"lineup" poems
Almost ruined it
I think she's worthy of a contract my bad you put up with my nonsense.
But I'm calm since you entered in my lineup-- and Common Sense says how about you Come Close
Never mind the chill from the shoulder I would give ya I was younger immature I was failing all my chores and I thought nothing more than when you gave me my allowance and I squirted on your flowers you're my flower girl
But instead of just waking down the isle baby, you on my mind fighting crime and my trust issues
Not limited to one type of style, she got a closet full of weapons-- no misuse
Margiela couldn't handle all this fire power your glass pumps on the dance floor Cinderella so before I seize the moment on this final hour let me start by being true to your Pink Matter.
See I'ma always try to steal a smile or take your heart so I'm trynna be your criminal no subliminal I said I want you front and center with your melanin skin like Tia or Tamera
I've got my grove back I'm feeling kind of Stella got me quitting all my games Michael Jordan after wizards I've finally taken interest so I saying what we doing with this, you finally got me so I'm saying:
I do.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 12:49 AM UTC
You don't love
me;
you love the
tip of the iceberg
that is your idea of me;
the sugar-coated mute
leading herds
of unfinished sentences
down the copious hills
of his insecurity;
the nice little writer
whose constant attempts
at legendary one-liners
are as hit-or-miss
as a sitcom still airing
far past its prime.
I possess three biomes,
or, rather, three networks
of personalities and identities.
I am much more than
the Jack Macfarland archetype
lip-syncing to Cher in the one
gay bar in town, tyrannically
governing your wardrobe,
possessing a razor-sharp wit
cast toward the backs of his community
in the form of an outdated punchline-
my work on that show
lost its Willful relevance
and Graceful naivete
years ago.
I am of the generation
fed media saturation
three four-hour meals a day,
who ingested cardboard cadavers
as if they were mother's milk
and internally mutated their
thoughts and desires
to fit the compact time frame
of 30 minutes
to settle the series' worth
of traumas and neuroses
while making it home for dinner
to stay tuned for what's
next in the lineup.
Speaking as a casualty of this
inevitable chain of events,
I regretfully declare that even
those who have seen
every episode of myself
for the past six seasons
are still light years away
from the room full of faces
unencumbered by euphemism.
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC
I love baseball.
The smell of the grass, the crack of the bat, the pop of ball hitting mitt.
I love baseball.
The friendship, the camaraderie, the seed shells littering the ground.
I love baseball.
From behind home plate, to the on deck circle, to the bullpen in right center field.
I love the fist bumps I recieve, entering the dug out after a well placed sac-bunt.
I love the hollers and cheers when the ball flies over the fence.
I love seeing the other players and knowing they love the same things as me.
Standing on the top step of the dug out, impatiently waiting for my spot in the lineup.
I love watching my shortstop tag out runner after runner.
I love my pitcher hitting his spots and I love our left fielder diving for pop flies.
I love catching and blocking ***** in the dirt.
I love the bruises I find on my body after every game.
I love keeping my foot on home plate before throwing over to first on a double play.
I love seeing the lights and hearing the cheers, knowing they're for me, my team, my sport.
I love baseball.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 12:51 AM UTC
We smelled your scent
we signed a lengthy confession
we drew a composite
and picked you out of a lineup
yet still you walked away
scott free
time we implicate you
a little bit more
...
A preponderance
of the evidence
suggests duct tape
over rope
you're my willing hostage
you love something about me
but this is all about
keeping you quiet
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 9:49 AM UTC
About that starting lineup,
well I think I missed the gun
but just as well
took off for other places~
I longed for mountains majesty
and all those things I hoped to see,
while others stayed
and loved familiar faces.
Some married and they bore their young,
or college-bound for work and fun
or tragedy,
well sometimes God just loses me~
The question of my failure
to connect with just one sailor,
what the heck, but strangely so,
it still amuses me.
I ponder of a hope,
that it's still possible,
within your scope,
and grateful for eleventh hour breakthroughs~
Still don't get what you wrote to me,
I bungled at the spelling bee,
you say the thing I'll get, is what I choose?
My mind it travels to and fro,
the world it feeds the input though,
and we must press the whey out from the curds~
And so I speak in vagaries,
of things to come which I can't see
but speak into reality,
if only by my words.
The power of the word,
to mezmerize and heal the hurt,
your eyes are beautiful
they've looked into my soul~
The wonder of your gaze,
it touches places, Dear,
I'd rather not be writing of,
our love, like epic poetry,
too much to share in whole.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 9:52 AM UTC
I argue the point and take a stand. How is eating food and sliding a fork in and out of your mouth so much different than a kiss? It is a sensational thing to be fully present for either but if I cannot be kissed I will eat like it is my ***
A hard chair. Sit upright. Dress right..or undress just right.Heels of course. No Tv. NO PC. Silence or the Cocteau Twins Treasure.
Treasure is the third studio album by Scottish alternative rock band Cocteau Twins. It was released on 1 November 1984, through record label 4AD. With this album, the band settled on what would, from then on, be their primary lineup: vocalist Elizabeth Fraser, guitarist Robin Guthrie and bass guitarist Simon Raymonde.
The album reached number 29 on the UK Albums Chart, becoming the band's first UK Top 40 album, and charted for 8 weeks.[9] It also became one of the band's most critically successful releases, although the band themselves have expressed dismay at it. Know your ******* music!
Sit proper and nice. Make a nice table setting-IMPRESS YOURSELF!!!! I mean **** who is in your mouth?? You have more sensations all over than you use..I might spank you if you do not do a nice setting and snap a photo..you know I want to sea green IT!!!
Now take the time to feel the complexity of the flavors built, skill involved-maybe a ******* KILT!
Feel the sliding of the FORK IN AND OUT..little strokes in your pout.
Let is slide so slowly out..feel the edges..nice and smooth..let it slide feel that tine groove.
Chew so succulent and slow..feel the textures and LET THOUGHTS GO
Feel the flow, taste everything within it sink below.
Belly warm, food is desire..imagination and being present is all that is required~
The best way to treat myself is some fine dining. Living watercress & Italian parsley- balsamic vinegar salad on the side of a tempting dish of white beans with sun dried tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, celery, cilantro,orange peppers and some garlic and chili paste with a lemon slice I ate right away and dashed the whole thing with a drizzle of balsamic. I did not taste test anything. I know what a good balance is. My meal was a 5 star worthy dish. I ate everything on my plate.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
I keep dreaming of you in that strawberry patch
we had – my backyard, 2007.
The barn was already haunted so I planted my nightmares
in bushels of berries for others to ingest –
you know the old fairytale about watermelon seeds,
well, it also works with spores of sadness.
I wish you could have seen it,
but you must have some time or another. You picked
me from a lineup of a hundred black-haired
offenders, most with blue eyes the color of a package
of ramen noodles or Pepsi cola cans.
Suggestions that I vend my fruit, their ovaries,
were fortified between phone calls from state-over friends
I just did not have the ovaries to do so, no strength:
it would feel like the hair being pulled from my scalp
before I even knew you.
Present day, it is easy to understand why –
I keep dreaming of you in that old strawberry patch
choosing to taste and love my sorrow
over someone else’s happiness, as if it were beautiful.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
after moving
shifting bodies, from here
to there
and back again
after seeing the time zones
float past my tired eyes
out the window of an airplane
new year's just isn't the same
january arrives in the future
and i am stuck, held back
in the past
waiting another three hours
for the clock to tick past twelve
so i can feel in time
with the rest of the world
i guess it's just a young cynic's view
on the big picture
but just the same, i give in
and every year i make my list
although lately, it's been in my head
and the lineup of wishes
gets shorter every time
and i arrived at the end of this december
with only three resolutions in mind
one
to find myself
to look past all those outward words
and blurred reflections
and improbable emotions
and find my inner demons
identify their faces
line them up like dominoes
shake their hands
and become friends
two
to know myself
to listen to my lines
as they trail off into cold air
to see through the bones in my body
and find the skeleton in my closet
so i can finally put him to rest
beneath my feet
to understand my own thoughts
and to read my own writing
and to listen harder
when i try and speak up
three
to love myself
as crafted as that sounds
this goal resounds within me
every time i catch my own eyes
and look away
it's just a young cynic's view
i know that, yes
but i like to think
that the simplest, oldest dreams
*to find myself
to know myself
to love myself*
are the ones i should hope to achieve
and as the clock bends time and space
and i am pulled forward
by my beating heart
i swear
to take that very first step
and finally know its weight
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
I can only remember very few liberating moments in my life:
That one time when my dad got mad because I sneaked out of the house to buy candy and when I went back to the house, he was crying. It was the first time that I saw him cry.
That time when I heard Earthmover live for the first time and it was raining hard. I was contemplating about my life, the future with a friend. Asking ourselves what might happen to us in 5 years. That was 2012 and I wish I had it all figured out by then. I was also drunk.
That time when I caught my first wave. I felt free and alive for the first time. I was so stoked, I almost cried as I paddled back to the lineup. Then I pigged out afterwards.
And that time when I went on a date with a stranger. Nothing super fancy, no pressures. A date that lasted for 8 hours. Went to work the next day with literally no shut-eye but my heart was happy.
A few months from now, I am going to marry that guy. Nothing fancy, but there will be a lot of ***** definitely. I’ll be marrying the guy who made me feel the exact same feeling when I caught my first wave, alive. I still haven’t figured everything out, and I guess I’ve accepted the fact that it’s okay. And how I wish I could see my dad cry when he sees me in my white dress. But that's something that would never happen.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 12:59 AM UTC
You must be the coolest kid in school,
A common sense level of 102 out of 100,
Clearly you know it’s not their fault for clustering words together like peanut butter is stuck in the back of their throats.
Your parents must find you the nicest kid in the world, as long as you are the only person they know.
If you treat them like a 5 year old,
They might still watch spongebob,
But not because it’s the greatest show on T.V. history,
But because they want to bring back their childhood before they got picked on.
Getting picked on for having a brain that works like a factory without an assembly line.
For caring more about everyone around them to feel like their normal,
when in reality,
No one is normal.
You make them fill up water bottles for star players but if you look deeper in the lineup,
they’re the real MVP’s
I know you cant stand going social Suicide for a day by sitting with them even though, they would give you a ribcage and a Heart beat if your chest ever gets attacked by emotion..
If god did create this world he obviously had some kind of disorder,
why else would he randomly choose the colors Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Violet, And purple to create a rainbow. Because he wanted to show people with disorders have beauty on the inside too..
If some dreams actually do come true, I hope the Nightmare I had the other night about everyone going back to their normal lives and not being affected by this is, just my imagination going crazy.
We should all be able to look in the mirror and not pity ourselves for how we look or act or even how our mind functions because there is a never ending chain of someone having it worse, you just need to get the telescope out and find it, like a twinkling star that shines the brightest in all others hearts.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 5:04 PM UTC
I wasn't her best friend
But I knew her pretty well
She was at the roller rink
But when she left, I couldn't tell
The music in the rink was way too loud
She was always with the wrong crowd
Yesterday her Daddy talked to me
He said she lived in his heart
And that without her, her Momma couldn't live
He said they were taking it really hard
And that today they were to shoot their Christmas card
And he broke down in tears
When we were younger we used to kiss
Beneath the stars in the cemetery
We were both the morbid kind
And at the time, the future was secondary
I never could've foreseen something like this
But like I said, she was fast and she liked the guys
The guys who carried guns
I never knew their names because they were from different towns
But I could pick their faces from a mile away
Just show me a lineup, Judy show me the suspects
Do you mind if I ask you why you're looking at me that way?
I told you everything I know
And flashing that shiny gun isn't doing anything
Just let me know, let me know, let me know when I can go
I know my rights
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
If only ripping out a heart was like
removing the pit from a peach, I would have hundreds
in a police lineup
and could point to hers —
officer, she is the one that ruined me.
Those black spots on my lungs
was not because I smoke, rather, they came from
the time she put a cigarette lighter
to my chest and set all my love on fire.
And that kidney I am missing, it would not be the
first ***** she took
to be able to **** right onto my soul.
He wants to kiss my eyelids while I sleep
but I have none,
I have not closed my eyes for almost a year, yet
the whole time I have been
having nightmares of burn-holes.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 7:21 PM UTC
The cookies had gone missing
the cops wanted to know
So they gathered up all the old men
for a cookie lineup show
The witness was confused
they all looked the same
One of them had mustache crumbs
so, that's the one
he blamed
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 11:21 AM UTC
I woke up this morning the crack of dawn and
now I'm yawning as I proceed to ask myself why
why the mess up?
All you had to do was the lineup,
instead you put the clip down and let it sagged.
Dawg, I had big respect for you
but you gonna let it fly.
I tried,
but recently your cut game caught weak
and it hurts.
The other day, you said
"things have changed, it ain't a 10 dollar game
mans have to pay 15 to get a sweet fade"
so I paid.
it's obvious now as
price goes up, performance goes down.
All I get is a messy fade,
and a sagging bearded line.
I think i will have to cut the beard
and let it grow back.
The cut game is an extreme sport,
especially when things go bad
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 1:49 PM UTC
I'm bad with dates and names and numbers
But I know the color of your eyes matches the sky in the middle of June before the rainstorm hits Florida
And I know that your skin is the same shade of tawny as the deck on the porch of my mother's best friend's vacation home back in Michigan
And I know that your hair is just as soft as the kittens I pet in the shelter where I cried because I had to pick only just one
And I can pick your scent out of a lineup of boys with every single variation of Axe body spray spread among them
So I can't remember the day we met, or the name of your grandmother or the number of times we have kissed or held hands
But I am a writer, and the essence of your life will never die as long as I have a pen and a paper
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 7:29 PM UTC
i saw a strange sight
at the bus station last night
an old white ten speed blender
waiting in line for the bus
sitting there on the pavement
it seemed passive and patient
in that mad rush-hour lineup
and it was the only one
that remained unplugged
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
I. The Assassin
Smoke and dust
suck oxygen
from his puny lungs
as he rises on an
ancient freight elevator
At the warehouse window,
he assumes a darker mask,
his bony finger
tracing the trigger's curve,
his beady eyes narrowing in
on the slow moving target:
that famous sculpted
head of state
so perfect
in the plaza light
Finally he will plummet -
a bruised puppet
slipping through
a surreal night,
a phantom of smoke and dust
blinking in the glare
of a Dallas lineup
II. The First Lady
Her deep whispery voice
unspools a reel of film:
crowds, blinding sun,
a promise of shade
in the distance,
then a sudden odd quizzical look
on her husband's face
She recalls that moment
of slow motion shock:
that serrated piece of his skull
floating lazily
in a blur
toward
her
bright
pink
lap
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
I can't shut my brain off,
A million voices run around,
Whispering their ideas,
As I try to cut through the sound,
A hundred different things,
That I'd like to do today,
I'll only complete a few, before my life wastes away,
Silence,
I haven't had it in a while,
Even when it's quiet,
The little voices like to shout,
They unleash my imagination,
Never getting bored,
With all their fascination,
Mentally, I'm always on the go,
It only stops, when I let my eyes close,
But first thing when I wake up,
Those little voices lineup
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
I'm a understanding guy
If you give me a chance, you'll know why
You have bigger fish to fry
Than to get stuck into somebody's web
I'm not here to control you
I'm not here to keep you captured in my cage
You're the other half of me
So I want you to be relaxed
You can do what you want
Im not going to stop your elation
You can play around with other women
As long as you tell me
I don't care
It won't bother me
It you tell me what you're doing
Trust is what keeps things alive
I'm trustworthy with others
So that shouldn't be exempt here
I'm ready to preserve
On being the best for you
Your top ace
Of the lineup
If you show me that you really love me and that you really care, and go the extra mile to prove it to me that you do
I will be grateful forever
You can be free and you
You're not my property
I'm just the man you chose to be with
That special one
You want to spend the rest of your life with
I'm perfectly happy with that
You created a happy man
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 8:30 PM UTC
It's an old saying that to know
Whether one's love is true
You must first have a sip
Of the coffee they will serve you
The coffee, cozy and warm
The blend should be right
The sweetness not heavy
The creaminess not too light
A cup full of warmth
The perfect cup of joe
A blend to suit only you
There's more to tell you though
The old saying is incomplete
They forgot to mention
They left something out
Something that we should've known
Like coffee, love can be too hot
Singeing and scalding its way
It can also be served cold or chilled
Iced coffee isn't that bad anyway
Though it can be bitter or too sweet
You might be lucky to get the best lineup
The perfect blend of coffee served
But you're not the only one with the same cup
The entire room was swallowed
With the intoxicating scent of coffee
Found on the old wooden table
Is your mug, the same but now empty
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 10:14 AM UTC
we smelled your scent
we signed a lengthy confession
we drew a composite
and picked you out of a lineup
yet still you walked away
scott free
...time we implicate you
a little bit more
Jan 18, 2020
Jan 18, 2020 at 8:13 PM UTC
Dark draped and pliant as ink; resting on the pinpricks of stars and their steel pins.
Wrapping and bundling us in a pose of obstinance and theory; still alive but inert with the weight of nothingness.
Seeking and pulling into a container of black soup, the strength of fear was no match for sharing.
Once, a race began to meet on the other side of spatial creation; opposite but circling like sexed schoolmates on a crisp autumn day.
Time as full as galaxies and their grandchildren, never slowing to consummate a dream.
Air still beatable, vapor fogging the porthole of eternity to leave only a thought. Many thoughts in lineup, creating a community of ideas and filling the vessel with voice.
Moving, transcended outside into the film, looking back to the throng; mightily laughing at the joy of one.
Gulping stars like candy and dust from the crest of curling waves; removing the glue and melting into an orb of amniotic stew.
Knowing one, being one, as one.
I can sleep on my pillow of love and eternal travel.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC
Vast unwanted prairies hovering on mediation techniques,
The primary and secondary sources exist,
A well-spoken dialogue isn’t contemporary for you,
To want a Trinity amplifies organization,
The 5 love languages foreshadow “limited warranty”
Stomping elderberries while consuming champagne,
A 300-watt incandescent light bulb allows me to gaze through the negative of you,
Honeysuckles enthrall lucky moths,
Clones materialize formal breeding,
Standard, Somatic, React, Receive to Receive, and Idiom
Fantasying a gloomy unpredictable picnic for 2021’s lineup,
Freeloading basic cable complicates structure,
How would I consistently reboot without revolving doors?
How would the emergency signs operate without Pantone's?
Oozing tension, the adrenal cortex working overtime, and I lack a spine
Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 11:42 PM UTC
What do you want for yourself, future wise?
I want a future in literature,
A doctorate in English arts,
And a lineup of books for people to read.
No, what do you really want?
Okay, I want a loving wife,
A happy home somewhere warm,
And a pair of kids, daughter and son.
Feb 5, 2025
Feb 5, 2025 at 9:50 AM UTC
He woke up like he was in a police lineup
Almost flunking out never became a regret
The library wasn’t exactly where they met
The people he knew are still his friends
The ones that are gone he’ll never forget
He smoked a few packs every ten years
But he didn’t really smoke you know
It was easy to quit ‘cause it was all for show
Not being paid for acting never mattered
A friend is being planted in the same row
He thanked Jesus enough to be noticed
He never felt worthy enough to pray
Who asks for what they can’t give away
It’s hard being an artist with limits
So he said the hurt will never play
He didn’t want anyone to take care of him
It was hard because he kept his own mind
He was going to learn on his own time
She told him he didn’t want a family
He said he already left his mom behind
But one day he noticed his children
That was the reason for living now
That old prayer was telling him how
He still dreamed of long flowing hair
But it’s love that his life won’t allow
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 10:10 PM UTC