"manhunt" poems
Eyes like massive clanks- gazes morphed to lanced boils, lungs ache and the tumour of hopeless alien weird melts an old painting we used to call 'existence.'
Ankles dry, calloused thoughts, skin peels to reveal oozing flesh. **** sinks in and swallows floating zinc; immune. Consuming ex-cadavers in mall parking lots and pushing the crippled in shopping carts, an ankle twisted, a mother swallowed monetary ***** the stock market became the shelf market, and creation wondered if we were okay with frozen pizza for dinner.
Life dragged on and on, the world swirled on twitter feeds and Facebook statuses, the streets completed laps around our better judgements and our better lives, we sank to scheduled escapism and believed that one day we would find the light despite our never left-look.
Massive intention swelled to disjointed shark search. A witch-hunt to burn unhappiness in it's own angry passion. Bones; cost efficient at the least and designed in the weirdness of erosion-return. Miniature intention swelled to grabs solidarity. A manhunt to freeze stillness in it's own endless silence.
What complete? What shatter-tastic ******
Eyes like massive clanks- gazes morphed to lanced boils, lungs ache and the tumour of hopeless alien weird melts an old painting we used to call 'existence.'
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
He was taken into custody on Friday
After he got off a bus in Marseille
That had come from Amsterdam
By way of Brussels,
According to police.
The manhunt began
After he opened fire
At the Jewish Museum
In the center of Brussels,
Killing at least 3 people,
Obviously: an anti-Semitic attack.
He was taken into custody
“As soon as he set foot in France,”
According to François Hollande,
Congratulating himself
For an efficient round up of
The usual suspects, all Jihadi
Round trippers from Syria.
He was taken into custody in a mere 6 days--
A magnifique display of French efficiency,
A sublime achievement by
Our furry friends in
Police-Protective Services.
The swarthy perp was carrying a Kalashnikov--
That’s AK-47 for you NRA gun nuts--
A handgun, ammunition, a baseball cap,
A small video recording device, and a
Copy of The Koran,
All items matching
Descriptions of the gunman,
And, even if not, a known-terrorist
Named Mahdi bin Laden,
Carrying an assault rifle
Would have been enough
To fit the profile,
Justify the profiling,
Sufficient to stop anyone
Passing through Customs,
Except, of course
The French Corps Diplomatique,
Wreaking most of the havoc in the EU these days.
There was once a time when any Thom, Dieter or Heine
Could get outta town on a ratline,
Blessed by the Pope,
Assisted by the OSS.
A white linen suit and a Panama hat:
Was all it took any Schutzstaffel
To pull off another Argentine makeover,
Melt into the landscape,
Speaking Spanish with a thick German brogue.
It’s nice to know
Jew persecution is criminal,
Socially frowned on these days.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
Four weeks before,
An aroma of pine that sicks to the walls of your house,
Pictures that dangle from ten feet in the air,
The fake gas fire place smells like burning rubber,
Socks that don't fit hanging from the fire place,
Kids laughing and running around with new phones and car keys,
Four weeks before,
Family members talking politics around a turkey dinner,
Manhunt and kid the can games in the backyard,
Grandmas asking what to get for Christmas,
The a pumpkin candle releasing its scent apawn the bathroom,
Four weeks before,
School work piling up on my new iPad,
A sad break up from separation summer,
Closing the windows to keep out the fall breeze,
A hurricane?
Four weeks before that?
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
Do you remember that tree outside of our first grade classroom?
That tree was enormous
It was the color of a dusty elephant
But with flakey skin
You could pick it off and crunch
In the palm of your hand
It must have been dead
Long before it was ours
Never any bugs
Or mold
or moss
Nothing to stop five-year-olds
From laying in its roots
It grew into a “Y” before it died
Split about seven feet off the ground
Perfect for a first imaginary fort
A manhunt hiding spot or a goal post
For recess super bowls
I can remember it
With us sitting beneath it
At five, at eight, at twelve
Sitting Indian-style
Picking blades of grass
To whistle between our thumbs
They mulched that tree years ago
It’s chopped and spread under the new playground
Keeping kids safe from falls
If only we could have explained
How much it protected when it still stood…
Feb 20, 2010
Feb 20, 2010 at 9:12 AM UTC
The dogs and the men
they bleed into the fields today.
The primal is protected with tradition
for the blood magistrate and bared teeth.
For the hoards,
who’s cider ice lollies dribble into tweed.
Snuffed Wellys suffocating in Jempson’s bags
pressing their crescent moons
into ****
Iris flash, fast peristalsis of air
on both ends of the trumpet today.
Screaming brass.
War only requires one note remember.
One long note
orchestrated by children’s fingers
lifted to the butchery song
releasing the blood-cell men;
the forest’s traitorous antigens.
They are there to nit-pick the trees.
A mercy killing, without a wall.
They should have had a wall
and they tell me
my morals are sickly.
My sensibility is held up with gum.
So pound that war drum.
We’ll bite the backs, tear the scruff
like some death mother to them.
For the runners and the watchers
olympics needed prey aspects
to keep it going.
Teach your children to need that itch.
To save each and every Sunday school *****
from her husband’s boredom
and her children’s boredom
and all the things you notice when you can live and eat
this side of your living seat.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 5:21 PM UTC
We walked 500 kilometres,
We are not marathon runners,
We ran only for food and family.
The walk was long,
But our minds were strong,
Hunger came along.
Hunger put us to faint;
Public watched us like saint,
We were treated as a quaint.
The going got tough;
Our foot became rough,
We felt the tiring walk was enough.
Tears poured in our heart,
Disease ripped the whole world apart,
But humankind was selfish and smart.
Public and rulers slept,
We remained helpless and wept,
Banks disturbed us with debt.
Fishes in the sea cry,
The eaters put it to fry,
Our hunger cries were buried,
Towards our homes we hurried.
Frogs rested in the shadow of a snake,
Hunger tested us during this corona quake.
Corona turned a manhunt tiger,
Killed us with its sharp tooth of hunger,
Our hearts filled with demonic anger,
Hunger kept disturbing us longer.
Our corpses were a useless exhibition,
Media wolves framed our deaths a suicide,
We had no place to reside,
Train tracks became our new home inside.
Our hunger and pains remain unheard
Ruthless rulers find our sufferings awkward
Our hunger creates leaders and robbers,
Rulers filled our society with backstabbers,
We will emerge as leaders and food feeders,
The globe will become our followers and readers.
To all living beings we will feed,
To our future generations we will become a seed,
If hunger kills a human like a crop-killing ****
Our hands will destroy the humanimals with greed.
May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 11:27 PM UTC
everybody hates chris hums on the television.
during commercial breaks, i stare at the ceiling,
feeling bed rest marooned.
cocooned in sweat-soaked blankets
dotted with crumpled kleenex
i ask myself for the first time:
“why am i alive?”
and it’s not that i want to die
although the strep throat
swelling up my lymph nodes
is hardly worth staying for,
but rather i ask what it means to be 10
and not able to see far beyond then
and where i fit into the hopscotch
criss-cross applesauce chaos
that is the world beyond the playground fence.
once im well again i ask my friends.
matthew strokes his hairless chin, then shrugs,
he doesn’t have time for existentialism,
he’s running late for cello lessons
so the question bounces off him like a
handball off a wall:
with a slap and a thump back down.
i ask tyler now.
he cares about me, but girls are gross.
he has a reputation to uphold,
which he won't if he tells me so.
he grasps for an answer,
not heartless, but manhunt tough,
“well, you make me laugh,
i think that’s good enough.”
that summer, he moved to texas.
facebook says he works at 7-11
and i wonder if on the night shift
when customers stop trickling in
and he’s mopping up puddles of slurpee
he remembers wrestling me on black top,
arms tangled in impossible knots,
fifth grade love and skinned knee blood
flowing between blows
and still laughs.
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 3:09 AM UTC
I've never told anyone
About the boy
That lived on the edge
Of my street
Growing up
He was about 4 years older
And
Whenever we'd play
Manhunt in the neighborhood
He'd find me
First and
Shove his tongue down
My throat
And touch me
I was four
He was eight
And I saw him on Facebook
Today with
His three year
Old daughter
In his arms
And now my
Throat hurts so much
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 4:00 PM UTC
We're hunting for a killer
They say he lives near me
He's a heartless murderer
One of Hell's own beasts
They say he's got a bad habit
Say he's one hell of an addict
Claims he can't even remember
All the ones he's dismembered
This hunt is personal
Especially for me
Since this demonic creature
Attacks those closest to me
They say he's got a bad habit
Say he's one hell of an addict
We've got him cornered in a shack
It's time to put down this beast
I turn to tell them to attack
To avenge all those slain
Only then do I see
their guns all aimed
at me
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
A lot of **** has been on my mind.
Aside from how much I hate Christmas
I'm focused on making money.
And detoxing
Quiting drinking
Quoting smoking
The fact that I have to end a friendship because she chooses not to respect me, my wishes and our relationship and my girlfriend.
It ***** but that's okay.
But what honestly hurts me the most
Is that, I don't think my girlfriend cares about how I feel.
Sure, last night she talked me through a lot of **** I needed to talk about.
But I feel like I can't talk to her about the way she hurts me sometimes.
She'd never hit me.
She'd never do anything that would make me completely submissive
however
If she feels like she's not in control of her choices she's
obstinate
Unwavering.
I respect it.
It just hurts sometimes.
she talks to her ex boyfriend.
It's not wrong.
Well it wouldn't be if it wasn't the same guy she left me for
The same guy she said
"Well, I just want to see if he's what I want."
And when he wasn't, at least I was still waiting.
The same guy that would lose intresf in her whenever she'd leave me for him.
I'm hurting and my self esteem is **** because of this.
He invited her to go play manhunt and I'm positive had I not been with her that night she would have Humored him at first then gone when she realized it sounded like fun.
The only reason I'm so sure
Is because she told me that she told him next time she'd be down to play.
She thinks "Alex texted me today and tried to make plans but I turned him down so I could be with you"
Or
"I only hug him up for bud"
excuses talking to him.
Man, I feel ******* worthless.
All I know is that I'm over it.
I'm over hearing his name
And knowing he talks to her and she lets it happen
because
Because
Because
Because why?
What makes hearing from him
More important than actually setting me at ease.
Does she not care?
Do I even matter?
I feel like I'm worthless these days
As shallow as it sounds
Making money is the only thing that's helping my self esteem.
I don't even like money.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
there was a little holdup
at the grocery store
the chickens all went bad
and they hit the door!
they took all the money
they did not do as they ought
but there was a "manhunt"
and a few of them were caught!
they were convicted
of their crimes
and repackaged for their vice
but they were still BAD!
NOW THE BUYER PAYS THE PRICE!
SoulSurvivor
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
the television in front of my murderous father is a city placed on outside arrest. further coverage is dedicated to a new unharmed person from a race of desert people that materialized with her inside. I join in spirit the manhunt for the victim who’s made off with the right to disappear. I am holding a book I mean to worship and I hold it with two kinds of innocence. my brothers cross shadows in the brightness of kitchen. I have many brothers. their teacups fill with god-taken tea and remain teacups. the book is first a false god then tells me which of my hands.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
She went upon a dinner date.
Tried to pursue that perfect mate.
Stood up straight, performed on stage.
Crazy words from paper page.
Went hunting, armed with nothing but words.
Most of them fellas out hunting birds.
Just wanting maybe, a rapid **** from some old bag.
Went to the library to check all the books.
Sitting there silently.
Self absorbed, in their looks.
Took her wallet to the store.
In the hope that maybe she will score.
After all, single men still need to shop.
Will that single woman ever stop.
Or must her quest go on?
(c) Livvi
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
Giggling
The smell of baby powder
Oranges and hide away
Playing pretend with the dog -
the most expensive Barbie we owned.
sharing clothes
sharing parties
sharing rooms
sharing blood and parents and siblings and friends and smells and memories and
Little snores, keeping time through the night
A weird little heartbeat letting me know
you were always there with me.
Fights rising up like
Our summer storms
Sudden and violent, persistent enough
To drench our memories.
Scary enough to send you crying
Sometimes to mom
sometimes just to yourself
somehow, as an enemy,
you were always there with me.
Manhunt in the neighborhood
flashlights in the dark
playing jungle
adrenaline fresh through our blood
tagging along like - a little friend
a little nuisance
a little sister
you were always there with me.
Fighting my own battles
the windshield wipers on my eyelids
couldn’t keep up
and so I couldn’t always see
you were always there with me.
then I went away right?
and so we split
grades, grades, grades, boys
for the both of us.
the most distant we’d both been
Yet something starting there
hard enough to see
something new growing and
all that time
you were always there with me
Now you have
your own baby powder smells
and your kids have their own dog
to dress up
you live just a bit away
but somehow
the less we share the more we give to one another.
well
the more I give to you
I don’t think you were ever the problem
Because
You were always there with me
and now you give me
nephews
and a godchild
chances to be a hero
to be the best (SO WHAT IF I’M THE ONLY?!)
aunt.
game night memories
And one on one time
In your life times one hundred chaos
in your cookie filled house
a place to always stay
an ear to always have
a harbor from my storms
somehow
you make all this space
for your tag along nuisance of
an older sister
as the closest kind of friend.
Because somehow,
luckily enough for me
You are always here with me.
Dec 29, 2023
Dec 29, 2023 at 3:29 AM UTC
I tried to find you in books and under cups of coffee;
I tried to find you outside my window and walls bare and empty.
I tried to find you in the depths of stories about defiant lovers and loveless monks;
I tried to find you in the cacophony of honks.
I tried to look for you as Spring rolled by;
And returned empty-handed at the end of July.
I tried searching for you on the loneliest shores lapped up by the sea;
And under the bower of placid trees.
To put it mildly,
I looked for you in every nook and cranny.
But while I was on a manhunt for you;
You swept past me like the loo.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
I am living at Death's door\
I wanted to live some more\
That is why I never passed to beyond\
And now I'm a wanderer at this hour\
I am killing at War's front\
Against my willon this manhunt\
I wanted more from this life\
And now I'm a murderer and shunned\
I am eating at Famine's dining room\
With a hunger that leads me to ruin\
I want more to eat, all I am is gluttony\
And now all I do is consume\
I have Pestilence at my core\
Anyone I touch sickens, more and more\
I didn't want this for anyone, not me\
And now I caused this horror\
Out of control, I'm not me\
An apocalyptic creature, a zombie\
Created to **** and leaved the world free\
Of this curse that is known as Humanity\
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 8:13 AM UTC