"mascot" poems
I. The event wall:
The quarters going coloured:
Red, yellow, limpid azure,
white unalloyed;
at the center, a dark void
lightening, radiating outward -
never breaking the event-horizon.
Reverent circumambulation
by tradition, is done clockwise.
II. Reading the tiles
Is peace in expansion
or contraction?
Incarceration. Staring at the tiles.
Acceptance or rebellion?
Time doesn't tell.
III. Prospect
You are free now:
making a mascot of you,
we have set you free.
While singing paeans
to your greatness yet,
we bemoan how
coolies and ******* are
be-spoiling our home.
Rest in peace!
We'll wait for Christ.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
If I ever see you again
I'll spat insults and hope they
Spray on your aviators
like the bugs that squashed against
my windshield the last time
I drove away from you
If fate destroys me
and I am in the same pub one night
as your wormy self
I'll tell you how you're the most
arrogant, vapid, shallow, womanizing,
******* male mascot
I've ever had the disgust to know
I'll slap you hard across the face
Oh and not like Scarlett O'Hara,
you demon darling
No crushing kiss will follow
and I'll mean vengence
vile will seep through my mouth
instead of the sweet saliva
I let you taste
long ago
If I ever hear your voice
or see your mocking manequin
among my tele again
With disgraceful force
I will lift that 50 lb set
and propel that ******* screen
across the state
The way your black static apology
shattered the brightness
that used to reside
within
me
If I hear of you
one more dispicable time
I'll grow bombs maticulously
within my empty core
and time them so perfectly
that all of your dysfunctional doormat
confidants
will explode the second they come near me
and their manipulative cells
will burst
and be burried among the soil
of ***** words
you whispered in my ears
**** if I ever see you again
I'll shatter every martini glass around me
and down a fifth of fireball
and breath venomous fire
and burn you, you beastly boy
And I'll pretend beauty amongst you
and walk away, a tall glass of water
That could diffuse
that angry licking fire
that is swallowing you up
When I see you again
I won't acknowledge your existence
and I'll be dressed to the nines
and I won't do a ******* thing about it
Because you aren't worth a sentence within this stanza
But I know I am.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
I’m rocking back and forth against the hull of my loneliness,
Stuck in knowing it’s goodbye
But not being able to say I love you
or I’m sorry.
I’m crying with joy and longing as I lie in the love and conversation around me,
Wishing it were mine.
I’ve been high so long my heart rate stopped going down with the sun.
Going over it all all over again all the time.
I feel like a child again, terrified by the the dark, the wind, the eyes of men.
I’m breaking down in the line at the gas station.
Looking out the glass wall at a Lovecraftian highway,
Flickering florescent lights like the ones from The Exorcist.
On my way to a cavernous husk of a family dinner,
Most of them gone now.
Just me, my mother, and my widowed, bereaved, great aunt.
There’s a stupid old cardboard cutout of a mascot next to me grinning too widely, holding up its product.
I scream and tear it’s head off it’s body
In my mind.
I have work on Monday.
This is life.
Sep 19, 2023
Sep 19, 2023 at 12:14 PM UTC
procuring lexical polymorphism
synthesizing atypical signifier
playing blue album
awaiting tomorrow's celebrations
adding complex plugins
altering element content
watching office mascot
wheeling hue-named albums
undulating forest growth
pricing those yankees
finding layman's chaos
enjoying another victory
reviewing markup concepts
ditching error messages
enjoying relative obscurity
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
Unanswered uncertainties limber up
Unwanted confrontations cumulate
Passion deliquescing over unexplored reason
Unacknowledged, ignored, overwritten and dismissed
Without consideration for his fragile heart
The answers flow broiling him, wearing him down
Scorn rejection,
When trust is misplaced,
And she exfoliates to true skin
Hatred smothers over her love act
Bogs him down by the shoulders
All seems empty, all is empty
Toyed with, lied to and used up
He is a clock rigged for self destruction
With no actions that lead to consequences
The reason seems bleak and obvious
His respect for her dies, His respect for her other doesn't exist
She is not the one he loved, she is not the one that he knew
A younger him he sees in her other
Making the same mistake he did, mislaid trust
The multifaceted chameleon that she is
The other doesn't see
Pouring his heart out and defending her wrongs
The other starts to undermine and ignore him
Move on they say,
Only his heart is too heavy
Forget her they say,
Only she was a perennial settlement in my memory, he thought
Hate her they say,
Only he hates himself more for trying
No one understands him
Everyone tries, but no one understands
He loved, he was back stabbed
He suffered and suffocated under the blanket of secrets
Lighten your heart brother, the mascot of a good soul
You will be alright.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
I will get straight
to the point, shoving
past year after year
after year, count them
dear, sick puppy
torn from the pack
blood smeared
you culled me from
the herd and made me
your stuffed meal
your worse than zeal
your mascot
When I was twelve years old
you bent me into a comma
When I was twelve and
one quarter you bent me
into a fist, a fetal position
you could not resist
The love of a child
when I was twelve
and a half I fought
back but lucky you
no mother love was
listening
The anatomy of a child
You son of a *****
Who's the hunter now?
Not you, nearly seventy
years old, ***** hippie
with one dry pointed
finger (you know
which one)
To be
To be continued
when I'm done
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 9:32 PM UTC
When I was stationed at Enoggera, as a young platoon sergeant with 9 RAR, a Merino ram was offered, and accepted, as the Battalion mascot. The diggers called him Stan. The brigade RSM of the time was outraged because he viewed our adoption of Stan as a direct and improper play on his surname, which was Lamb. And, of course, he being as bald as a coot the diggers called him Curly. As I recall, Stan was a lively, ill disciplined beast with little respect for the niceties of service life, hence:
When Stan-the-Ram met Curly Lamb a fracas did ensue.
For Curly stood beside the road just outside B.H.Q.;
His Sam Brown belt so shiny, his pace-stick 'neath one arm,
The RSM of our brigade was used to war's alarm.
But Stan, although a raw recruit and barely chewing grass,
Unimpressed by Curly, charged and knocked him on his ****
"It's contact rear" cried Curly, as he struggled to his feet,
Turned about with arms akimbo his assailant for to meet.
Meanwhile Stan's poor handler looked ready to desert
'cos Stan-the-Ram whilst in his care had Curly eating dirt.
I guess he felt embarrassed, which was natural, wouldn't you?
If involved in such a fracas outside of BHQ.
Your questions are but natural and in answer I can swear,
As these events unfolded I was marching off the square.
Having Just dismissed defaulters I was feeling rather mean
But my despondency was lifted by that ****** glorious scene.
And in the mess that evening rang out laughter clear and loud,
For I'd told them all my story and of Stan we felt quite proud.
There was Sutherland and Massingham, and Peter Cowan too
And Tim Daly called **** Gordon from his room, well, wouldn't you?
And when **** heard my story he poured port into a glass,
And we drank a toast to Stanly putting Curly on his ****
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 1:45 AM UTC
Lonely nights, lonely nights I’m sick and tired of em
A broken soul left alone just to wallow in
I need someone to rescue me from this painful life
Someone I can depend on anytime, day and night
I used to walk the streets and see all of the happy people
Should I be in pain or just down right lonely? The lesser of two evils
The heartache I’ve felt in my life taught me to never trust another soul
Until I see her walking, she’s so beautiful
Usually I just let em walk right on by
Is it cause I’ve got nothing to give or cause I’m stupid shy?
In my mind I knew if I let her go then someone else might not let her go
I’ve got some words for her, this is what I let her know
(Chorus)
No I don’t know your name
I think ill just call you Ms. Beautiful
Thanks for saving me from the usual
I think ill just call you Ms. Beautiful
I think ill just call you Ms. Beautiful
Yea verse two; verse two is about the happy times
No more late night pity sessions, always crying
Now that I found you, you the best thing I’ve ever had
I promise ill do whatever it takes to make you happy, never mad
And I tell you that you perfect even thought you tell me that you not
And everyday ill make you feel beautiful just incase you forgot
Million lotto, feelin like I hit the jackpot
If love was the sport then baby you can be my mascot
Hard on the outside but baby you hit me in my soft spot
Told my friends to ahead and leave me behind, just me and my girl tonight
Now I don’t feel left behind, I’m feeling just right
She told me “never let me go, hold tight”
I told her we’d always be together like the moon in the night
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 11:41 AM UTC
I am the Hatter who is mad, they say.
Gone around the bend in every way.
A loon of the sorts who adores riddles and tea,
drowning in a land of ecstasy.
Come with me now! And please don’t fret!
I’ll show you wonders you will never forget!
I’ll show you heaven, hell, and everything in between,
the moon, stars, spiraling galaxies!
A magical realm where nothing is what it seems,
rabbits in waistcoats and a vicious red queen.
My home has an abundance of enchanted food and drink;
when consumed it could make you grow tall or shrink.
I am the mascot of this terrain.
Everyone knows me by my name.
So, let’s go and take my hand.
To a place that Alice called Wonderland!
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 5:57 PM UTC
His name is Mario Mario and he was Nintendo's mascot.
He used to be Nintendo's biggest star but now he's not.
Nintendo fired Mario when they learned that he has a Playstation 4.
They didn't want an employee who plays the games of a competitor.
He thought Luigi would take up for him but he's the one who turned Mario in.
When Mario got done with him, he was sorry and he won't betray Mario again.
When Luigi turned his brother in, Nintendo agreed to let Luigi take his place.
After Mario beat Luigi senseless, he started jumping up and down on his face.
Luigi learned that turning his brother in was a really stupid thing to do.
Mario broke several of Luigi's body parts and his face looks like an old shoe.
Mario believes that Nintendo is dumb because they made his first and last names the same.
And the entire world is shocked because there will be no future Mario games.
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
puff the magic dragon he lived by the sea
in his home in blackpool he just long to be
he liked the golden mile and the golden sand
with his bag of popcorn and an icecream in his hand
he would play with children they all loved him so
building castles in the sand gave there hearts a glow
he did magic tricks to entertain the crowd
when the crowd applauded it mean him very proud
everybody loved him and a mascot he became
then they made a song in honour of his name
puff the magic dragon is what they called the song
when the people heard it they would sing along
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 1:22 PM UTC
The sun is out in Jacksonville
Me oh my goodness gracious alive
Now that the Richter scale has calmed down
I'm happy to say, we've all survived
Hoping from the beginning we'd go extra innings
And that our side would win
Between the Suns owner and the fans who are moaners
We are now the Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp
So batter up you people
No need to be steamed it's just life
Though can you imagine the jokes from all of the folks
Might make us so boiling mad we could fry
And then there's the question of Southpaw
What's that mascot still doing here
I'm sure he can fetch but that's about it
Something smells fishy in this sailors beard
But I digress from where we should be
The theme is the name of the team
And I might be in hot water if I go any further
Without explaining what I really mean
Though you may not find
It very a-peel-ing
The way the owner did
In this fishy dealing
It might be to late but it's only a name
Try if you can to chow down on this
The teams still the same so come out to the games
No need for you to be so shellfish
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 4:41 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
Golden arches,
Some stop to eat.
Mouse ears,
Some stop to retreat.
All these shops that we see
And all the smiling faces
Plastered on a mascot
Brings the viewer to higher places.
The holidays come,
The people gather 'round
A flat screen TV
And knock each other to the ground.
Here used to lie an orange grove
That provided for the land.
Now times have changed, values too.
In its place a theme park stands.
This generation's happines
Can be bought and sold
By paper we deem valuable
For that is what we're told.
Yet the sight of a valley
Brings me more joy
Than any handy dandy
Service, gadget, toy.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 12:08 PM UTC
First, if I am comatose for a while pre-death, don't let them call me a fighter.
I'm probably not fighting it.
It's probably the first time I've been able to relax in a decade.
Second, keep my death off the internet.
Tell my friends of my demise with handwritten notes delivered by white-gloved butlers with somber expressions.
Tell my enemies by sitting on their chests and poking them in the forehead repeatedly until they guess how it happened. It shouldn't take long.
Third, my friends from high school will immediately try to design stickers for their car windows with my name on them and a graphic of dance shoes or track shoes or my college mascot.
You are not to allow this.
A sticker denoting the death of a loved one will not keep fellow motorists from noticing that my friends from high school **** at driving.
Not permitted at the funeral:
Gerber daisies
poetry
blue jeans
any ex-boyfriend I refer to by something other than their name (i.e. "the fat hipster I used to hang out with.")
Encouraged at the funeral:
Hugs - everyone must hug
lots of appropriately sad, yet tasteful songs sung by my musically-minded loved ones (may I suggest "In Light of Time" by Phillip E. Silvey?)
And make sure they bury me in the blue dress.
Last, for every story they tell about me where I was kind or selfless or funny or caring,
make sure someone also tells the story where I got too drunk at a frat house and made out with a kid from upstate New York and then spent four hours passed out and/or puking on the floor of the communal bathroom in Ashley's building,
or the one where I punched Savannah in third grade,
or the one where I rolled a car for no particular reason.
Remember me as I was.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 9:59 AM UTC
__________________________________
He laughed but he cried
A clown whose real eyes was dried
A mascot who always tells a joke
But how he wished that his neck be choke
She laughed but she cried
A lady whose heart was ripped
At daytime life of her persist
But at night she wanted to cut her wrist
He laughed but he cried
A boy whose been deeply bullied
A smirking kid at home
The saddest child when he's alone
He laughed but he cried
A writer that has a lot of pride
To his readers he play and giggles
But his life is full wiggles
They laughed but they cried
They are lonely but they smiled
Written: October 3, 2014 @ 9:30 PM
Mysterious Aries
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 7:07 AM UTC
This is a very difficult thing to say. I’ve never had these words fall out of my mouth before so, don’t think I’m odd, strange, creepy or anything like that. Okay..phew..here it goes..
I fell in love with a mascot
A year ago our High schools played each other in football
And I didn’t know it back then but
I saw a wolf doing cart-wheels 50 yards away and I thought
It was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen
To be honest, I thought it’d be a guy
Not to be sexist or anything but it never occurred to me
That the physical manifestation of beauty could find itself
Wrapped up inside the costume of a wolf
Your school won
And I figured that was a metaphor for how you took my heart
When you pulled off the wolf head
Slid brown hair away from your face
And batted eyelids at me like you were shooting guns
Bulls eye
Lead the crowd to cheer
Your motivation is like a beam of light in this dark 20th century stadium
I just want you to be around as long as possible
I wished the game went into triple overtime
If I learned anything that day it was courage
Because I asked a wolf
For her number
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 1:40 AM UTC
there was a little bear he loved the bingo hall
marking of his numbers to the callers call
with his felt tip pen he would mark them off
crossing off his numbers a proper bingo boff
he just loved to shout when ever he had won
playing games of bingo gave him so much fun
people they all loved him there mascot now his he
printed on a t shirt for all the world to see
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
What i am to them is an ornament.
My value is determined by the scales they use.
Freedom is a dream that looks far from reality.
Freedom is for the full who's destined for poverty.
A puppet of their play, they control me with strings.
Make me dance the mariet and clap hands and their so called brilliance.
A pawn in their game, they expect me to win.
Feed me steroids of spiritual wisdom and belief, to become the warrior destined to free them from their doom and misery.
The mascot they use to boost their fame.
Expect me to tell the world, they're the reason i am this way.
A well disciplined, obedient good mannered boy.
Parents and teacher.
The wardens of teenagers.
The tormentors of my soul.
Sep 24, 2010
Sep 24, 2010 at 3:17 AM UTC
Have you decided it?
The name of your mascot?
The hair colour? The eyes?
The hair style? The skin tone?
The character race? Nationallity?
Have you?
"Just do it as you wish" — that's how you respond to my question
But no, I won't do that
Because for me — Original Character or Mascot is something that resembles you the most
Why do I bother myself to make one for you?
Because no, I'm not too good in writing, also in english — far below your ability, I often do some grammatical errors
But I'm quite good in expressing my feelings, memories, emotions on drawings — a picture that represent a thousand words
And for me who have been living a lie — hiding behind this fake smile, my world is an empty place
But you've seen the other side of me, and instead of leaving you nurture it
You give me strength with these memories, my feelings with you
That was the the realest side of me, where I finally can be honest to myself
So please, answer my question
And let me draw your mascot
Let me believe that it's true, our memories, our feelings, our emotion
Then carve these beautiful memories of us eternally, where I can find it really lively when I started to get drowned again in my living lie
Because without you that memory is nothing more than just an imagination
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
Do you find yourself in need of
A State animal
or mascot for your home
well your search is at an end friend
You may think a lion is good
regal and proud
or
you may find yourself drawn to the otter
cute and funny
these may be good for a few
but I fear not you
Instead you should follow the current of the Jelly
Free to drift where they will
and hunted by very few
They have no spine but do just fine
And some are quite deadly
if you're into that sorta thing.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
Can't sleep
These dizzy thoughts
spinning ceaslessly
relentless
in a cup
Half empty,
Half full?
Who knows,
But in the end
the mad hatter will
still wish you had
never been born--
A very Merry Unbirthday to you
to me?
Indeed
Round and Round
they go
mixing colors, textures
emotions, thought
into this smear of humanity
A stain on the background of my mind
as it clicks and whirs and calculates
the options, the weighted possibilities
the electrical impulses zipping past
the smear of confused, muttled anguish
through it, around it,
but the shock cannot
seperate the colors
the textures, the emotions,
the thoughts
The colors melt into grey
various shades of unvarying
reluctant gestures
As the cheshire cat
smiles and laughs like
the cookie crisp mascot
cukoo for coooookie crisp
I hear its laughter
Chuckling madly
at the mad hatter and myself
the mad hatter sipping
out of the cup of grey
as he sings about my unborn nature
Unborn into the world of reality
of sensibility, of responsibility
WAKE UP
I snap back
I look around
and do not recognize
anything at all
Apr 4, 2010
Apr 4, 2010 at 4:10 PM UTC
My Duma was a cat, just an ordinary cat to others but to me he was my best friend, and my heart.
My Duma had a soft orange coat like the cheeto's mascot on the chip bag.
My Duma had blue/green eyes and a loving face always there when you needed him around.
My Duma was friendly and loving but one day he had a leg infection.
When My Duma had a leg infection, the vet's couldn't do anything to help him with it unless i had thousands of dollars, even though i said i'd pay bits by bits in time just to help save this little creatures life.
I tried everything for My Duma, to save him and keep his little leg protected.
But these vet's didn't care, they don't care about animals they just care about money.
I had to put my Duma down, give him away, i don't know if he's still alive but i will always love My Duma.
Even though it has been abot 10 years since My Duma is gone, i still feel pain inside and saddened.
He only lived for 2 years but left a spot in my heart where he will always stay.
Funny and naive My Duma was, always wanted to play and cuddle.
I love you My Duma, i wish you could come back.
Even certain songs remind me of you when you left i had them playing.
I'll never forget my baby Duma.
Thank you, thank you to the vet's who killed a living creature who was happy and bright.
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 11:05 PM UTC
It's a little known fact,
but true.
Jean-Luc Picard
grew up believing in Yoda.
Ever since he saw the little fella
in Star Wars, he's kept a picture of him
in his Star Trek wallet.
And if people knew that,
the ratings would
have been higher
for Star Trek,
'cause everybody loves Yoda.
Interestingly,
when the Apollo program
kicked off in the 60's,
Yoda hadn't even hit
the movie screens yet.
Too bad,
those early astronauts
would have loved
to have had a mascot!
Everybody knows,
space travelers
have to believe in someone.
It's just great universal karma!
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
***** charley
was the name of our high
school mascot
back in the early 1930's
we was a bunch of german kids
we loved adolph ******
--
after the war
i became a used-car dealer
in peoria
--
my wife died
my kids went to college
--
the grand children are
"out there"
----somewhere
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 1:19 PM UTC