"lordy" poems
Commitment
I don't know how this works
This commitment thing is new for me
I went down in flames the first time
Who's to say it's not going to happen again?
Will I hurt you like I hurt the last?
Will I start over this never ending cycle?
Commitment
That word is both terrifying and beautiful
It signifies everything I want
But those are the things I fear
Can I give myself to someone so wholly that they are part of my being?
Can I trust someone with that?
Can I truly even love?
Commitment
Oh Lordy
That word incites fear once again, but I'm getting there
I'm coming to terms with it but that nagging won't stop
Will it actually work out?
Commitment
I will commit
At least that's what I'm going to tell myself
And I will not hurt them
Commitment
I'm ready for you
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 3:41 AM UTC
In the darkness,
I become tangled in your fingertips,
legs,
and sweat soaked sheets.
Your body rocks and moves against mine
in perfect motion
As you whisper how you want
to "make love to me."
That’s what you called it.
But I’d never done that before,
I didn’t even think people still called it that.
But once you said it,
all I wanted to do was...
make love...
to you too..
Now,
baby,
I'm not saying I love you,
or anything like that.
Don’t smile that smile like you’ve enchanted me.
Because I refuse to make that commitment
or give you that much.
Cause see,
I've got things to see
and people to do
and I can't be in love right now.
it's not a good time..
Is it for you...?
..cause if you say it first
I'll jump at the chance to tell you
that when I'm with you,
I soar.
Your fingertips send sparks from my skin
and the sweat dripping
down your caramel complexion
leaves me hungry.
Hungry for your lips on my lips
and your body on mine,
and lord oh lordy,
I might need a minute
excuse me..
Baby see,
when I'm with you
I can smell the scent of your country
taste the exotic taste on your tongue.
and it sends me to far away places and distant lands.
sends me to other planets.
I'm so high off the scent of us,
I'm lightheaded just thinking about you.
****
And you laugh at me
because I breath a little harder
when you whisper in your native tongue.
"¿Te gusta eso?"
you ask.
And I'm not sure what you're saying
so I just say yes..
and you keep on going with your secret words
losing me in your translations
to the point where I don't wanna be found.
So let's stay in this limbo forever..
because you got me so high baby,
so high,
I never wanna come down.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
i met her at the crow bar -
a mescalero from amarillo
- her name was lily
and she was in from the field
wearing tiger stripe camos
cut short like i like 'em
and she liked to hike them
- all commando
she had a tattered boony hat -
a kevlar vest and a tat
that said - the wild, wild west -
her shoulder holsters
were packed with two .40s
- lordy, lordy -
she said they bolstered her
fire power
we were commando stylin'
...on the blue mesa.
12/5/14
:)
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
I love my gun.
I love my gun.
You can drink and chase your women
Till the morning sun,
But Lordy,
how I love my gun.
From the time I get to work
My blood begins to boil,
When I think of gettin' home
To rub her down with oil.
With her **** against my shoulder
Lookin' down her sights,
I could hold her in my arms
And keep her close all night.
Well, my trigger-finger's itchin'
for a little fun...
Lordy how I love my gun.
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 6:05 AM UTC
Saint Valentine's Day
A day of romance
just one day ?
what's that all about
Valentinus oh he who fought for love
and died for love
but who cares about that
it's not even February yet
and already people are a little crazier than usual
there’s the ones going on and on
about not having a date
true
it does seem criminal to be single on this day
But let's keep things gay
oh and then there's the boyfriends or crushes who bring flowers
chocolates
and maybe even one of those stuffed animals
holding a big red stuffed heart
that has I heart the letter U on it
then they'll lean in for the kiss
and that's how it'll all start
In her head she'll be going
"My mind's telling me no , but my body , my body's telling me yes"
and just like that you'll be set
because she'll be getting a little _ _ _
down there
and you'll get your Valentine's day ***
ew rated x
hopefully it's *** with love
hold up
What is up ?
Oh besides that of course (look down)
Get yourself a ****** and enough about that
Can't we love everyday
even if it isn't easy to say I love you
throw in a sweetheart here and an oh honey there
And the simple things
your matching rings
and what they mean
the catching of the other's eyes across the table
the accidental brushing of bodies
and you'll be blushing oh lordy
looking up only to see them smiling
What a perfect picture
isn't that what we all want
Even for those who have date after date with loneliness
There may be love
There must be love
three hundred and sixty-four other days
So much for Valentine's Day
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 1:45 AM UTC
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 2:34 PM UTC
Lordy it's a pretty day though
humidity may ruin the glue
must use less water or else
the whole contraption will fall apart-
balloons pop wire melts
oh no Machu Picchu is ruined
just a globby mess of beer bottles and pizza boxes
how can I describe
how you look like a less attractive Jason Segel
and not even nearly as cool
still pretty smart though
but something tells my brain
there are plenty more even better
maybe a male model with a heart of platinum-
or chocolate!
what a perfect man
eat your heart out.
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 2:12 PM UTC
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 1:28 PM UTC
earlyish
in the mourning
the moon
begins to rise
to the
dirtiest
consorting
in the room
between the thighs
forbidden fruit
from a filthy city
that ruins lives
so the troupe
snipped ribbons
ripped ties
flew the coupe
and found suit
elsewhere
Hell
thought it was provoking
when they
caught em
smoking loosies &
tagging in
elementary school
bathrooms &
peeping ****** movies for free
mercy me, a perturbing
flea ridden circus
ballyhoo at
high noon
just
look between
the alleyways
like pearly gates
adjacent to
& facing toward
the gallow stage
saved for traitors
& may I say
these are unhallowed days
triple x files.
furious grady stiles
walked the
daily eighty miles
to the liquor store for
his quick pick or maybe just
a curious
eye sore for bored out tricks
on the nearest corner &
the queerest gory ***** flicks for
a nickel a dime a quarter
&please;
- mind the camera -
hammer
sickle
sanskrit
star
prison bar
stripe
flock stickered on
the flickering light
mock bicker then its
quiet on the farm tonight
doesn't seem right
the sicker sheep seek
sleepless nights
in the street
took Darwinian flight &
a diving leap
to diamond minds
thicker fleece &
meaner teeth
drinking on cheap forties
sneakin up on sweet
***** mother glory
lordy.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
.
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 2:30 PM UTC
Cast a glance to the comet up high
with a name sounding awkward and dry
(in the stellar marquee
it's marked 'six-seven-P')
and a motion that's hard to descry.
As the comet continues to fly,
caught in gravity none can defy
(yes, it traces ellipses
through solar eclipses),
we ask 'does dark matter comply'.
So, we sent the Rosetta to pry
and I can't help but wondering why
(once in orbit) we spun it
so close to the sun, it
is likely to sizzle and fry…
But before, we may soon verify
that the comet's a custard cream pie
made of green cheddar cheese,
like the moon, if you please
(though that's gospel the savants deny).
When receivers no longer reply
(at the end of their solar supply),
we won't seek to debug 'em,
instead we'll we unplug 'em
and turn off our spy in the sky.
If it's certain Rosetta will die
then, oh lordy, I surely will cry
if we land it like Philae
behind the sun, shyly,
before I can whisper goodbye.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
After the painting by Dana Schutz
Notice the lid’s up on my piano,
to keep the strings dry.
Instead of a pool on the shiny black
hood the water just slides away.
It rains blue rain
here on the prairie,
big clouds, blue rain
coming down in arrows.
My hair’s a mess,
but I don’t care
bare-foot pianist me,
firm fingers on the keys,
you see I’m playing
Frederic Rzewski’s
Winnsboro Blues,
those **** Cottonmill Blues,
*Oh Lordy,
You know and I know,
I don’t have to tell,
Work for Tom Watson,
Got to work like hell.*
For James who likes his poetry with music
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
Confusing it is
that taste between
passion fruit or **** ant
My mind is boggled
which way this is leaning
Your unsavory parts
are being completely outweighed
presently
by a tangy **** yet sweet delivery
It's just I always am bird-dogging
but coming up with the wrong duck
not noticing I've brought home
the wooden decoy
until I'm already sopping wet
wearing stink of the marsh
Why am I wired this way?
Got to get out of this yard
but the lessons are hard learned
So I keep climbing the fence
and now it's you on the other side
Waggin' that **** tang!
Lordy, the chase is on.
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 11:41 AM UTC
ha-hahaa you lost it, didn'tcha? dintcha?
your shooting stars were bombs
but at least you got your wish through
out fr*m th&se; wh~spered he%d tunes
ahhh yeah, but it's not always like that
breathe breathe breathe
sigh a heave heave heave
sleep a dream dream dream
and open all the little senses
among the trees you helped to weather
the light cubes drip inside, and dip and glide
each time you feel the heat, reach out and
ohhhhhh~~
and then just go
wellll yeah, but it's cant quite be like that
remember now? do ya? do ya?
so electrons stopped their shuffling
i mean, that's how it happens
and lordy, how the time passed
and how nothing ever
reminded
anything.
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 1:16 PM UTC
"Thats so cliche"
Well then - touché
Oy vey
Lordy may
Am i the only that feels this dismay?
CHRIST, i could use a good lay
Thank the LORD i am built out of steel
Not paper-mache
What time is it?
**** it, it's still today
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
I ventured to
the farmer's market today,
got me some fresh white potatoes,
a pile of green beans,
stone ground rolls
& a few homemade sausages.
Oh, I picked up a jar
of wildflower honey,
some honeydew wine water
& a bar of lilac soap, too.
I can't wait 'till
the little lady shows up
later tonight.
We're gonna
have a super supper
& a nice warm bath
out under the stars.
O Lordy,
there ain't nothing
like eating home cookin'
& going au naturel,
I can't wait.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
**** on the insides
**** on the outsides
waitin on a ride
to bury all the evidence
the defense you provide
is irrelevant
its starting to make sense
cant get any change
cant even afford this game
but hey, what the **** do i care?
you aint got no one else to blame
So stop acting all scared
Step in the rain
Ill-prepared
Aint no drain in these streets
We all drown
Double dare
Hold our breath
Close and near
To the throat of society population is eyein me
describing me quietly in closed circles conspiring
Dying nice and clean was a righteous dream in a ***** mind
find the irony
I'm getting high while lighting leaves deep in fall while falling deep
All this air surrounding me
Weighing me down,
I gotta find out how to relieve the oxygen building up around me
It's intoxicating just seeing you breathe
Takin a breath, hold it in deep
count to ten, do it again
Countin them sheep until im back to sleep
prayin not to wake up again
oh lordy here he is
my soul to keep
Asleep on the highway of life til i hear beeps my alarm clock keeps me grounded and enemies weak
Pound my fist into the cheeks of these clowns been down for weeks painting frowns with tears that leaked
Drowning in the aftermath of all the facts found in the fine print of the devils contracts
Tryna relax, but my mind is spying and I can't control these subconscious mental acts
Knowing that my peers are sheep control will mold em obsolete
I pull the switch admire beef entirely
My tires screech arrive at scenes with knives that gleam
Its a nightly thing
Keep my guillotine shinin clean
Frightening
That ever time my slate is wiped up clean
The blood stains come back violently
It's a sight to see that no matter how much bleach I use to clean up my speech
There's still an outline showin the shape of every time I thought the only eyes that could see me were mine
Its piling around me, this evidence about to drown me, only good thing is aint nobody found me
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
.
Showers of green, spark
On the leafing trees leaping
With a star. Gusty rains, spread,
Like sowing from spirited heaven,
Are weaving the moist blankets
That life cuddles in. Blooms
Burst into the freshnesses
On parade, the butterflies
So soon sweeping the air
With daydreams of colour
Into the light of the crystal dew
Which shimmers in the grasses,
And the wildflowers are beading
With the bees homing for honey,
In webs of abundance, of newness
After the hushed, blanched shrouds
Of winter, over growing, everywhere
Joy breaks, seems in seconds coming,
There is threading explosion, of miracle,
Such Edens in the wild gardens who cling
And glow for that one true love, new brand,
April spring day song, clutched in Lordy sun.
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 9:28 PM UTC
Mine eyes hath seen the horror of the rise of Donald Trump.
Mine ears hath heard his vitriol he spews from on the stump.
If you believed his ramblings, he took you for a chump.
His "truth's" near always wrong.
Lordy, lordy did he fool ya?
With his con job did he school ya?
Now you'll have to let him rule ya.
Now that your chance has gone.
He swept past sixteen wannabes and claimed the G.O.P.
Surrounded now by sycophants, and yes-men who'll agree
with whatever harmful, hateful, hurtful law that he'll decree.
His ego marches on
Sorry, sorry, such an awful lesson learned.
By protest through the ballot box, the whole world has been burned.
A tyrant's come to power, with the facts and truth adjourned.
His tyranny goes on.
But I say there is hope my friend to right this wrong, you see.
Will you rise in righteous protest and recite this rhyme with me?
And let it help remind you of the past when you were free.
With hope, we shall move on!
Glory, glory when we weather this dark storm,
glory for us once again, when love becomes the norm.
When we have ousted ignorance in every evil form.
And truth goes marching on.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 8:36 PM UTC
briano alliano performs at neptune pub
hi dudes
welcome to my show and the first song is patrick the brave man
you see as i do my youtube show, and, man i enjoy it a lot
an old mate patrick will sit up being a man saying your cool
like he was protecting me or something
and he can be brave, he can be bold, even if he is growing old
you see as he sits up on his chair, in my head protecting me
from doing harm to other you see, because do i need it, well, i don’t care
as i look at him, saying, please stop please stop, my lordy lord
he said, there is no such thing as jesus and kept in my head being a big man
and then he wanted to be there forever and ever
like the bird and his feather, come on patrick, come on get out of my head
you need to understand, i ain’t ashamed as i used to be
i perform at badslamnobiscuit poetry slam, every third wednesday of each month
and tomorrow i will play a christmas in july carol, which is cool which is cool
you see, he is saying, brian, you are cool, don’t be ashamed to perform, you are cool
i said, tip methane all over patrick the big protector and sing this
take me out to the ball game
take me home to the crowd
buy me some peanuts and ******* jack
they don’t know if we ever get back
so it’s root root root for the home team
if they don’t win it’s a shame
it’s 1 2 3 strikes your out
at the old ball game
patrick jumps up and says, i still want to show you my man in your head, because you need to understand
i liked you back then, and that’s the truth
our next song is methane over duncan
i would love to tip methane over duncan
i would love to tip methane over him
it’ll improve the quality of his life
and make his future far from dim
you see he will look like a fucken zombie
but it’s up here, that’s fine
i would love to tip methane over duncan
cause he is a nice guy
i would love to tip methane over patrick
yeah it’ll be fun to tip methane over pat
you see, i would love to show him, i can look after myself well
despite the house looking like a bomb hit it again
i will pick up the methane keg and as pat entered the room
i will tip methane over patrick, and say prepare to meet your doom
i would l;ove to tip methane over christopher
i would love to tip methane over him
you see he lives up in the gold coast, man
with his wife and kids, well, methane is the king
it will improve his life, man
whether he believes it or not
i would love to tip methane over christopher
cause, as a brother he’s a good sport
i would love to tip methane over bas boy
i would love to tip methane over him
you see, i want bas boy to work on his next life betty
and allow me to get on with mine
please allow me to do this, it’ll be really so much fun, oh yeah
i would love to tip methane over bas boy, cause it stick better than beer
ok, dudes and now here is another song called simply irresistible
how can it be permissible
to compromise my principle
the methane is passable
and it’s anything but typical
you see it’s a party moment, which can turn off a lot
you used to look so good to me, the methane is simply irresistible
see you soon neptune
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
Lordy
Lordy
What The ****
Where did my memories go
Why did I delete
The pictures
The feelins
How many forgotten fuckfests
rest at the bottom of the sea?
Why should we try to make a difference
when forgetfulness is the best we can hope for
No! **** it! Thats not true
No more left memories
Im gonna go find them
and bring them back
Diggin dude
I'll be diggin for a long while
until the excavation is complete.
Yuh Feel me?
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 6:53 AM UTC
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.
Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,
His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,
Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.
A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.
The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,
Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 1:52 PM UTC