"marvin" poems
I had Joe Willie from jump. The Jets were off the chain
Baltimore benched Johnny U cause he knew the game. And played it too.
The AFL was full of bells and whistles.Speed kills
Three yards and a cloud of dust. Get real coach. We shootin rockets to da moon. High tops . Cmon pops.
Change the guard.
Them people ain't done nothing to me said Ali.
Da Nang ain't my thang. He was the greatest. Still is.
The Haight was great. Oh yeah Kent STATE.
1968. Open the gate to the house of the rising sun.
Joplin. And Jimmy. Marvin and Tammy.
The Doors and Hair. ****** in the air
What rhymes with Agent Orange...... Nothing.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC
Always thinking
what am I thinking?
lets start writing
should be sleeping
why am I thinking?
I need to sleep now
bored of sheep, lets try cows
maybe I should count the spots
or connect the dots
of my thoughts....
Dalmatians are the cow canine
ten, eleven, twelve
deeper I delve
sleeper I'm not
wide awake, no
half baked dough
money makes the world go round
funny how it doesn't make a sound
yet people are so loud
it's not needed
nod your head when greeted
nod your head when agreeing
or leaving, deceiving, grieving
maybe thats bowing
bow your head when grieving
Robin Hood had merry men
and they were thieving
still need to be sleeping
dreaming........
If only I could dream of you
as we sail the ocean blue
you would get sea sick
and I would drown quick
this is how my dreams end
much like our relationship
conscious thoughts
maligned with nonsense fraughts
I fraught of you today
tonight, this night
every night
you my light
my darkness
my rainbow
tied around your neck
so delicate
a pretty little thing
no tongue ring yet
butterflies
toast lands sunny side
glass half empty
I'm half fool
a joker in the pack
Batman that's a fact
I only come out at night
your caped crusader
I tried to save her
but the current dragged her under
she now resides in the depths of my mind
a shipwreck
my Mary Rose
how I loved your eyes and nose
and everything attached
did I remember to put the door on the latch?
turn off the oven
come give me loving
and affection
Marvin Gaye, Joan Armatrading
sing to me so I can sleep
sheep, cow, dalmatian, sheep..........
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
**** me
I don't trust me
maybe I'm rusty
shes just *****
*****
hate to look you in the shoes there lovely
lackin alternatives the shoes it be
rub me
filth to the core not unseen
unteen times past I felt bad plugging
and running
not scared of ****
its ******* is ******
a life oh
what seems to be life so
This ain't livin'
Marvin Gaye given
insight my sight unseen
unto the looking glass glean
maybe better off taken time to see
sorry not me
that whole waiting scene
I plead to gods on high be free
my soul tattered torn on the throne
all this time wasted holding on to the goal
just to throw
oh a life oh
what seems to be life so
This ain't livin'
Marvin Gaye given
cowardice a man who never felt fear
resin to live in this hell world imprisoned here
******** leaders
wish I had time
in a pile of ***** alone in the world, fillin in for atlas, who me? nah I'm fine.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
...Sky Isa Love!!!!
THAT IS ALL!!!!!!!!!
BILL WITHERS - LEAN ON ME LYRICS
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v;=JR0NZqu6igg
Lean On Me (Live) From a 1973 Concert
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Wpof8s5ZTg
Love potion number 9, The Searchers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rXhXLsNJL8
White Wine In The Sun by Tim Minchin
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCNvZqpa-7Q
MOTOWN MAGIC!!!!!!
Sa Sa Go Go Go
BEST OF MOTOWN....BREATHE...Sky Isa Love
I Can't Get Next To You, Psychedelic Shack (the Temptations),
Bernadette (The Four Tops),
Everyday People (Sly & The Family),
I just Called To Say I Love You (Stevie Wonder)
Ain't Too Proud To Beg (The Temptations),
Back In My Arms Again (The Supremes)
Build Me Up Buttercup (The Foundations)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--jWPzNNdN4
Best Of Motown Part 2 Video Mix of;
My Cherie Amour (Stevie Wonder),
I'm Gonna Make You Love Me (Diana Ross & The Supremes with the Temptations),
What's Going On (Marvin Gaye)
Love Child (Diana Ross & The Supremes),
Runaway Child Running Wild (The Temptations),
For Once In My Life (Stevie Wonder},
I'm Losing You (The Temptations),
What Does It Takes (Jr Walker & The All Stars),
Stop In The Name Of Love (Diana Ross & The Supremes),
Reach Out I'll Be There (Four Tops),
I Can't Help Myself (Four Tops),
Get Ready (The Temptations),
Dancing In The Street (Martha & The Vandellas)
I Hear A Symphony (Diana Ross & The Supremes).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v;=VTe06PrXwo4
Top Tracks for Earth, Wind & Fire....
Starts with;
"Fantasy" (1977)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kTQJ2QiK4QU&playnext;=1&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9AIdf-oDDL0ZRzIehPw5WY6
Top Tracks for Diana Ross & the Supremes
Starts with;
Love Child!!!!
Beautiful imagery!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_IluVWcNtR8&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9BkdB7ckbcLpD9AIriJX-5P
**The Power of Music & Images
Used On One Of The Most Popular
& Most Loved Ballads Of All Time, Enjoy!!!**
***Top Tracks for Chicago
Starts with;***
Hard To Say I'm Sorry
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqq3tW3iACw&playnext;=1&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9ABX4lv1Ast8ZktnOYg-vpB
Okay so double triple down on this!!!!!!!!
LOVE CHILD Diana Ross & The Supremes
***~Sky Isa Love~~
What can I say my first album;***
LOVE CHILD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Gets me every time!!!!!!!
More Beautiful Imagery!!!
Afu Ra Ka ALL!!!!! (see note)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2icqNPcNS4
EARTH WIND & FIRE-WOULD YOU MIND
...Sky Isa Love
very beautiful once again!!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rInQEQ-yUc
A Motown mega-mix mashup: Motor City's biggest hits combined with classic Christmas songs, sung by your favorite Motown stars.
Includes....
"I Saw My Girl Kissing Santa Claus"
"I Jingle That Emotion"
"I Heard It From The Red Nosed Reindeer"
"Claus Get Next To You"
"Santa Was a Rollin' Stone"
"Ain't No Silent First Noel"
...as performed by....
Stevie Wonder
Michael Jackson
Smokey Robinson
The Temptations
The Supremes
The Mormon Tabernacle Choir
...and, of course, the Funk Brothers.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNvoSf2389k
THAT IS ALL!!!
LOVE ALL!!!!
Sa Sa Ra!!!!
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
Sick and cyclical memories linger, how unjust it seems
In somber city streets, her father's name she screams
When the fix is late and her body sodden and shaking
Her childhood recollections waking, every joint aching
Falling on tarmac, tearing stockings and fleshy knees
Through the distant mist it's a saviour that she sees
Marvin on a white steed, motorbike and leathers
To get her straight he only requires her nethers
What difference could it make to such a worn woman
So little that her eyes glaze as he announces his comin'
And she's immediately put to work after initial transaction
All night shifts, ****** abstraction, customer satisfaction
Returning 'home' to Marvin where the earnings are counted
Giggling schoolgirl as playful stories of John's are recounted
And Marvin's insatiable perversions are compounded
****** cocktails and deviancy, her psyche confounded
The **** sleeps blissfully beside his new top girl
And through ****** daze, she examines her world
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Loony Tunes
Bugs Bunny is my favorite rabbit,
watching him became my habit.
He was smart, funny and two steps ahead,
his popularity was very widespread.
His best friend was Daffy Duck,
he never did have the same luck.
Rabbit season, duck season,
rabbit season, duck season,
watching them, I needed no reason.
Speedy Gonzales was so very quick,
this fast mouse was also a *****
Owned his own pizza place,
won a gold metal, at the local rat race.
Yosemite Sam was a short tempered man,
killing Bugs and Daffy was always his plan.
He's a liar, a cheat and a sore loser,
maybe he should have been a drug user.
Tasmanian Devil was a tornado of destruction,
he never needed any kind of introduction.
Foghorn Leghorn never saw a negative situation,
I say, I say boy was his favorite quotation.
Pepe Le Pew was a French skunk,
women loved his smelly *****
Marvin The Martian was from Mars,
his laser gun would leave you with scars.
Tweety was an antagonizing canary,
lived with Granny, and flew like a crafty fairy.
Sylvester was Granny's pet cat,
him and Tweety always went *** for tat.
Road Runner was so very fast,
said beep beep as Wile E Coyote he passed.
Never fell for those Acme supplies,
getting blown up was his ultimate demise.
Porky Pig was just happy to be included,
the, the that's all folks, is how this will be concluded.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
We are the forgotten ones
The ones who can articulate
beyond the guns and knifes.
We don't need a beat
Our word flow through emotionally.
We are here to capture and decipher minds
Teach them all those things school has left behind
How history is only written by the victor
How there's more to blacks than Rosa Parks, Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr's his..tory.
Let's not leave out the truth.
Poets stand up, fight for the youth.
We share our truth about love
Let's share the truth about knowledge
Forget the cliches of if life gives you lemons make lemonade.
We freed ourselves from the British.
Then enslaved Africa and made them forget who they were.
Only of Britain would had thought of that first.
Let's not sugar coat the past
Let's control the present and the future.
Poets stand up
We are the symphonies of hip hop, rap and r&b;
We are the class.
We are the Billy Holliday and Marvin Gay of this new era.
Like the fitted cap we fit snugg.
Poets stand up.
**** speaking on unicorns and rainbows
The sunny side of the chi.
Just last night my Lil man's got shot by the cops.
I use to say he was my son
Now I plan his funeral with his mom.
Poets stand up
Bloods, crips, gangsters, thugs re unite as the black panthers.
Poets stand up!
Poets stand up!
As they say ok ok your 15 seconds of fame Is up. No more from you today Mr. Ananymous.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
Her name was Hannah and I loved her blonde hair
Tender young woman on the streets, price was fair
Meeting at the corner of Forest Road, he said she'd know where
Marvin hooked me up, my training was complete
Time to get back on the horse, really find my feet
She jumped in my car, I smelt a perfume so sweet
She flashed me a smile and wished I was her
At this point I didn't know what was to occur
To be in this girl's skin is what I would prefer
We took a room at the seedy hotel in town
Closing the door, I turn around, she sat down
She took off my jeans, all she had was a frown
I told her I knew her Daddy and he treated me real mean
She got up to go, so I struck her face, it came keen
Told her I was his slave from the age of eighteen
The smirk on her face filled me with manly rage
Again she tried to leave, so I truly blew my gauge
A swift punch took her down, bruised her rib cage
I tore into her **** uniform and took what was mine
Begging me to stop but it was already too late to decline
I used her body in masculine rage, treated her like swine
And when I was done I left her crying on the bed as I left
I just took something from her but it didn't feel like theft
I got what I wanted so I didn't think of how she was bereft
Said to her as I left that if she told Marvin, she would die
She lay crying on the bed, so there was no word of reply
Quickly left the seedy hotel and look up at the night sky
Marvin took my masculinity so I took it out on his girl
What do I have to lose, I've got nothing in this world
He'll look for me soon, revenge in my mind, time to give it a whirl
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
For the past two hours
this Mac has hypnotised
my gaze to its white screen
and every website has
sentries at the door -
Username ? Password ?
Already registered ? Login
When did we become so
chary one of another ? Were
folks so paranoid in the pre-
digital age when existence
had not been magicked into
noughts and ones in Silicon
Valley? It did not seem so.
(c) C J Heyworth July 2014
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 4:41 PM UTC
Good old Gregory Goose was Gladder than any Gander could be and not Just because Nelson the Ninja Snail had said he was "JUST-DUCKY" ! This was a Very Special morning for Gregory Goose, in Fact it was yesterdays Super Special situation that made His Delight so DELICIOUS. The comment by Nelson the Ninja Snail, had simply added to His Glory! Gregory's Special Situation Had been the Unexpected Announcement that HE was to be Named "TEAM-CAPTAIN" for the Annual "Hog Wallow and Here's Mud in Your eye" CONTEST ! ! "Oh the delight" He thought, "I am to be Captain, after waiting all these years". "ME" he exclaimed ! "Captain of the South Forty Blocks"...... "W O W ' ! ! At the most convenient time of the day, Harold Hippo, Candy Cow, Curtis Chipmunk, Marvin Monkey, Beatrice Bovine and Larry Lynx decided to make a Personal call on Good Old *GREGORY GOOSE . Keep in mind Now, That Harold, Candy, Curtis, Marvin, Beatrice and Larry we're the *INSIDE, of the "INNER-CIRCLE". JUST ASK THEM !! They were on the INSIDE ! ! Well, when Gregory Goose heard the Knock at the door, He opened it with a Great Big Grin, That ONLY Gregory could Give! Before Him stood the "J U D G E S " of All Contests and Efforts. *Gregory was Beside Himself ! ! Instead of Seeing a group of Smiles and Handshakes, He saw Staring Eyes, Necks that had been stiffened AND *Gnashing of Teeth. Beatrice Bovine was the First to Speak, "Gregory, it has been brought to our attention that you had a conversation with Nelson the Ninja Snail,, and YOU didn't Rebuke his statement of being called "JUST-DUCKY". "As a result of this, *WE decided YOU "Cannot Be" CAPTAIN of the Hog Wallow and Mud in Your Eye Contest, PERIOD ! ! Gregory Simply smiled, Looked Straight into their Eyes, Quietly said "BYE", Softly Closed the door.... Turned Grinning, Knelt to his Knees, PRAYING, Thanking GOD, for the FACT,, That he, Gregory, He was Made just a *LITTLE BIT PECULIAR ! !
Jan 10, 2011
Jan 10, 2011 at 3:19 AM UTC
I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let her introduce herself. Sadie, she said, like The Beatle's song.
I'm hard to forget, so I asked, What's your motto?
She breathed in reverse. She looked at the door. She was past mottos.
It was Josh, right?
Yeah.
Let me tell you something. I'm the bad, **** ***** that's gonna wreck your health.
And she did.
Every weekend for 105 weekends. I opened her up like a paycheck.
I spent her on a big brass bed.
I spent her on glass tile.
I spent her on the kitchen island.
The Japanese table.
The water lily pond.
Her brother Frank or Gary or Marvin---some American classic---kept us
horizontal with white whiskey from his personal still.
Personal still.
And there is a house in New Orleans,
but there's another one in Colorado Springs,
one you should be wary of.
I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. I let him tell me about his dream. My name is Jack, he said, as in Jumpin' Jack Flash.
Like the Rolling Stones' song?
Like the Stones' song, man.
You were in it.
Four white girls shared one mic. Karaoke night.
You were in my dream. Are you listening to me? I'm gonna say it anyways.
I only had one eye, but I could see you. Seen you plain as day.
You were scared of me. As you should be. We were on the coast.
No, I don't know which one. I saw that thought on your forehead.
It was a dream. Anyway, you were holding a pen. A giant pen.
And I asked for your name.
I lifted my drink from the makeshift napkin coaster. Pulled a pen out of my coat pocket.
Straightened out the napkin. I scribbled Nobody. Handed it to him. And aimed myself toward the interstate.
I shoud've told the bartender to tie me to the last working pay phone.
But I didn't. She had one helluva an afro. Her name was Katrina, not like any song, like the hurricane.
My skin tastes a little like coffee, Katrina said.
I like coffee.
You wouldn't like me.
Probably not. But I've been lost in this bar forever. I could change my mind.
No, sweetie. Forever ain't that long. Just ask my ex-husband.
Katrina paid for her drink. Asked me if I'd like the change.
Yeah, I'll take it.
I called my buddy Chris back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
I called my buddy Ben back in Oklahoma, but he didn't answer.
Sam. Sarah. Brooks. Nothing. Silence.
Barkeep (I always wanted to say it), I don't think your phone is working.
It works. You gotta remember kid. You're on Rocky time.
There's an hour, every night,
where you're the only person you know that's awake.
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 2:48 AM UTC
I love love, I love hate, I love love before it's love, I love love after it dies
I love sunny days, I love rainy days, I love overcast , and I love the snow
I love walking, I love breathing,
I love listening I love speaking
I love interactions with factions upon factions and I truly love being alone
I love the rich, I love the poor, I love Liberals and Conservatives
I love they got meanings of the terms twisted and preach so vehemently about the superiority of their ideology
I love those who speak logically, I love those who listen, I love words that were written to be spoken, and those that were just to be written
I love racists, I love blacks, I love whites, and every ethnicity with any pigmentation that falls between them or against them
I love all cultures equally, And I love cultures that hold themselves to a higher esteem than other cultures
I love Cops and I love Criminals, I love Order and alcoholics and crack addicts who just keep gettin back at it with bare minimals
I love Devote Christians, I love Krampus, I love Christmas,
I love Baphomets, I love Marvin Gaye, I love The Doors Greatest Hit list
I love Batman, I love the Joker,
I love marijuana, and both those who are and are not avid smokers
I love the freedoms I enjoy everyday and I love that men are systematically taught to hate me on a spiritual level with such passion that they would strap a bomb to their chest just to end my existence
I love the Persistence, Of time, Life, Movement, The Cosmos, and I love that it keeps on existing so fluently that we feel almost lucidly that our existence is significant =)
I love the inquisitive look in the eyes of babies asking questions without the means to ask questions that, in due time, will only be answered by questions and answers that evoke much larger questions. And I love both those questions and the appropriate answers.
I love those with and without an appreciation for the nonsensical
I love you
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
following on with my current obsession with my tomato growing experiment, ive decided to look at books, and films, and any other related tomato themes, as follows:
The Tomatoes Of Wrath-Steinbeck
A Midsummer Night's Tomato-Shakespeare
Tomato And Juliet-Ditto
Frankentomato-Shelley
Alice in Tomatoland-Carrol
Night Of The Living Tomato-zombie horror!
E.T.- Extra Tomato!
Tomatoes And Prejudice-Austen
I Heard It On The Tomato Vine-Marvin Gaye
You're So Vine- Carly Simon
Summertime (and the living is tomato)-Ella Fitzgerald
LGBT-LGB+Tomato
BY Jemia de Tomatoville 😏🍅🍅🍅🦋💕🙄
any other suggested ideas welcome, as i may bring out a book on the subject (but thankfully, probably won't!) and will, or not, call it Tomato Wrong!
Aug 4, 2020
Aug 4, 2020 at 7:38 AM UTC
Music reminds me of you.
The first time I saw your smile and inhaled your perfume as you walked by.
Who would have thought you would become my fantasy. I now understand why doves cry.
If I had of known the girl next door was you......I would have sent flowers and balloons to your place.
Just to allow a smile to rent some time on your beautiful face.
Beauty is your name.....you wear the clothes and are a vision of class.
Anytime you are at an affair ......they assume you are VIP or First class.
I want to know what's on your mind......as you go about your day. Who has your mind, body, and soul? Who keeps you warm at night....or is your bed kept cold?
Come and talk to me.....I really want to know your name. Although, I am too shy to speak. A portrait of beauty who resides next door. All eyes on me as you exit out the door. Here's my chance....but what do I say? Not much because you take my breath away.
Your the only one I want to slow dance with.....I know you are not a gold digger and you won't have to shed any tears. I'm all you need to get by.....and I'll get the keys from Marvin's Room.
Music reminds me of you
A house is not a home if you are not there....my imagination roams freely and there we are one. We lived happily ever after and you gave birth to a son.
Don't wake me I'm dreaming.......I had a taste of Brown sugar and I just couldn't get enough.
Music reminds me of you.....please refill my cup.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 4:56 PM UTC
S3
Sleepless, Shuffling In Stockholm
Somewhere in my body,
A bifurcated clock ticks,
Two clock faces,
White on black,
Vice versa.
Mixed media messages,
Crazy train station internal,
Brain activity fevered,
Arrive/depart according to
Somebody else's schedule,
Somebody else occupying,
Every street of my body
Lying asleep,
Typing these words,
It is the middle of the night,
Bright daylight suffuses the room
What part of my metaphysical schema,
Ain't jet lagged legally,
And poetically entitled to be
Stockholm Syndrome Confused?
Times have really changed,
Oh my, when you propose,
Let's go to Stockholm,
Anything goes!
So my schedule reordered
In the land of either all
Light or Dark, twenty hours four,
I turn to my boon companion,
Who soothes at any hour,
My music, my Nano,
And I find myself, musically,
Shuffling in Stockholm.
Meatloaf and Piazzolla,
Muddy Waters and Purple Rain,
Marvin Gaye and Pink Martini,
Beethoven, Straight No Chaser,
Beatles, Stones, Bennett vs. Buble,
The lack of sleep a permanent fixture,
Courtesy of this Bach-us admixture,
So should you see a gappy, khaki, clad tourist,
Meandering o'er the islands of this charming city,
In Ingmar Bergman fashion,
Black and white erratic,
Alternating, swaying and shuffling,
No tongue clucking,
Nah, he's not drunken,
Just dancing while sight seeing,
In a sleep deprived manner,
Someday a movie to be,
Sleepless, Shuffling In Stockholm
A/K/A
S3
June 30 ~ July 2, 2012
Stockholm, Sweden
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
What steps he took, after losing his edge
Cocky **** running wild in days, never slept
Took drugs, took women, took men
Never slept again
What cliffs she admired, after seeing the edge
Tormented in fuzzy daydream childhood afternoons
She came down and stayed for days
An obsession with time to the point of stasis
I think I'm losing my edge
He thinks he's dead again
She lost the bed again
A faceless man was sat on a bench by the seafront
Hood high, said goodbye
Told me his missed the old style, wants more
Told him I was tired and this is whorish
What vines are these, that bound my ankles
and I was screaming into vacuums, grand clocks, strange houses
Safe houses that become embers
Magic men, shaman, shaggy hair, danced there
To use words in multiple places, placing clues
A whole story, absolute, read it backwards, forewords
iTunes shuffle function, on the poetry of the soul
(if it exists)
But he lost his edge again
Yes he went to Africa, saw the face of God and the Devil, unification
Iboga, uneasy stomach, vomited and killed them all
Watched the world burn, and children dance
Bluebell Lucy on arrival, back home
Taunted the skies, saved the proletariat
Grew wild roots and sang, some seraph
Admittedly not an architect, or a poet or **********
How many people have made these allusions
Sold drugs, killed men, ran home, all there, ghost of government
Hedgerows grew wild, were noticed and cut down
Still praise beatitude, Ginsberg, love-made, Kerouac, still plays
She was Hannah and she was Malcolm, also Marvin
He was them too, all the same, transcendental self-infatuation
Peach trees, coloured blinds, ashy scattered floorboards
Burnt home, music playing, popular culture
All free-form even with formality
A stream of conscious way of life
Outlook unsure
He thought he lost his edge
Turns out s/he never had it
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 12:26 PM UTC
saying **** off* seems so much more
easier when you're petting cats....
they just say it for you...
there he is, Quarus,
the operatic singer nearing sunset,
200 variations of a mulling of meow,
i end up calling him Orbison Rufus,
the ginger Roy of Peckham -
he basically meows lazily like Roy
singing... as said / i.d. (id est): the umbras
or umbrellas - counting the shadows'
version of Apache's yawn: ah-woo ah-woo
ah-woo nagging the reflex...
gave them the yawn and gave them 1950s
America... Billy the Kid talking to the king of
Specs... hank marvin.... cheese grater
with those teeth... dozen cows buckling with
the herding in while the dog carved a feel
for religion in the translation of the Vatican
from coliseum into football requirements...
the movies were great in the 1950s, just after
the technicolour... petting cats was never such a thrill...
the operatic meow, onomatopoeia from echo
in a cave to knock-on-wood...
200 variations of the knock
and 12 whiskey shots downed
while playing poker... 12 cowboys
1 Milwaukee and 30 Turks... classic Tarantino...
i said the Apache yawn... i never said giving
out smoke signals...
Quarus my ginger is demanded as having laughed...
he's Roy Orbison with the meow,
pretty much lazy...
looks like a murmur when he tries singing,
pretty woman, trolling down the street,
Gucci, Chanel, and everything in the scrapheap of lobotomy,
as is Paris necessarily mentioned: chiselled
white collars... Roy knew before Elvis...
the trick came with sunglasses,
and the gluttonous slur of the half-opened mouthing
for subsequent mouthing it off...
no amount of cheese in French could ever
charter the success of the cheeses added to cheeseburgers
with the milkshakes, which were plainly Dutch
laughing cows named Novices....
quick-melts and some said:
dreadlocks of string-yellow Gouda pulled
for a hippies' worth of Chinese chugging down
a pint or two, for worth of gag and the slim mascot;
the Chinese never taught Cannes arithmetic
of the thumb through to pinky...
i don't know how they taught counting
with their complex ideograms, they never taught
arithmetic give their encoding...
they taught pure math.. they never taught the simplest
of assurances... meaning so few of them became bankers.
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
Albert King, sung loud about being born under a bad sign.
B B King, sung about his need for a little bit of love.
And stated later.
How the thrill was gone?
Far remove from Marvin Gaye's pleading to Let Get It On.
Different era.
Different song.
Howling Wolf.
Muddy Waters.
And Little Milton too.
Could have you dancing and begging too.
When the Mojo got to working.
The thrill came back.
Like the red rooster chasing the hen around.
Until you felt.
You was born under a bad sign.
When the loving got uo and left.
Was you a scorpion?
Or Taurus.
The sting or the steam couldn't assist you.
Least when you're listening too ZZ Hill.
Singing down home blues.
Then you could careless about being born under a bad sign.
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
When loved by an addict
you may run the risk of them finding another addiction in the softest touch of your skin
or the happiest gazes of your eyes
or the way your mouth curves into a smile
Maybe just your voice
When I think of my grandma, Bettie,
I want to know how she felt when the doctors plucked
one of her husband’s lungs from his chest like it was the petal of a flower
I wonder if she whispered
“he loves me not”
like we did as school children
When I think about the day he died
I imagine Bettie holding rib cutters over his body
cutting through his chest
pulling him open,
Plucking the right lung from his chest
saying “He loves me”
Before my grandfather’s death
I never saw Bettie smile the way she does now
I wonder if she walks with Marvin’s lung in her right pocket
whispering
“He loves me.”
“He loves me.”
“He loves me.”
To know you are loved by an addict,
You must see they have the ability to pull away from the substance they have come to love as much as the oxygen they need to survive-
But without asking them to.
I wonder if there will come a day
when I find a woman
that I would keep myself
on this planet longer for
try to save myself from the family tradition of dying due to substance abuse
Some nights
I drink shots of gin
1. “I’ll find her.”
2. “I won’t.”
3. “I’ll find her.”
4. “I won’t”
At noon,
I wake to an empty bottle,
But I don’t remember what phrase I ended on.
I am plucking away at these flowers
trying to find the petal that could draw me away:
It goes:
“Not this one.”
“Maybe it’s her.”
“Not this one.”
“Not this one.”
“Not this one.”
At dawn,
the flowers stand
with petals outstretched like they are getting ready to fly
every one of them is shining due to the glistening dew
I ask myself
staring out the window at this floral covered plain
what life was for my grandfather
wish I had taken the time to know how he knew
my tiny, brunette, curly haired grandmother
was the right woman for him
and how he found her petal
in this field
of flowers.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 12:31 AM UTC
Motown mojo hops down
Through speakers,
While neon lights
Flash smiles.
A cool, green liquid sits,
Untouched in a lean glass.
Mellow lights give
The place a quiet class.
Amid the pulse of an
After-midnight entourage,
The clamor of
Celebratory laughs.
What’s going on?
Two birds fly by
On the way down South,
Where dancing tunes
Can be heard,
If you listen just right.
Down there, it’s a maze.
I’d rather stay up here,
And park myself
In a trouble-free simplicity,
Letting my mind wander…
Off the beat.
A shift.
Gazing out the window,
And past a yawn,
The fuel of the night
Is far from gone,
Because I can dig
Marvin anywhere.
My attention predictably
Short-lived, I become engrossed
By a bead of dark whiskey,
Which lies upon a neighboring seat
(An elegantly tall bar stool,
Probably made from a cherry tree).
And it’s there I am reminded,
It’s always been the night I seek.
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 1:51 AM UTC
Albert King, sung loud about being born under a bad sign.
B B King, sung about his need for a little bit of love.
And stated later.
How the thrill was gone?
Far remove from Marvin Gaye's pleading to Let Get It On.
Different era.
Different song.
Howling Wolf.
Muddy Waters.
And Little Milton too.
Could have you dancing and begging too.
When the Mojo got to working.
The thrill came back.
Like the red rooster chasing the hen around.
Until you felt.
You was born under a bad sign.
When the loving got uo and left.
Was you a scorpion?
Or Taurus.
The sting or the steam couldn't assist you.
Least when you're listening too ZZ Hill.
Singing down home blues.
Then you could careless about being born under a bad sign.
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 12:11 AM UTC
The bass hits hard in the back seat of a car
Passing zoots back & forth, here we are
Hoods up, the man dem looking for war
Pistol gripped, left hand, and we're sure
Trying to **** a man tonight for the cause
Man got the cash, that's right, that's ours
Trying to get that food for the fight, for the boys
Animals in black masks holding their toys
Orders from above as we arrive at the spot
To the place where the man-a get popped
Shifty looking bloke in a hood, we've been clocked
Every man rush from the car on the block
Running with the crew with my hand on my... glock
Round the corner, right towards the shops
At that point the man we pursue just stops
At that point all we hear is gun shots
Rodney got shot, Malcolm got shot
Barry got shot, Marvin got shot
Mans on the roof picking us off like dogs
I let the banger blare, but I know I lost the plot
Took a hasty retreat on my lonesome in the dark
Made a left by the pub and ended up at the park
Man still chasing me, I know they're not far
I need to get back to my crew and the car
I'll probably be dead before I get past the bar
I kept on towards my estate, just to be sure
No long ting, I don't want a grand tour
Shook the man off when I got to my door
But when I got inside, the only thing that I saw
The faces of my dead friends and a land of no law
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
Dream works; Lion King
Simba talks to Mufasa.
That's when I pulled my pants up, and started fixing my posture.
Then looked up above.
I struggle with love.
Struggle with hate.
Hard to debate.
Leave and change when I fall But I still wanna participate.
22 in 10 days.
Turning 22, in 10 different ways
A different shade.
A midnight black, to a faded gray.
I opened this chapter.
Dressed for the rapture.
Run and tell master.
While they're telling Ima take it all to the pastor.
Or am I dreaming?
Wake up Wake up.
Time to break up, from the shake up.
Don't let em see you down,
Get dressed,
And put on make up.
I'm evolving.
Starving like Marvin.
Sky is still calling
My name ain't Jim Jones, but one day I'll be ballin'.
Will I give back?
No looking back.
Dashing that.
Getting older now; getting bigger, steady hungry trying to pick up the pieces.
Pledge of allegiance to the money now.
Now and forever.
Finesse, but I'm still not that clever.
One day I'll be; probably never.
And nowadays 22 is still declared young.
But that won't change me from growing, I won't settle for none.
Nowadays 22 can feel old or feel young.
With these 10 days left I know it's better to come.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 12:25 AM UTC
Who are my characters? John Prat or Marvin Prat. John Ector or Marvin Ector. Then there is Mrs. Valdez and Autumn. Who are they in relation to John and Marvin? What do you want your characters to show? Who are they? Are they funny? Comical? Tragic? What? What do they want? I want them showing me. I want them as extensions of me. I want to take everything I have learned and put them into my characters. They are facets of my imagination combined into one giant ball, clusterfuck and **** of people that is my life. I want them to display my hatred. My disheveled hair. My looks. I want them to be oddly reminiscent of my family and my personal life. I want them to ignore their own feelings and not be happy. I want them to be happy. I want them to love and cry and weep and feel pain. I want the world to hate them and I want them to hate themselves, I want the world to love them and I want them to love themselves. I want them to fall from grace. I want them to fall down so many times and be on the verge of not picking themselves up. To say **** this I'm done with it all. I want them rejected and rejected and rejected and keep losing. I want them to win. I want them to destroy themselves. I want them to create themselves. I want them to create their own world filled with imagination. I want to **** them. I want them bleeding and bruised. I want them to end up homeless on the street with nowhere to go with needles sticking out of their veins. I want them to find god. I want them crawling through a river of **** and coming out clean on the other side. I want them to enjoy the little things and hate the little things. I want them to come to life. But ultimately I want them to make me cry. I want them to touch something inside of me that laid dormant for years. I want them to understand and feel my pain and empathize with me like no one has. I want myself in these pages. These sticky pages that combine to make a story.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC