and grow
up and learn as i fall and get up again
it’s a special experience, and avoiding it
gets you nowhere, like how we are now
farewell, tinkerbell, i shall leave now
everyone has to grow up someday,
and it’s time for me to do so
tinkerbell watches as peter leaves
for the final time, and her heart sinks
maybe peter was right, he did make sense
even a little fairy has to grow up too
but growing up is scary, and tinkerbell is scared
it’s a scary place out there, she thinks
a miniscule being can’t possibly survive there
tinkerbell flies back home in the heart of neverland
to safety and security, to where she could remain
young, forever
((growing up was always a terrifying concept too foreign for tinkerbell to grasp))
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 2:20 PM UTC
It was my first time
I was fifteen years old
And it was 8 inches.
Eight. Whole. Inches.
Laying motionless in my hands,
Long and lifeless as I stared excitedly, nervously
My first ...haircut
I spun around in the salon chair to see my exposed jaw, shoulders, neck
Holding in my hands a ponytail that would soon be sent to Locks of Love
My first legitimate haircut, not the simple snips my mom would attempt in the bathroom when split ends were too unbearable,
A real style
Back straight and shoulders proud,
Uncertainty left on the tiles beneath the feet of beaming confidence,
Leaving dead the sheet that covered scared eyes and shy smiles…ever since I've developed an addiction to change,
Can't leave it the same for more than two months
And the chime of the door behind me opened endless opportunities:
Brown, auburn, gold, red, blond, yellow
Black
Brown black, blue black, soft black, natural black, always back to black
Straight, curly, layered, cropped, feathered, fringed, shaved
Undercut, mohawk, faux hawk, that weird thing where I gel it to the side and kind of look like a boy...
And yeah, sometimes I get sick of the sexist comments
People telling me I've got a boy's haircut
That short hair is for men, but
So were the olympics and voting and public education and getting published,
And thriving in the workplace and wearing pants,
And god knows im not going to give up either my Levi's or my razor
I'm not going to keep worrying; man's words will stop me from doing what i love
And I've been called lesbian, boyish, butch, manly, androgynous, anti-effeminate,
But I know I don't stand alone.
So thank you, Natalie Portman, P!nk,
Rihanna, Katy Perry, Anne Hathaway,
Kaley, Megan, Erin, Kim, Skylar
I don't know all of you well,
But the risks you've taken with your hair
Are an inspiration to those who care
So short haired women,
Keep doing your thang.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
God made jeans for nice jewish boys
as I walk down the street
I invoke and bless his name,
my eyes criss-crossed,
cause I am an ecu-man-iacal
lay man womanizer
he,
be my fellow descendant from
Adam & Abraham
Levi Strauss
who had a
prophetic vision
(of course)
why stretchable tight jeans
were even better
than apples
and started
a gold rush
that will never
end
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
It's Friday night, I knock back five
Then stumble out to hit the club
I catch your eye looking for mine
Looking for a lover you don't have to love
A harried glance, we start the dance
With roaming, groaning hands
And sweat, and grit, and scripted friction
A masterclass of sham romance
But you're not you and I'm not me
And these red cups won't set us free
And I regret the way we met
As faceless strangers in a drunken sea
I wish it were morning
To watch the wind play in your hair
I wish it were morning
To see the sunlight in your stare
I wish it were morning
When I could tell you what I think
I wish it were morning
Without the help of all these drinks
The ***** on your breath, it smells like death
And your lips don't taste quite right
And your Levi jeans pressed up against me
Just aren't doing it tonight
The hiccup when you flirt, and the ***** on your shirt,
Match the beer-stains on your shoes
With your empty flask, and your haggard mask
I just can't stand the sight of you
And while I'd like to spend the night
And wake up warm between the covers
I tip my hat instead, and see you off to bed
Because poets are daytime lovers.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
Short dark hair under
a dogeared baseball cap
tipped my way
a perfect smile on your face
crisp white pocketed T-shirt
dark blue Levi jeans
worn all-weather Chippewa boots
rugged, young and handsome
holding a stop sign for children
best crossing guard ever.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
sometimes
one can be thankful
for seeing a false facade
its veneer of plastic
gives it away
once the top layer
is peeled off
the true colors
of the facade are recognized
imitation....
like a Louis Vuitton handbag
fake....
as a cheap Levi tag
these hall marks
stand out
to give a clearer view
of what lies beneath
the facade's
subterfuge
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
I wanted to once more
return on Home; to stand
upon the front-porch, hand-crafted
by a Supreme knowledge of your skin.
To ignite the necessary ember to fuel
the fire behind your eyes; to linger
in the door frame as a way to embolden
that birthmark I always encouraged upon
your, half-swollen heart.
I wanted to Unconsciously return again to a singular
dependence on your five-o-clock laugh
or upon the fact that my ******* always saluted the
way your *** got zipped up in those Levi's, all the
way up, to your Blue Collar.
I haven't been able to
shake off your Novelty; travelling
the World and devouring boys
like you, in stale rooms and motionless autos,
where their skin made me Itch, and left nothing but
bed bug souvenirs to nestle in my brain. *(It's not their
fault that lavender and cotton, never
smelled as good on a girl like me)*
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Am I brave enough to tell you?
to tell you that I like the way you smile
to tell you that I miss the way you laugh
to tell you that I love the way you say my name
Am I brave enough to tell you?
to tell you that I like your hair down your shoulders
to tell you that I miss the way you curse over stuffs
to tell you that I love the way you roll my chair back to you
Am I brave enough to tell you?
to tell you how I like the heart-shaped crumble of papers you gave to me
to tell you how I miss the way we took pictures of us together
to tell you how I love the way you say few words from your mouth
Am I brave enough to tell you?
to tell you what's been happening in my world
to tell you what am I up to
to tell you what's inside my head even when you're not around
Am I brave enough to tell you?
to tell you how I love the way you smell in your green BVLGARI perfume
to tell you how I love the way your Levi's jacket fits my body
to tell you how I love the way you look in your dark grey Nike glasses
Am I brave enough to tell you?
to tell you that the door of my heart is open
to tell you that I am right here,waiting for the day for you to come
and lock it up so everybody else will get locked out
Am I brave enough to tell you that I love you?
Darling, tell me if I brave enough to tell you that I love you.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
When I watch you
smiling candidly on shiny paper
laughing, surrounded by the remaints
of your friend's cigarette smoke
or
when I watch you
in your old, worn-out-with-love Levi's
with the overused Adia's running shoes
standing, with me for your shoulders
like I was on top of the world
I say
when I watch you
you framed Kodak memory of a father
who used to be the handsome hero of my life
used to be my best friend
I smile
through your faded memory
I smile
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 11:53 PM UTC
My dear midnight flower,
You are such a fighter (for good things)...
You're too good to me,
to everyone.
You always have been,
and you deserve more.
You deserve more poetry to be written about you,
you deserve more kisses and hugs,
you deserve less hurt...
But I guess you're "used" to all the **** that's in your life.
I hope one day you'll find your sun,
and you'll be their cherished moon.
You mean a lot to me,
and I hold you dear to my heart...
for you to get hurt,
I will hurt the person whom hurt you with a force over nine-thousand times stronger than what they did to you,
after consoling and tending to you first, of course.
The way you smile,
makes me smile, just knowing that you're happy.
The way you hurt,
it's a blow to the gut,
I couldn't protect you,
and you're hurt...
I'm sorry this poem is all over the place and I couldn't bring you enough justice,
for you're too good to describe in just mere words.
Only actions like
a swift kick to the head,
a hare burrowing into the ground,
and maybe a fisherman releasing his fish,
can describe you.
Or maybe
You're more like a skyscraper,
Literally and figuratively.
I'll always look up to you, senpai.
I will always try to take brilliant pictures of you, to capture the essence of you.
But I'll always fail,
'Cause you're best seen in real life and not in photos.
But no matter what, I'll always be here for you,
The bizarre Hanji sidekick
To your sugoi, very interesting
Levi-heichou.
- Love, your crazy, over-protective and psychotic kohai,
Paul ^^
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
Evil Levi - The main character in the story. Evil Levi was born into a cult named Sinister. His parents gave him to the cult to so he could be the vessle for the spirit Cruelty.
Sinister - The name of the cult that Evil Levi was born into. The goal of Sinister is to engulf the planet in Hatred.
Spectrum - The name of the planet where the story takes place.
Harriet - The mother of Evil Levi.
Liberty - The name of the city where the story takes place.
Iniquity - The name of the compound where the members of Sinister Live.
Priest - The father of Evil Levi. Priest is the high priest of the cult Sinister.
The Book of Sins - The holy book for the cult Sinister.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
I envy her.
I'd write that
she changes lovers
as often as her clothes,
but I've seen her
hold on to clothes
much longer.
I envy her.
She knows love
straight out of
a Vogue editorial.
The kind where models
wear only jeans
and ****** each other
with their polished,
photoshopped beauty
and ****** eyes.
Then you see
the same models
somewhere else,
seducing some other model,
and wonder
how their brains
can keep up
the oxytocin
demand.
I envy her.
My lover and I,
we're full of holes,
like my father's
light blue Levi's
from the eighties.
I don't envy her.
We're full of holes,
my love and I,
but full of patches
because a good pair of jeans
are worth mending
when they fit you
like a glove.
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 9:53 PM UTC
3 | 31 Poems for August 2017
Love, I understand, that I may never fully understand you.
I want the chance to always hold you tight like a pair of Levi’s jeans.
It doesn’t really matter whether they are black or blue.
As long as these hands always get the chance to hold and caress you.
Love, I know you want the world but I can only give you mine.
It’s not much but I hope it gradually becomes a place where you’ll always want to spend some quality time.
On days when it gets harder to breathe or speak, I recommend *****
You’re a woman with substance and I’m drawn to your melanin.
Beautiful cocoa butter skin, what’s there not to love about you?
Your love is never enough; I’m always left yearning for more.
In a world ravaged by cold wars, we need to know what we’re fighting for.
I understand that I may never understand the struggles you always go through.
Life will bend and stretch the both of us into painful shapes and that’s why we all need someone to talk to.
Sometimes we tend to forget how it feels when someone listens.
You’re more than just dimples, curves and a pretty face.
You’re more than just punchlines, metaphors and similes.
You are a woman with substance and I’m drawn to your melanin.
Each day I find more reasons to fall deeper in love with you.
On days when it gets easier to breathe and speak, I recommend wine.
I understand, that I may never fully understand you.
But after all, what’s the world without enigma?
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 4:08 PM UTC