"manners" poems
ignore all possible concepts and possibilities ---
ignore Beethoven, the spider, the damnation of Faust ---
just make it, babe, make it:
a house a car a belly full of beans
pay your taxes
****
and if you can't ****
copulate.
make money but don't work too
hard --- make somebody else pay to
make it --- and
don't smoke too much but drink enough to
relax, and
stay off the streets
wipe your *** real good
use a lot of toilet paper
it's bad manners to let people know you **** or
could smell like it
if you weren't
careful
80k
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
34.9k
Over the heather the wet wind blows,
I've lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose.
The rain comes pattering out of the sky,
I'm a Wall soldier, I don't know why.
The mist creeps over the hard grey stone,
My girl's in Tungria; I sleep alone.
Aulus goes hanging around her place,
I don't like his manners, I don't like his face.
Piso's a Christian, he worships a fish;
There'd be no kissing if he had his wish.
She gave me a ring but I diced it away;
I want my girl and I want my pay.
When I'm a veteran with only one eye
I shall do nothing but look at the sky.
28.3k
there are two types of sadness
there’s the kind of sadness
we ignore and
try to get rid of it
by finding new things to do
or we find someone to talk to
by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation
about feeling sad
about having any feelings at all
and then there’s that kind of sadness
that takes over
and it consumes any activity we do
we know it’s there
and there’s no possible way to avoid it
so we feed it exactly what it wants
it craves the sad music
it craves the isolation
it craves the anxiousness
and the sadness comes storming in
it has no manners
here we are calling sadness, an “it”
when all it is
is a feeling
that most people
call home
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 2:00 PM UTC
You are a sailor if life is a vast ocean..
Here sail-n-surf,very thrilling notion..
Heart does trade with silly emotion
Desires ditch reality,if you lack devotion
Trusting too early is not so very wise..
People turn strangers in their uprise...
Be an artist not the tyrant of ur life
Anger at its apogee, cut like a knife
In dejection time,even silence is noise
Enduring other's hatred is a better choice
Speech is razor-sharp,can easily slice
Before making a decision,think twice
Eyes turn coy when the truth is caught
Just keep it simple n filter ur thought
Like weather, experiences are cool n hot
Hardwork is perennial but luck is not
Deeds are examined,so keep the token
Progress is still when hopes are broken
Pain is felt when own soul is shaken
Just believe in God when all is taken
Pearls come out during ebb at the shore..
Money gives gold but manners shine more
Success is urgency,patience is the cure
Nothing stays forever,expiry is for sure
Life has its fragrance,life has its taste
Laughter is healthy, worry is waste
Love is water, dilutes colour n caste
Polish your soul,skin goes ashes at last
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 2:59 PM UTC
627
The Tint I cannot take—is best—
The Color too remote
That I could show it in Bazaar—
A Guinea at a sight—
The fine—impalpable Array—
That swaggers on the eye
Like Cleopatra’s Company—
Repeated—in the sky—
The Moments of Dominion
That happen on the Soul
And leave it with a Discontent
Too exquisite—to tell—
The eager look—on Landscapes—
As if they just repressed
Some Secret—that was pushing
Like Chariots—in the Vest—
The Pleading of the Summer—
That other Prank—of Snow—
That Cushions Mystery with Tulle,
For fear the Squirrels—know.
Their Graspless manners—mock us—
Until the Cheated Eye
Shuts arrogantly—in the Grave—
Another way—to see—
18.5k
My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.
Some day I'll join him right there,
but now he's gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I'll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.
Ai, I'll not speak of sadness here on earth,
of having lost a companion
who was never servile.
His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine
withholding its authority,
was the friendship of a star, aloof,
with no more intimacy than was called for,
with no exaggerations:
he never climbed all over my clothes
filling me full of his hair or his mange,
he never rubbed up against my knee
like other dogs obsessed with ***
No, my dog used to gaze at me,
paying me the attention I need,
the attention required
to make a vain person like me understand
that, being a dog, he was wasting time,
but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
he'd keep on gazing at me
with a look that reserved for me alone
all his sweet and shaggy life,
always near me, never troubling me,
and asking nothing.
Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
as we walked together on the shores of the sea
in the lonely winter of Isla Negra
where the wintering birds filled the sky
and my hairy dog was jumping about
full of the voltage of the sea's movement:
my wandering dog, sniffing away
with his golden tail held high,
face to face with the ocean's spray.
Joyful, joyful, joyful,
as only dogs know how to be happy
with only the autonomy
of their shameless spirit.
There are no good-byes for my dog who has died,
and we don't now and never did lie to each other.
So now he's gone and I buried him,
and that's all there is to it.
17.7k
upon the elephant rode a boy prince,
his royal command, he was there to evince.
dark with grace and dripping with youth.
bringing his men, his crown and his couth.
town after town he strode fierce through the gates.
and any detractors were left to cruel fates.
and on one windy day, as they strode into town.
the faces where tenfold and a hush passed around
the grey of the creature with knowing black eyes
swayed left towards the crowd as if to capsize.
and the mass gasped in horror; bairns seized by their mam.
men flung at young ladies, babes pulled from the pram.
the bewildered and flustered
tired elephant sat.
in the center of all on the bald pastors hat.
the old pastor looked stunned to see such a disgrace.
until he remembered, and composed his face.
'your highness' he bowed. his manners restored.
but the poor prince was toppled his mighty seat floored.
they gasped for the prince, just really a child
dressed in fine silks on this elephant wild.
pastor said, 'here now' extending an arm
hand wrinkled and gnarled from the land that he farmed.
then the guards sprung to life as if sudden awake
guns point to the man of whose life they would take.
and just as they squinted their eye for the aim
a boy sang out sweetly, 'sire he's not to blame!'
and the prince from street where he lay in pool
held up his hand and recovered his rule.
he looked at the crowd and he said 'boy now speak'
the boy said, 'prince it is the prayers that you seek.
the prayers that you'd visit. the prayers that you'd stay.
lord must of heard them and granted this way.'
his eyes wide with truth and the love of his church
the prince laughed a beautiful belly filled lurch.
the carriage was called as the prince shared a feast.
and even some water was splashed on the beast.
such a good time as he danced and he spun
till the horses arrived in the dust of a run.
to thank the town and the lovely haired boy
the young prince gave up his own precious toy.
the beast stays quite put in the center of town...
but prayers said no more...so the prince won't fall down.
sahn
04/10/2014
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
Once they've caught you
they'll take off the veil of pleasantry and manners-
to reveal the swine underneath; the wolf if you will.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
And that night I was a mechanical doll
and I turned right and left, to all sides
and I fell on my face and broke to bits,
and they tried to put me together with skillful hands
And then I went back to being a correct doll
and all my manners were studied and compliant.
But by then I was a different kind of doll
like a wounded twig hanging by a tendril.
And then I went to dance at a ball,
but they left me in the company of cats and dogs
even though all my steps were measured and patterned.
And I had golden hair and I had blue eyes
and I had a dress the color of the flowers in the garden
and I had a straw hat decorated with a cherry.
Translated from the original Hebrew by Karen Alkalay-Gut.
14.2k
After dark, energies flow in manners that pleases them most
braided together in lust, two king cobras were seen spiraling up
when darkness like a camouflage sets in thickly around,you're
the marijuana of my mind, seeking far horizons of pleasure.
I willingly seek oblivion, when pink pointed goosebumps
like tarantula's love bites, results of mating time cruelty
infest all over my body's landscape, signatures of ecstasy.
I feel your lips become, moist, soft, honey from each drips
never enough,for me, is it possible to get inebriated more?
Your sighs and moans speak the vocabulary of a forgotten
ancient language love hurriedly resurrected for us from past,
brevity is the crux of that lingo of erupting jets of desire,
it teaches you to moan in fifty different tones in all;even more?
Your sharpened nails etch cave murals on my itching back
that has the searing taste of blood, in hot hot chilly red.
my taste buds of lust, begs for more and more of it.
You are the marijuana fueling my narcotic flights that land
in your misty land, enveloping my senses as a whole.
"The night is still young, hear what the darkness whispers"
I hear you speak like an oracle, on things about to happen.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
Blank mind, cloudy vision
the satisfying crack of collision
from an elbow swung, or punch thrown
and in my ears, a buzzing drone
I breath deeply, and start to think
of how I was pushed, to the brink
I really do regret it now
I'd fix it but, I don't know how
But it feels so good, at the time
but the mind doing it, isn't mine
It's not the nice sweet child
with polite voice, and manners mild
But which am I and which is me?
Which one of those am I going to be?
The child, who's weak yet nice?
Or the monster, nobody crosses twice?
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 5:37 AM UTC
Many of the most profound pieces of poetry
May not have been dreamed and transferred
In particular manners professional,
And many of the most practiced writers
May not have been as noble nor indicative
As their readers would imagine and preach.
This concern thus produces a humorous conclusion
That through probability, possibility, and realism,
Many of the greatest and most inspiring words
Passed down to our misguided generation,
May have been conceived, scribbled, and explored
From the humble origins of atop a toilet.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 11:39 PM UTC
Don't ask me not to worry
Cause you know I always will
Although you're getting bigger
You are my babies still
I wish I could do magic
So you won't make mistakes
I'd give up everything I had
I'd do all that it would take
If I could keep you safely
Tucked inside my arms
I'd build a wall around us
To keep you safe from harm
I'd never let a raindrop
Fall upon your head
I'd cup your ears so they'd not hear
Any bad things that are said
If I had the power
To make things go my way
There'd be no pain or hurt or sadness
And you'd be happy everyday
But as you know I don't possess
The magic that it takes
To take away the problems
And make this world a perfect place
And since I don't
You have to know
I'll worry about you
What are they doing now?
Where are they and with who?
I'll worry if you'll remember
The things I tried to teach
Like not to talk to strangers or
Turn you back when at the beach
Don't forget to use your manners
Brush your teeth and comb your hair
Always do your best
Always do what's fair
Remember right from wrong
And don't give in to please a friend
Cause you're the one who has to deal
With the trouble in the end
I worry that other people
Do not see the things I know
The things way deep inside you
The things that do not show
Do they know your hearts are bigger
Than the universe itself
Or that you are both more giving
Than any one of Santa's elves
Do they know how much I love you
Or the way you make me fee
When I think that you are mine
It's still just so unreal
From the day I looked into your eyes
And hugged you that first time
I said I'll never let you go
You always will be mine!
So I'm always gonna' worry
No matter how I try
Cause I love you with all my heart
That's the reason why!!
Love you, Mommy
Apr 15, 2010
Apr 15, 2010 at 5:24 AM UTC
Birds of a feather,
Not unlike me,
Love fine weather
(When it’s pouring tea).
Manners, wine and dining, too.
Mantis, llama, kangaroo.
Overmade, they do make over.
Things so brittle like the rover
Sent to Mars, the Milky Way,
Bounty, sneaky in its way.
Inbetwixt the words they utter,
They choose bread over the butter.
Frying French and grilling Jerry,
Jamming jars of juicy berry.
Duty-bound, they bound off duty.
Flock together! Fly, my beauties!
Plumes all owned. And not one borrowed.
Standing still amidst the horror…
Jokes aside, and folly ousted,
Peace preferred to putrid bloodshed,
They, like me, are hard to find…
Seems, at last, I’ve lost my mind!
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
Please Don't Touch My Hair.
It's amazing,
It's beautiful,
Maybe its the first time you'll see;
Hair so dark and 'puffy'
As the hair God gave to me.
But my hair is not a commodity;
A thing for you to gather round and see.
It is not something I pull out once a while
Just so you can take a peek.
Please Don't Touch My Hair.
Don't run your hands through it,
Don't ask me why it act's like that,
Don't ask me if you can pull it,
Don't pet me like I'm your cat.
Don't touch it without asking,
And worst of all ask and not wait,
Are your manners really that lacking?
Please Don't Touch My Hair.
Don't stare like I am some exhibit
Brought for you from far away,
Don't mock the way it looks on me
Don't say 'I don't like the way it looks today'.
It's My hair
On MY head,
So don't you even dare.
You're not the one that spends hours
Looking after my luscious hair.
Please Don't Touch My Hair.
Because many years ago
My ancestors were put in zoos
So people like you could know
How our hair felt, and our skin looked
Instead of just seeing old photos.
As if we were not human beings
With minds, and hearts and souls.
So my hair is not on display
For your viewing pleasure,
My hair is on my head for ME
And it has worth that you can never measure.
It represents Who I Am
My Tribe, My Land, My Culture.
So don't hover around with oily hands
Like a flock of curious vultures.
So for the love of all that I know
Please DO NOT TOUCH MY HAIR.
And don't ask me why you can't,
Don't say it isn't fair.
Because would I walk up to a stranger
And ask, only to receive a no
Then go on and touch it anyway?
...I didn't think so.
Please Don't Touch My Hair.
This is the last time I'll say it,
I cannot be silent any longer
I will not tolerate it.
I've given it all I can
I have been very patient
But I will not let this continue
This I will not permit.
If you say you are my friend
You will respect this
Its My Hair, on My Head
And that's all there is to it.
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 5:24 AM UTC
I found you.
Different. Imperfect.
A sad and sickly child
alone in a faceless world.
Bland with naïve thoughts
and clumsy manners.
I found you.
Alike. Perfect.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 9:49 AM UTC
You were always trying to get closer
Approaching me in manners mysterious to me
Roaring words of love in my ear
With thrusts of your hips,
Slowly you found a way into me,
Pinned me down, ready to eat your prey
And I screamed, but I was not looking for help
I was not trying to get saved
This is where I wanted to be.
Don't set me free.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 2:21 AM UTC
We live to love..
We live to learn..
All the earth won't be enough for us..
If we live without tolerance..
If we live with love..
And even if the land isn't enough..
We live in every heart..
Spread it among all humans..
The mean of peace..
With love and smiles..
Spread it to the world..
The mean of peace...
With love, smile and beautifull manners...
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 11:08 AM UTC
What does it mean to be a Chicano/Latino in the US?
What does it mean to be Black in the US?
What does it mean to be a minority in the States?
You know what that means...it means that we have a lot to prove
As in the words of Booker T. Washington:
"When a white boy undertakes a task,
it is taken for granted that he will succeed.
On the other hand, people are usually surprised
If the ***** boy does not fail. In a word, the ***** youth
starts out with the presumption against him."
Now in a society where institutionalized racism,
Or racism without racists, prevails
We are disenfranchised from even being considered youth.
We are a bunch of wetbacks, idiots, moron...you name it,
Where failure is expected of us...
...but enough is enough, we should not abide to the stereotypes
And stigmas that society stamps on our foreheads.
As a matter of fact, I do not ever recall giving this white patriarchal society
My blessing to call me whatever the **** it decides to call me.
We are here to take manners into our own hands, here to do whatever the heck our heart desires.
We are here to create the change that we wish to see in the world.
We are here to become the few & growing positive statistics that we fight for.
We are here to create voice and shed the light on those wins that we take to our hearts.
No one is here here to reflect the stereotype that this ****** up society
Tries to slap us with on an everyday basis.
We are here to change perception of who we are and where we stand in society.
We are positive statistics...not a stereotype.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
For a Child of 1918
My grandfather said to me
as we sat on the wagon seat,
"Be sure to remember to always
speak to everyone you meet."
We met a stranger on foot.
My grandfather's whip tapped his hat.
"Good day, sir. Good day. A fine day."
And I said it and bowed where I sat.
Then we overtook a boy we knew
with his big pet crow on his shoulder.
"Always offer everyone a ride;
don't forget that when you get older,"
my grandfather said. So *****
climbed up with us, but the crow
gave a "Caw!" and flew off. I was worried.
How would he know where to go?
But he flew a little way at a time
from fence post to fence post, ahead;
and when ***** whistled he answered.
"A fine bird," my grandfather said,
"and he's well brought up. See, he answers
nicely when he's spoken to.
Man or beast, that's good manners.
Be sure that you both always do."
When automobiles went by,
the dust hid the people's faces,
but we shouted "Good day! Good day!
Fine day!" at the top of our voices.
When we came to Hustler Hill,
he said that the mare was tired,
so we all got down and walked,
as our good manners required.
7k
In ruck and quibble of courtfolk
This giant hulked, I tell you, on her scene
With hands like derricks,
Looks fierce and black as rooks;
Why, all the windows broke when he stalked in.
Her dainty acres he ramped through
And used her gentle doves with manners rude;
I do not know
What fury urged him slay
Her antelope who meant him naught but good.
She spoke most chiding in his ear
Till he some pity took upon her crying;
Of rich attire
He made her shoulders bare
And solaced her, but quit her at cock's crowing.
A hundred heralds she sent out
To summon in her slight all doughty men
Whose force might fit
Shape of her sleep, her thought-
None of that greenhorn lot matched her bright crown.
So she is come to this rare pass
Whereby she treks in blood through sun and squall
And sings you thus :
'How sad, alas, it is
To see my people shrunk so small, so small.'
7k
You think that smile will make it all right,
Do you realise you’re enraging my mind?
Think it’s okay because you believe your better, why?
Like that grin makes it okay to stay blind.
Because I’m young you think I’m dumb,
You count your manners on one thumb,
You speak out; you smile like I’m making fun.
I got a rage that will make you wish you were numb.
Anger, my rage erupts enough for me to lash out,
Punch the wall, should have been your face, ow.
You have directly affected my mood now
Brewing and steaming, to release I jot this down.
Now how do I get rid of this frown?
Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 3:02 AM UTC
1317
Abraham to **** him—
Was distinctly told—
Isaac was an Urchin—
Abraham was old—
Not a hesitation—
Abraham complied—
Flattered by Obeisance
Tyranny demurred—
Isaac—to his children
Lived to tell the tale—
Moral—with a Mastiff
Manners may prevail.
6.8k
HER even lines her steady temper show ;
Neat as her dress, and polish'd as her brow ;
Strong as her judgment, easy as her air ;
Correct though free, and regular though fair :
And the same graces o'er her pen preside
That form her manners and her footsteps guide.
6.7k