"loos" poems
my subject, mrs. ((brown?))
for this speech is
going to be: obesity. ish.
you see I remember
the article you handed out to us,
loos-leafed,
fresh-pressed,
a dry white piece that told,
in simplest terms,
the most inarguable & bland facts
about !healthy eating & !weight loss!
but mrs ((whatever)), I want
to tell n and the entire
******* crisp class,
that obesity is a load
of steaming ****
from someone who’s really fucki
ng sick (you know how much
better it stinks then)
that obesity
was made to be glorified,
I don’t tell you this—
I ****** jiggle it to you,
grab my santa clause puch and
shove it at you--
tick tock
we wait for the clock
to tell us what
s to come,
except it makes us guess
--see this:
a mid-age woman, mother,
fat & previously fat,
goes in for stabbing pain in the chest, or
chronic diarrhea,
seeing stars & no energy left.
((this happens))
the doctor says,
well let’s weigh you n see
if you’ve lost
the weight I told you to lose before
remember Sharol
now Sharol..,,,, sweety…..
you weigh 55.62 lbs over the
state-set “healthy limit”k,
so we’re just gonna give u these
diet pills & I promise they work,.
all nach-yer-awl u see, none of that
waterweight ******** [! excuse my language]
and in about 3 months you’ll lose
half that overweight,
and I promise the starsll go away and you’ll
feel right tip top okay now that’ll be
$60 & come bac k in a month to tell me
how much you’ve lost okay
haha but that’s alrightright?
she was unhealthy
&
doctors make you healthy
only her brain cancer maybe, or like, colon
cancer or literally anything other obesity
kills her in about 3 months
bc the **** doctor would only
pretend that she cared
what
was
wrong with Sharol, sweety…,,,
im sharol and so are you and
so is your uncle & so is
your mother, probably
because most of us are “obese”
& the only cure for obesity
is the cure for the term
“obesity” you see
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
As when a pigeon, loos'd in realms remote,
Takes instant wing, and seeks his native cote,
So speed my blessings from a barb'rous clime
To thee and Providence at Christmas time!
6.7k
even teddy said i got the sickest tricks brah.
like my abilities source from some kinda legendary liquid
/ praise the lord /
monster energy should sponsor me.
a kickflip over the king’s *** hole
& a halfcab for the looky-loos.
i feel so tall when i climb that heap of asphalt trimmings
& see clear from the water tower to the bluffs.
gimme a good day, any day at the bluffs,
bottlerockets & girly birds.
her body brings a swarm of worms.
decomp,
said the f.b.i. men one by one with tweezers.
not quite the homecoming queen, still
wrapped in plastic.
look up.
see that great mess of wires, nest of powerlines and owl bones?
it crackles and croons its electro-spectral purr
all night and day.
new neck tat &
cody spends his paycheck on a crossbow.
we target practice on a bull skull.
wet cigarettes and turpentine-soaked socks for a good huff
in the dry of the roofline as it dumps.
there’s that little boy in a ghost mask again, tap-dancing
in puddles below the streetlamp,
& oversized shoes.
his grandmoms always be watchin’ from the window.
[whispers] she’s teaching him magic.
lucky unit 19: where our young dead damsel once dolled
herself up, you see
men and headlights would roll thru thrice nightly,
maybe more.
& i remember her punch red lips &
big whicker hat; while she weeded and watered her garden of begonias.
the sheriff’s deputy, hart? hicks? hogan? well he loved her a bunch.
stole her clothes in the middle of the night,
& sat beside the river sobbing into clumped fists
of bra and blouse.
i bought ******* from that guy once or twice.
harold? howard?
guess who showed his face today?
josiah, from unit 08.
since the incident with molly’s beagle, he’s been rarely seen.
took a bee line straight for the mailbox.
a package. a prize. a decoder ring/secret map sweepstakes
to be seen and deciphered.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
"Memory is more indelible than ink."
—Anita Loos
~
*Europe, after the rain,
the sun lending warmth and comfort.
fringes come into focus.
shadow journal,
fiscal dreams,
becoming ****** lines on a page;
procession bells
for young brides,
veiled in lace.
a touch from her
outstretched hands,
this honeymoon phase
running up the thigh,
the holding quite still until
she smiles for pendulum.
at first light, breakfast in bed,
granting pastel wishes on
boxing night,
then a letting go of the kite string.
new fingers in the medicine bottle,
tiny geometries
inside a house of reciprocal numbers.
paradise in mnemonic children:
cartwheels and handstands,
coloring books of
neglected spaces,
future ruins.
one hundred violins
play to isles of ignorance,
stray embers settle
along the solemn Chemin De Fer (railway).
a catalogue of afternoons
on the bike path
thru propeller seeds and dragonflies.
arriving in the haloed flesh:
skin dive,
the place of couloir descent;
**** beach,
the place of odd glances;
gun chamber,
the room of secondary light;
all horizon variations.
an algebra of darkness,
this dense Roman twilight,
their exiles unreflected
in blind lanterns.
our brightness will become
refracting silhouettes,
a broken yolk in the incendiary sky.*
~
Aug 29, 2022
Aug 29, 2022 at 12:38 PM UTC
In futurity
I prophesy see.
That the earth from sleep.
(Grave the sentence deep)
Shall arise and seek
For her maker meek:
And the desart wild
Become a garden mild.
In the southern clime,
Where the summers prime
Never fades away;
Lovely Lyca lay.
Seven summers old
Lovely Lyca told,
She had wandered long.
Hearing wild birds song.
Sweet sleep come to me
Underneath this tree;
Do father, mother weep.—
“Where can Lyca sleep”.
Lost in desert wild
Is your little child.
How can Lyca sleep.
If her mother weep.
If her heart does ake.
Then let Lyca wake;
If my mother sleep,
Lyca shall not weep.
Frowning, frowning night,
O’er this desert bright.
Let thy moon arise.
While I close my eyes.
Sleeping Lyca lay:
While the beasts of prey,
Come from caverns deep,
View’d the maid asleep
The kingly lion stood
And the ****** view’d:
Then he gambolled round
O’er the hallowed ground:
Leopards, tygers play,
Round her as she lay;
While the lion old,
Bow’d his mane of gold,
And her ***** lick,
And upon her neck,
From his eyes of flame,
Ruby tears there came;
While the lioness
Loos’d her slender dress,
And naked they convey’d
To caves the sleeping maid.
2.4k
Godless men wearing back
sit within blistering sun.
As they carrying their sacred book
soaked in an evil not from any GOD.
And they some how get
**** **** ****
**** for God.
As they ironically tell the
world that it is
blaspheming.
Come and join us
or be buried alive.
Yes come and join us
Let us brutalize and castrate
your daughter your child.
And give your son a gun while
we go cut of some heads.
As we rip out your heart
with blood and violence.
And ask you to spit on all
love and humanity.
As you stand within your shaking bodies
you look into the eyes of your
wife and only see terror in
her heart.
You know that you must
RUN
Thousands of you are swept
like the dirt into the sea.
Mothers and Fathers crying as
children are lost and drowning.
Someones baby washed up like
drift wood or a log.
Cut all with razor wire
climbing caged out fences.
As a heart cry's I only want a
new family home I will polish
your shoes wash all your loos.
Please they scream we are only
human
Sorry I don't think anyone
is listening.
Westerners wake up lounging
on their sofa belly's spilling
over their trouser.
Stomachs extended inflated
from just a little to much
extra seconds.
Looking on disconnected
at those who traveled risked
their lives even walked
a thousand miles.
And some how spill out with
their lager down their cheek
thieves ****** and
lazy freeloaders.
And those who succeed to
find a new home some how
elegantly find a dignity
in being unwanted.
And those who failed their
perilous path trust in God
has left them homeless
As they find the west
also Godless.
As we with a cool glare tell
them go back to your guns
bombs your not welcome
here.
Stone face matter of fact
immigration explained
take your children back.
As we try to through them
back like babies into a dog
or snake pit.
SHAME ON US
for this frosty reception
and cloudy perception
I hold out hope for a
better conclusion.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 4:53 AM UTC
Flashes of lightening in darkness freeze the moment
A freight train of thunder rumbles across the night sky
I love to sleep with the girl whose love spans the miles
Your sleepy voice hello makes my heart beat faster
Distant Vienna ballet memories and Loos bar champagne
I love to wake with the girl whose cuddles chase the cold
Lost alone in this big bed your comforting arms are absent
Together in dreams but our bodies chill with the distance
I love to be loved by the girl with the beautiful smile
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 11:12 AM UTC
Pressure to be pretty in the unearthly hours of the morning
Eyes pulled down by bags, bloated and yawning
Eyeliner and lipgloss and concealer thick and fast
Covering the callouses, praying it'll last
looking good and smelling good and in the peak of health
Its all an uphill struggle to better your fine self
Judged by a jury of unexperienced youths
Panicing at lunchtime, retouching in the loos.
Hair and eyes and lips and cheeks and clothing and skin
Bottle after bottle, empty in the bin
Scraping and slathering, plucking and plastering.
The never ending problem, thats actually, within.
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 1:52 PM UTC
sun sizzle pop-rock hopscotch round the rowdy block of troubled spots,
and iron-lock your dirt-soaked sock to a gumdrop your friend forgot the last time you stopped to watch the lilies bloom
in slow motion loop-de-loos.
sinking smooth waterloos,
darling just look at you! beaming with gooey honey dripping sooloos -
woohoo baby!
the lazy river bends her neck to spend extra time with the water bed,
so shed your excuses and wear your heart on the tippy-top of your head,
if it falls, mend it by sending ends of threads spinning fractal patterns round the edge,
crafting a hand-patched garden to bake batches of laughter from.
latching your fingers, pull and tug those weeds into soot underfoot tearing remnants of long lost looks your lover took and shook off your balcony in a hazy dream.
alchemy your bones to seeds
and feed them with tears of gold sweet memories.
reading poetry from socrates thumb
won't translate the sacred humming running through your chest,
only you can sing the refrain of broken hymns and lift the soul from the rims of the black hole pit.
the universe lives in you, don't forget.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
Monochrome buildings pave the way,
It's another monotonous day at the office.
And so starts my favourite routine
The required daily dose of caffeine
Sickly sweet sugar supplements
Occasional visits to the gents
Where in the tranquility
I can ponder what I'd like to be...
...Living so high the clouds are the sea,
No responsibilities!
I don't have to dress,
The butler can take care of the mess.
Jacuzzis, cruises, friends who I choose,
Admiring reflections in gold plated loos',
But perhaps I digress...
...Back to reality I guess.
If time flies when you're having fun,
Then pressing keyboards all day long
Makes every second crawl a marathon!
But I can multitask a bit.
I can breath and walk and talk and sit
While simultaneously pressing a button
And at the same time doing next to nothing!
But even then I can scavenge my mind,
And if I'm lucky I will find
That little paradise of mine...
...And faster than the eye can see,
I am covered in girls in bikinis
Whilst crashing Lamborghinis
Into modern art reflections,
Of my many types of perfection.
And I'll roll out, unharmed and afar
There's a feast for my eyes like caviar...
And if you find that hard to believe,
My imagination comes for free!
So I understand your private confession
That I must have the perfect profession.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 6:19 AM UTC
the city is pink
the clouds are close
the sun will sink
pubs will flood
pavement splattered
with tipsy chatter
from ****** clubs
glass shattered
and mornings knackered
the strangers that find me strange
The heave of an alleyway in a drunken sway
movement
students
cocktails
drunken wails
pool cues
ques for loos
beer gardens
feeling disheartened
potions creating feeling
to disobey trust
emotions blinded
by unnecessary lust
addictive needs
swift gulps of a remedy
morning bleeds
and my head is the enemy
delaying the night to be over
as i wander slow pace
the thought of being sober
the people and the look of my face
the clouds cry as I stare at the sky
I turn down to the puddles to untangle my troubles
the endless struggle to this puzzle
the sky is grey
I run to the train
panting in dismay
at a city full of pain
in a happiness debt
that the journey might reset
I blink
I missed my train
but the city is in pink
I live to love it
I make myself think
so I head to the bar
and I buy a drink
Dec 19, 2022
Dec 19, 2022 at 7:24 PM UTC
Color Balloons
Oh, to live on top of the highest mountain
in a castle of a dark cold love
a place I never wanted to be I love summers breeze
please let me be free like a balloon
Though my sad lonely years holding on too dreams
praying to here I will be leaving soon
that I have past my test with no regrets
It's so noisy at the fair far away from here
I love the sound of kids playing around
I bite all my old friends are there
dancing around given candy kisses to a happy clown
little ones holding on to their mother and father
not making a fuss of who is around them
but if they only known the eyes that is hunting them
Oh, to live on the top of a darken mountain
I can see a lot from my darken bedroom
If only they could see me too
Oh, colored balloons of a beautiful moon you see it too
There's a girl just down the away losing her way
Oh please don't turn to the lying eyes because it will hurt
the pains of him will cut deep within your soul
please walk away with a smile on your face knowing
you said no to the **** let your color balloons loos
let them fly high into the midnight sky
I pray you had read all my words I had ever written
can you hear my tears fall from my bedroom window
words of my silence
Words of a woman missing
Did anyone read the hidden note of me?
Oh, to live on top of that cold darken mountain
locked away in a darken dream up in a castle praying for
true Love to find me to break the spell that was put on me
oh, colored balloons fly high away into the midnight sky
I want to see freedom even if it is only make believe it is me
I know I am underneath the stairs that shine so bright
giving back some glares for wishes to be made
To the people who never dreams to people who do dream
to the people who sleeps in peace
Thinking of your freedom like the color balloons
You're leaving too soon you want to be alone
please hold on to what you have and be glad
never look back at your broken down past
if you do look back you may not find your way back.
Poetic Judy Emery © 1982
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 8:39 PM UTC
*Do not judge
But be aware
Be observant
No need to stare
When friends stumble
Or loos their way
Be ready to listen
To what they have to say
To themselves
They may not admit
While in front of them
You may sit
Releasing feelings
Reliving stress
To outsiders
Just a mess
Given time
Their pain may ease
With sympathy
From one who sees*
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
Lookie Loos
Hands in my sweater's hole,
Life chokes me
on mother's words.
If I close my eyes, maybe they won't notice.
I looked great in photos,
Me, Tasha, and Shawn.
I dive into broken glass,
Oh, this stings,
and how do ya like me now?
Giving lookie loos something else to chat.
Wild birds need air.
Papers rolled, no stems, seeds,
Just a pencil line
separates tragedy from clarity.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 10:47 AM UTC
I played **** jams and watched the **** cams
Without any doubt about dying
A waltzing Victorian casually avoiding IEDs
Bombs without brand names
My eyes grew sleek my fingers black
There was so much in my peripheral vision
That I hardly cared to look ahead
Bright dust motes in swarms of sun and color
My internal temperature dropped, my teeth grew
At night I slept in a hammock
With a cat at my feet
If there was a war like the looky-loos say
It never felt that way
Though I'm sure I did my share
My low chuckling at the sight of blood
Even from my child's knee
Assures me that I did my share.
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 3:40 AM UTC
'I will find you'
Sun hate you, why you are so bright..
Moon see you, he lost his moonlight
It's your shine n 'Theia' loos her eyesight..
It's secret between Me and you
&Promise to keep, I will find you
Your coloufull soul that flower steal colours
It's so enriched mind, that 'Chrysos' begs you gold and dollars
Mansoon feel jealous, why just for 'you' rain showers..
It's gossip between me and you
& promise to keep, I will find you
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 6:31 AM UTC
when excavating demons you excessively salivate; and then become self-conscious asking for a hanky to sniff into.
a simplicity of language
beckons death to be nearing -
and if not taking
then vainly empowering -
lost in a photograph,
to no of the two claims' avail -
no wolf ****** what the she
already does; oh come on,
here the man, here the Zeus ****
cos' that's what it loos like!
******** the **** of a cow to get the cool.
you missing a ******* from the Albert Hall?
huh?! ****** let me chisel one into
your ******** so i can feel the proper rattle.
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 11:18 PM UTC
You did this to me
Your the only one I ever trusted
Then you cheat on me
I've stood for a lot of ****
Took beatings for you
Stomped *** for you
But I have a line
And you crossed it
I forgive a lot of ****
But I don't know
If I can forgive this one
You went to far this time
I will never forget this
I hope you know
You might loos the best man
You will ever find
I love you
I always will
I love your daughter
I love her like my own
I will never stop doing for her
No matter what happens
I will do and do for her
I love both of you
More than anything
But I don't know
If I can stand for it anymore
My body can't take anymore
I have no heart because of you
It's gone
You ripped it out
Crushed it
And stomped it in the dirt
And I still don't know why
Please tell me why
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
'Cape Town
is not in SA,'
she said.
My mind darts back to
the bus.
We sit
in an overly-cooled double-decker
like sweating bottles in a plastic cooler-box
- jerking and clunking and
squirming - skin stuck to PVC comfort
and upstairs,
breezing through
the city, taking in the sights.
Tourists.
I am a tourist in my own country.
We all are
because we cannot
span a hierarchy in
one lifespan.
For those that doubt -
let it be known that our land
is rich.
It can be noted in our gold
which brought the interest of European nations -
attracted to the glow of ore and the glint in our river rocks,
allowing them to watch
our brown-skinned beauties,
with clay pots and earthy skins beaded
with sweat, sway away
only to follow them
(not with sight alone)
and surrender the crown jewels
to enrich our land - a new born culture.
They knew our land was fertile.
They saw the potential of our fruit.
They brought the slaves with them.
They gave us coloured children,
European red in their veins and now picking white grapes off the vines.
They never wanted to leave
so they fermented,
barreled, corked.
They gave us jobs and homes and vaalwyn.
They took a lot
- our gold, our jewels, our women, our soil -
but they introduced
diversity.
We are rich.
But why is he so poor?
Don't look now
but on your left is a beggar.
Coloured,
clothes discoloured.
Unaware of our presence,
he digs through the refuse with a
growling stomach.
We all stare -
a double-decker full of eyes aimed
at the oblivious forager -
I turn my gaze.
How is it that we have
so much and so little
at the same time?
How is it that our president spends our income on Nkandla
and not this boy?
How is it that Helen and Patricia put up portable loos along the shanty fence
but have forgotten to feed this poor soul?
How is it possible for me to sit in uncomfortably icy air
while my brother burns under the glare of my fellow travelers?
He and I,
we are of the same land.
We are both rich.
Yet both of us display a reality
that neither of us truly deserves.
'Cape Town is in SA,'
I say.
We just have no idea.
Ignorance is indeed blissful
but it is also most wasteful.
Our land is rich and our people
deserve more than a blind eye.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 2:36 PM UTC
my father is a blind man.
heavy drooping lids with even heavier dripping blood.
i am his failure that was only good at one thing.
swimming past the others.
and maybe i'm not the perfect daughter;
maybe you weren't expecting the *** or drugs or parties or ****** language,
but **** you for acting like it meant i was dead.
you do not own me.
you will not write my eulogy when i finally succeed after failed attempts.
you will not say how i had a beautiful heart and YOUR sense of humor.
i will write my own goodbye letter.
and yes, maybe every i love you feels like a swallowed, searing coal.
and yes, maybe my signature at the bottom of the loos-leaf sheet of blood-stained paper will remind you to acknowledge your two other children, and stop saying that i am your favorite.
i am not your favorite.
you should be willing to stay for a favorite.
so leave me the **** alone
to bleed in peace.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
To my dearest darling Joe
I had to let you know of fun that we have had on our latest holiday, I know you would get such a kick out of the tales we have to tell.
It was a last minute all inclusive deal, we set out with Sue and Steve for some late autumn sun to Zante the Greek island of fun.
Oh Joe I cannot tell you the colour of the seas, so clear so blue I can't do them justice, if you could see a picture it may be a start but in theses seas you can see to the bottom and the sand is white and dark.
No seaweed in sight nor turtles too, it's too late this time of year but olive trees and lemon, lime, oranges and grapefruit are everywhere and handy for a bite, that's right I put my hand up and plucked an orange from the tree, oh Joe your mouth would explode, it tasted so divine.
The people are oh so friendly and they make it very clear that the sun in the sky is unusual at this time of year.
We hired a car and drove into the mountains and dropped down to a port, hired a boat and they took us to shipwreck cove, where some years ago a boat had shipwrecked and it's cargo cleared the sea, we swam and dived in the clear blue sea underneath clear blue sky, oh and some people were tightroping across the ravine, I'm afraid I didn't have the courage to join them in the sky but I lied down and watched them heroically cross from end to end.
We've eaten traditional food and drank traditional ***** and used the traditional loos, do you remember the ones in the south of France that mum and I refused to use, we'll these were exactly the same. We've laughed and cried recanting tales of days goneby.
It really has been delightful a holiday to remember, one I wish I could tell you all about, I know you would sit and laugh with me as I retell the fabulous holiday we have had to catch some sun on the Greek island of fun, Zante.
I love you Joe **
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
Have you ever seen
a moon as thee
look at how it shines
like there are no pains in life
I had never seen
such a thing like this,
Look ! over there
a castle standing strong
deep into Septembers air
in the dark of a nasty storm
you could hear the tears fall
from Moonlights room ,
Look! ships are out upon the sea
moving along like a sad song
silence while the wind blows
quiet and Liston to the sounds
the wind whispers pains of yesterdays
cries that hunts the night ,
Oh, have you ever seen eyes like his
dark with yellow and some red
almost as ****** as moon
On the sea is many dreams
but nothing as painful as this ,
The winds are moving
holding much angry
pushing the waves along
like a rhyme of the night
holding on to fright
voices speaking out from far
in a unknown tongue
that would put you on the run ,
Darken dreams that will make you scream
and put in in a world of darkness
a place you never want to go
a place you will never miss
you can see many things
in the dark that will cut away at your heart,
you will loos your mind if you let it
death is the frost of all men
glimmer lights that shine so bright
up into the tallest room
way up high is Moonlight,
Up in the castle is her window
with a candle lite
Up in that cold darken room
you could see Moonlight crying
because Dark Angel broken her wings
He is so mean ,
she wants to be free
but he has cast a spell on her
she is so weak
but she could no longer fly
deep into the sky,
she is locked away in darken dreams
No one could ever hear her screams,
whispers of the night
brings on fright
no love ever comes to her
but the pains and rain
comes every day
like a thief in the night
chills and dampness is in her room .
Poetic Lilly Judy Emery (c)
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 1:36 AM UTC
The lights are out
in this darken old town
the cats are hungry
the rooms are cold and lonely ,
In the kitchen
all the dishes are *****
the icebox is empty
just like the old house
with lots of rats
the old cats loves to eat them ,
I have my dreams
but my dreams are taken over me
so I try so hard not to sleep
so I write down my thoughts
in my own blood stain Ink ,
the roof makes so much sounds
when the wind blows around town
the trees loos their leaves
upstairs is many rooms
but each door that becomes open
has a new pain of dreams ,
The lights are out
in this old town
you can see the clown
getting beat down the street
Dark Angel is making his rounds
gathering up the clowns
that around around this old town .
Poetic Lilly Judy Emery (c)
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 3:51 PM UTC