"malibu" poems
She left Reno
in a satin slip
the color of hot coins
pouring from slots,
wearing chewed-up tennis shoes,
mirrors multiplying her,
the marquee burning out
letter by letter,
a hush pressed between her teeth
as if saving the last note.
I followed,
a gangly shadow,
mother’s voice in my ear:
"life is not a freeway exit."
But she was the exit.
She drove west
through a glittering throat.
In Tonopah she was a waitress,
red stains on her wrists,
sleeves tugged low,
coffee pouring thin as blood.
In Barstow she was a sun-bleached Madonna,
halo blistered, mouth lit in stained glass.
At a gas station in Needles
shimmering into a coyote’s shadow
and slipped behind the pumps.
Then movement along the fence,
low, quick—
gone again.
Casinos blinked like electric relics.
Truckers called her sugar,
greedy hands counting her ribs
as if she was the paycheck
sweating in their fist,
but she slipped away each time,
her silhouette already moulting-
a serpent skin, a smoke-trail,
a saint’s shadow burning off the wall.
By Malibu, the night
had softened to velvet.
The pier at Zuma
leaned into the Pacific
like a broken bridge.
She sang to me—
low, cracked—
then let the slip fall.
Her body cut into the dark tide,
no disguise.
I waded in after her,
ankles bruised by rock.
Water lit with jellyfish,
each pulse a warning.
I stopped where it deepened,
felt the pull take hold.
No exit left,
just the Pacific’s mouth
closing around her.
Sep 1, 2025
Sep 1, 2025 at 8:08 PM UTC
Mature my Mirabelle.
Fill my senses with your rich commences.
Yellow and blue, you are majestic like Malibu.
A royal color growing in nature like summer.
Discover emotions never felt before.
Sweeten me, Mirabelle.
Touch me with your gentle skin,
send a shiver down my spine.
Catch my soul as it follows your trails.
Jump in the dam, destroy the walls.
Accept my body, Mirabelle.
Give birth to our energy.
Mirror our synergy in the purple glass.
Yellow hair hovers across heated beaches,
presses my heartbeat as I am within her reaches.
Jul 25, 2021
Jul 25, 2021 at 8:00 AM UTC
(co-written by Sharon Robinson)
Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that you love me baby
Everybody knows that you really do
Everybody knows that you've been faithful
Ah give or take a night or two
Everybody knows you've been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet
Without your clothes
And everybody knows
Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
And everybody knows that it's now or never
Everybody knows that it's me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah when you've done a line or two
Everybody knows the deal is rotten
Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton
For your ribbons and bows
And everybody knows
And everybody knows that the Plague is coming
Everybody knows that it's moving fast
Everybody knows that the naked man and woman
Are just a shining artifact of the past
Everybody knows the scene is dead
But there's gonna be a meter on your bed
That will disclose
What everybody knows
And everybody knows that you're in trouble
Everybody knows what you've been through
From the ****** cross on top of Calvary
To the beach of Malibu
Everybody knows it's coming apart
Take one last look at this Sacred Heart
Before it blows
And everybody knows
Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Oh everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows
7.1k
Upper East Side
The Hamptons
Aspen, Colorado
The plastic people
Follow each other
Moving in herds
Like cattle to the
Slaughter
Drifting
Floating
Shifting focus
From one charity event
To another
Whatever’s trendy
Whatever’s fashionable
Whatever’s happ’ning
Whatever’s the need
Tainted new artists
Society’s rejects
The film-maker who fits in with
The flavor of the month
The disease or the cause
That captures the moment
Stigmas overlooked
Deformities relieved
By one hyper exertion
By one pseudo good deed
Changing bedrooms
Changing partners
New alliances
Noblesse oblige
Mrs. Astor’s
Four hundred
Reinvented forever
Reinvented with fervor
On the edge
Of hypocrisy
Keeping up with the Jones’s
Maintaining the houses
Paris, Rome, Cote du Jura
Malibu, Palm Beach
Couture fashion
Madison, Rodeo
Worth avenues united
Avenues of the liege
Location, location, location
The right address unspoken
Dinner in the right places
Sporting events to be seen
Three martini luncheons
Halcion evenings
Business is business
Where money’s retrieved
Look to plastic people
For fashionable guidance
No matter the moment
No matter the need
Remember to catch them
While jetting to Santa Barbara
Saint Maarten, San Troupe
San Marco, warp speed
They live in their milieu
Can’t function outside it
Can’t follow a shadow
That others believe
It’s easy to find them
They leave behind footprints
But barely a mem’ry
Or singular creed
Other than finding
The latest in fashion
The latest persona
Or new plastic breed
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
1
Learn to love the color pink, because as soon as you are born you are smothered by all things cute and dainty, and yes of course they are pink, so learn to love the color pink, pink being the balloons that say things like “ Congrats it’s a Girl” as if they would be proud to have such a thing. Pink as the muscles beneath our skin, pink as the human brain, but god forbid we think, pink as in meat, pink as in weak, pink as in baby blankets that are raised just a little too far over your head, pink as in let’s try again, pink as in you are weak, pink as in no, pink as in you can’t do that, pink as in me, pink as an identity I will forever be forced to be in love with.
2
Always hold daddy’s hand, because they’re are bad men around every corner
3
Cross your legs and learn to sit still. You can’t play with toy cars your a little girl hot wheels are for the brave at heart you need a Malibu girl, something smooth and rounded, something you can’t ***** yourself on. Something that is perfect for the pink one.
4
Learn to herd to the bathroom. Never forget the buddy system because you don’t want to end up missing like the girl across the street
5
Learn early on that you should steal your mother’s makeup, no matter what she says, because with out it we look “tired”
6
Don’t be scared of blood, be scared of men.
7
Play with your hair, pull down your shirt, be exotic, and beautiful. Everyone loves a playful girl.
8
Don’t go back home till you have a good husband and a baby that didn’t turn out pink like you. A baby with an actual chance for greatness in this world.
9
SHUT UP WOMAN
10
Say no
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 8:30 AM UTC
Build a ***** workshop
(Where we feed on your insecurities for profit)
Don’t like what your mirror has to offer
In need of a quick fix because your size 0 jeans won’t fit
Well destroy your body like our ecosystem
With plastic to make you look fantastic
Because looking like an overstocked toy is the new ****
Change your completion until there’s nothing left
While tosh points out how you’re worthless without *******
which brings out insecurity galore
You need to be Barbie if you want
Ken and his Malibu beach house
Everyone knows you’re only worth as much as your waist line
Don’t judge a book by its cover
But my generation doesn’t even read
Photo shopped teens as far as the eye can see
Post photos
That strips away your dignity
For a spot on a that new reality TV series
Forget about the news because the kardashians bought new shoes
Mom asks So what did you learn today at school
A cool equation that the other kids taught me
My body – eating + surgery +pills= picture perfect girl
Or new American dream
Big ******* small waist, always sleeping around, never complain , don’t feel ashamed that’s the only way to play the game
How many pills did you take to look that anorexic?
Who made you feel so uncomfortable in your own skin?
How many meals did you shove down the bathroom sink?
How many surgeries did it take for you to become this fake?
The sad part is I bet you even Barbie didn't have this many plastic pieces
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
Apparently she was a mermaid;
there wedding was
to be a plastic Malibu affair.
Her dress, a bedazzled, gaudy
sarong with leis for a train, and coral
bits for the rings…
She said she was addicted to pearls, –
ate them like candy,
until about a year ago when they plucked
her from the ocean,
and gave her pills instead.
“Entertain her for a bit,” the other nurse said.
So I picked up the Ken doll,
and let Barbie buy another pet dolphin.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 10:47 AM UTC
(Went out today,
Charter boat
Trinidad Bay
Limited out on rock fish
in two hours
Watching Elks Head
from the ocean,
Grandpa)
Isadore
Called him Izzy
Chewing all day
on a fat cigar
Looked at lot like Jimmy Durante
His father stowed away on a ship
Wasn't going to be a Russian military conscript
Genocidal pogroms were coming
how he knew
we'll never know.
Ended up in Philadelphia town,
Scranton Pennsylvania
Moved along to Brooklyn
Stubby Izzy
fighting it out with the Irish immigrants
Dreaming of having a chicken farm
over there in New Jersey
Izzy met Grandma Sarah at the family clothing store
they fought it out for 70 years
The 60's book
Games People Play
They were the star attraction
The friction was the glue
that kept them together
The friction was the match
that lit their passion.
Grandpa Izzy
funniest man I ever met
Drove an old 48 Ford
selling housewares in the Southern route.
In the morning far too early
Sneaking into his room
tickling his feet to the sounds
of ohhs and hoho's
At five years old
Grandpa Izzy
took me fishing
on some New Jersey pond -
Afternoon sun with yellow colors
bringing all the foliage alive
Sun setting
fish rising
a hand held in mine
defined the peace
I seek
in reoccurring dreams through out a lifetime
A troubled teen
all suicidal
the drive in the 48 Ford
with Grandpa Izzy
running down the Malibu pier
catching the half day boat before it
disappeared
Grandpa Izzy
never lived far from a race track
I don't know about those losing days
but the secret he said
Was to never lose your sense of humor
Always be able to laugh at yourself
Izzy smoked those big old chewed cigars
lived until he was 94
Ended up not knowing
Who or where he was
Maybe we all
end up
that way too
But in my memory
there is sharp focus
he remains alive in me
If heaven is there
I know I'll find
Izzy and I
on that New Jersey pond,
a fishing line
and
peace inside.
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
things
will
get
better
when
my arthritis abates
when
I'm better looking
when
I'm smarter
when
I'm taller with better bones
when
my hair grows back
nice and wavy
when
I lose thirty pounds of fat
when
I'm filthy rich
when
my eyes are bluer
when
i have a PhD
without guile
and i don't have any
ticks ticks ticks
and no longer
still hate my dead father
who never let me forget that
the hand that feeds me
is the boot that kicks me
things
will
get
better
when
I'm celebrated for my myriad talents
when
my singing brings the house down
when
I'm forty years younger
and know everything I know now
when
I'm a world class boxer and poet
and can dance
the pachanga
with the stars
and exhibit my edgy brilliant sculpture
and elegant paintings
at the museum of modern art
and live in a big Malibu beach house
a big chested hero
with a nice suntan
and a Bugatti Chiron
in the driveway
tough guy tattoos
and four hundred dollar sunglasses
things
will
get
better
when
all men admire me
and
all women adore me
and want to take me home
for ***** kiss cocktails
leg shows
and sing giggling
throwing fluttering kisses
at me
during their fluffy bubble baths
while I photograph them
with my perfect
digital
memory
and
things
will
get
better
when
I can win marathons
running backward
while smoking a cigar
never tiring
and party like hell boy
inhaling drugs and *****
without the slightest ill effects
when
I can beat gravity
and fly at will
when
my health is perfect
and my teeth brush themselves
and my breath smells like bay ***
when
I'm never too hot or cold
but always cool
when
I can breathe underwater and kiss fishes
and ride neptunium whales
and giant squids
and fly through deep space
without a rocket ship
hows it hangin xeno
when
I cant help
but love everybody all the time
and all animals are happy
and have plenty to eat
that's not each other
and I play with lions
who kiss to lick me
and everywhere I go
death war and disease
are vanquished
and everybody is in ecstasy
when life is chocolate kisses
when
multiculturalism means
that everybody is falling in love with everybody
and kisses never cease
when trees are made of lollypops
and no one ever gets diabetes
and flowers dance to Latin rhythms
and everybody stops arguing about god
while in a state of immortal joy
that's
when
things
will
get
better!
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 4:23 PM UTC
Whip that hair
Malibu girl got a bottle of it too
Ruby red
All in the bed
Tangled in the sheets
Don't hit your head
Ooh boy so fine
What a man
Bang bang, choo choo train
Wind me up and ill do my thang
Hahaaaa remember that?
**** I feel it
So pretty girl, so slick
Like a Popsicle stick
And now your lips are all sweet
Tastes so good to me
Mmmm you're makin me blush
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 6:33 AM UTC
We dropped by
in the VW bug
along the Malibu coast
for just one evening.
She wore green satin
and pukas,
had her dreads plaited neatly
& she lit candles
under the smiling moon.
We burned nag long
into the wee hours
& in the morning
we were gone
like her,
as beautiful as the surf.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
Chin pointed to the clouds,
her face
following the soft sunset
saddened by the disappearing daylight
as if she will loose a sense of hope
when the sun
goes down.
Pineapple and Malibu
stains the bottom of her cup
that she stole not seconds ago
from the bar on the corner.
Oh my love,
how she doesn’t care to live
doesn’t fear consequences.
Face still scrunched up with disappointment
as if I need to convince her to stay-
her thoughts flowing out of her head
into the skies above her.
She observes them,
Dark blue
Reds
Orange
Hints of purple.
Eyes sunken,
fists full of cloth
arms around her knees.
She turns to me suddenly,
breaking the flow
of her daydream.
Only 18,
hiding behind that baby face.
The only color left
in her big blue eyes
is the white of her pupils
in the moon lit
cigarette winds.
“Do you want to get out of here?”,
the words escape her mouth as she
looks for reasons to stay
checking under the table,
rustling through her bag.
But she’s tired of
knowing not which way to go.
So taking off for the night,
escaping her worries for one more day,
she sighs
and gets up,
only taking with her
the sand on her feet.
Sophia Hadeshian
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 9:13 AM UTC
I stand at Santa Monica’s edge
The warm night breeze
Rustling in the palm trees
The crescent moon
Casting its magic glow
On the black, black waters
Amid the stately palms
Twisted ancient trees
Grow like abstract art
The lights of Malibu
Sparkle on the hill
On the other side of the bay
The harsh fluorescent glare
Of the pier behind me
And I pick up my cell phone
And call back home
Because it’s just too **** beautiful
Not to share with someone
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
I had a God; he was a
good God. Keeping me safe
with money, image, and time.
Blessing me, solid;
until my waist grew as thin as my wallet.
Buying all of your time.
I want to be on t.v.,
but not just any t.v.
I want the ratings to rise
with my celebrity skin,
my trending name,
commercialized sin.
I want to be sold separately
and told that I'm desperately
giving my body to a image heavy God,
sleeping on the skeleton of Malibu,
drinking dreams with a celebrity dog.
I want to be on t.v.
I want to be every thing
and more.
I had a God; he was a good God.
Played me his songs, wrapped
in his time. Kissing me goodbye,
tel ling me to sell shirts; telling me to
keep up with the trends.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 5:55 PM UTC
*enter slav digressing with the celt... yeah, saxony, once known as the northern arm's length of parody shaking oiled up speaking saracen sign language: arabica wavy wavy bye bye. you concrete those words in i roof it over, then we can both admire the rich russian vixens dry up their wealth with the saudis - we need television after all - and it’s in 3-d! and it’s 1-d head-banging closure! :)... ;( :x, :s, \: (mouth’s missing but i have a mammoth in malibu -
and my love can’t aim to have the mortgage too - but hey, girl’s heading for the one coin-flip dolphin clap; and i was a teenager once too... but played grand theft auto 2d throughout asking for a bottle of whiskey and a panda’s / koala’s bothersome diet to hunt sleep); is there some sign language translation of emoji? i just don't have the talents to enter the emoji language and become a ********* or make democracy justly an exclusion of cowards and ****** i can’t do that, let’s utilise charles the third! ‘too busy, too fuzzy,’ well hear and karma sutra the talk of the man, after all the coinage and respecting the hedgehog on his head.*
i cleaned it into a hotel like i would into a brothel,
while the suffragettes
looked like the elephant man in niqāb,
and i was ready
with the fist; although i shook less
than i spoke to mouth it off into democracy
continuing the power struggle vetoed with bodies extracted
into the count warranting mourning.
what success is it if a white boy in a western society
can’t leave the nest and establish a taxable one to suit power?
where’s the power then, in the stateless individual?
where is your power to my ******* of being given wife and house
not given? where?!
if i can’t be the individuated pawn power broker you can’t be in power... idiots!
you have to give me the ******* i “desire” to be in power, if you can’t,
you’re not in power! ave augustus ave ego!
try contort the square into a triangle by contorting **** into f*ck.... ah ****
you already did... where’s the spanks’ worth of bullseye?!
you germans have no decency in human affairs
than you have to inspect **** movies varied
by wildebeest stampedes
from guernsey into gibraltar in gifs, do you?
well i did **** off a palm tree and got a coconut for an oasis’ worth of thirst.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
The first time I saw Malibu
& all those California girls,
in all forms of bikinis,
watching the surfer dudes
catching waves,
I found new meaning
to the phrase 'good vibrations'
& almost immediately,
I thought we should
replace the 'good'
with the word 'great',
for it was truly paradise.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC
Tapping the vein
at the section of upper and lower arm
striking the needle deep,
jagged and rough,
upon notice that Second
isn't a one-way street anymore.
Must have changed while I was gone.
My Malibu,
swerving viciously to avoid the old Grand-Am
finds its way into the right lane
the only lane
fitting like a glove on the wrong hand.
Ahead, 475 dictates my exit.
A detour, the sign says,
with little ostentation,
even more accuracy.
The highway vomits me away,
chewed and confused,
an exit before my usual.
Though the path ahead
veers straight as a needle,
it's two miles downwind.
Two miles behind.
Great symbolism,
I tell myself,
pressing hard on the accelerator.
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 11:12 AM UTC
I'm dreaming of a malibu sunrise,
of days spent in the high-rise,
where the food is filling,
and the drink flows freely.
Where cares, like clouds,
float on the train of the sky,
where the sun shines bright,
and the ocean breathes salty.
I've worked dank, dreary hours,
in a dark and dreary city,
with dim and dreary people,
and I deserve something more.
I desire my malibu sunrise,
where folks treat you well,
where men are friendly,
where women are lovely.
Where dreams, like dogs,
bound along your side,
easy to meet and play,
easy to hold and touch.
What I want is time
to recline downward,
get comfortable,
and truly relax.
With a popcorn-book
and a daiquiri in hand,
my eyes can close and
see my malibu sunrise.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 11:47 PM UTC
I lived through it,
The up and down times
When I sold ***
And did other petty crimes.
I was there when
Hot girls were really guys
Hiding floppy secrets
Between their nyloned thighs.
I loved through it,
Saturdays that started
On Tuesday morning
When I first departed;
Two packs of cigs
And a week’s doobies,
By then a value
Almost that of rubies.
I laughed through it,
A **** ***** your jokes
Were so funny if
You were providing smokes.
I flattered and flirted
Whatever it would finally take
To score a bit of ****
Even the skimpiest shake.
I lolled through it,
Lying buck naked in your bed
Or with your guests
Whatever you originally said
Because you scored,
You were the source of dope.
Without your patronage
I didn’t have a moment of hope.
I hitchhiked through it,
Long trips back from Malibu
When I had worn out
My welcome to the world of you.
I hope the ride might be
Another adventure; more ****
Or some food and drink
To satisfy my every begging need.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 5:51 PM UTC
Flipping another page,
But I already know that the words sound gross,
I hate my position and the cards been dealt,
The feelings that were felt,
And the hand I took,
Made me have to relook,
At what's in store,
We can't see it as a volcano,
On a distant island,
But man its tough to see the helicopter,
Made of sticks,
I promised that my heart never quits,
So ill dig my toes in the sand,
Outside my heartbreak hotel,
And watch as my emotional Malibu,
Goes to hell.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:52 AM UTC
LA, Hollywood, I'm in love
Malibu, Palm Springs, what a rush
Santa Monica, girl you got it all
Glass table girls, "gimme a twirl"
NoHo, Big Bear, Cambria
Taste the sun, look at the view
The moon will teach you what to do
Flip that hair, we get down anywhere
Everywhere, look over there
In your underwear, wine on the stairs
Baby chill, who cares
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 1:33 AM UTC
I had been lathering in the shower, worrying
about whether or not the shampoo
Mam had bought was going to sufficiently condition
my abused, bleached hair, and smelling
coconuts – being transported to last summer,
my first sip of lemonade and malibu in the sunshine.
Did it matter that I had ever smelled coconut before?
Did anything matter when I
and all that I was, were just stardust –
Balanced on a not-quite-infinite,
but exceedingly long time line, with billions of years
either side of me, and I, a white dot or speck
on the face of the space time quantum?
Why had I been worrying about how healthy
my hair looked now, compared to last summer,
when the only importance it would ever have
is when blonde girls – other white specks -in the future
fell upon my Facebook profile, and wonder
if I was ever anyone worthwhile, and find out that
no. I wasn’t.
All I had to my name
were a few emails where I had tried to help my friends,
but couldn’t. And some terrible poetry.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 6:22 AM UTC
Pour me some more Malibu and Cream Soda
Jump in the truck let’s go for a ride
Why don’t we go wade in the pool for awhile
Then when we get done there
Let’s get dressed up and cruise the town for the night
Just make sure you have that Malibu on hand for when the cups get empty
I’ll take you anywhere you want to go as you slide a little closer baby
Grab my hand and turn up the radio let’s find ourselves a back road
I know that you’re nervous girl but I can promise you don’t have to be
I can show you the best time of your life if you just let me
Let me just taste those sweet lips of yours
If it’s not what you expected all you have to do is just say so
I’ll back off but I’m not going to lie I’ll be praying that you can’t get enough
Let’s find a place to get lost at and I’ll hold you close to me
What do you say girl let’s lay in the back of the truck and star at the stars
Don’t worry I’ll let you use me as a pillow so it’s not so painful to your head
I’ll keep you warm and safe from all that could be out in the dark
Don’t let it bother you baby I’m right here to protect you
Why don’t you just tell me about your wildest dreams
I’ll tell you anything that you don’t already know about me
Let’s talk about everything we have always wanted to do but never got to
Let me make your wildest dream come true
Come on just take my hand and I promise to show you a good time
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC