"mime" poems - Hello Poetry

"mime" poems

She's an innocent little girl Unknown about the people in this world Who think it's a curse that she is born. It's nothing to do with her but with her gender. She has to suffer because she's her. She grows up while listening to those painful words By the voices of herds. Those words which struck her like a bullet inside her heart Now it's broken so much, it can't be mended even if we try hard. This is not what she wants But she's dumbfound like a mime, Stuck inside, bounded by walls Walking inside the empty halls. She screams but no one hears She wails but no one cares. There's no one here who feels her pain anymore As people ignore. It's a curse that she is born even if she did nothing bad at all. She has nothing else to do But to dream about another universe, Where people are one, Where there's no boy or girl That's what she thinks is a world. But that's not true, It's sad to say: She is a curse in every way. Why would they hurt such beauty and charm When they do so, She is so calm. She has wings Which are broken now And it stings If she tries to fly. But still try, You are not alone.

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Dec 26, 2014

Dec 26, 2014 at 9:38 AM UTC

She's an innocent little girl Unknown about the people in this world Who think it's a curse that she is born. It's nothing to do with her but with her gender. She has to suffer because she's her. She grows up while listening to those painful words By the voices of herds. Those words which struck her like a bullet inside her heart Now it's broken so much, it can't be mended even if we try hard. This is not what she wants But she's dumbfound like a mime, Stuck inside, bounded by walls Walking inside the empty halls. She screams but no one hears She wails but no one cares. There's no one here who feels her pain anymore As people ignore. It's a curse that she is born even if she did nothing bad at all. She has nothing else to do But to dream about another universe, Where people are one, Where there's no boy or girl That's what she thinks is a world. But that's not true, It's sad to say: She is a curse in every way. Why would they hurt such beauty and charm When they do so, She is so calm. She has wings Which are broken now And it stings If she tries to fly. But still try, You are not alone.

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Even the idea was worthy of a fight and all too much preparation. We dolled ourselves up for alienation, even though the faces present were so familiar and etched into memory. Who are you Mr.Cool? If that is your real name. Whiskey breath and filterless smokes only impresses the girls in the movies, with scripts written by clueless men like you, who can't supply injury so they bring only insult. You are a secretary bird, a mime, and the copycat kid. Trying to be a bad boy and hide amongst the spoiled brats you claim. Keep on burrowing and severing ties, ravishing resources leads to ruin. You say you've heard rumors? Well, I've heard facts. I've seen facts! Your parasitic disguise will crumble under the weight of your genuinely selfish persona. While the company I keep will only know the side you wished to reveal in front of all the pretty boys and girls.

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Sep 4, 2013

Sep 4, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC

tyler-lynn-pulliam

Party Night (Rumors)

Even the idea was worthy of a fight and all too much preparation. We dolled ourselves up for alienation, even though the faces present were so familiar and etched into memory. Who are you Mr.Cool? If that is your real name. Whiskey breath and filterless smokes only impresses the girls in the movies, with scripts written by clueless men like you, who can't supply injury so they bring only insult. You are a secretary bird, a mime, and the copycat kid. Trying to be a bad boy and hide amongst the spoiled brats you claim. Keep on burrowing and severing ties, ravishing resources leads to ruin. You say you've heard rumors? Well, I've heard facts. I've seen facts! Your parasitic disguise will crumble under the weight of your genuinely selfish persona. While the company I keep will only know the side you wished to reveal in front of all the pretty boys and girls.

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shortly before the birth of my eldest brother my father so absorbed in his most unfinished sermon misplaces a voodoo doll of a mime my mother’s mother loved and also lost

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Jun 3, 2013

Jun 3, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC

shortly before the birth of my eldest brother my father so absorbed in his most unfinished sermon misplaces a voodoo doll of a mime my mother’s mother loved and also lost

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Oh blue eyed baby accept this ring. Make me the happiest human being 5 years have passed and our quarrels far dwindled But our fire still burns from the pile we kindled 10 years and 10 more; I will always adore My blue eyed baby, forevermore “Till death do us part”, we said long ago Now 50 years past right out the window My eyes start to twitch and twinkle with mime But my love for you only grows deeper with time As my thoughts start to dwindle and turn into chime I’ll always remember, my blue eyed baby will always be mine Your memories fading and hair color too And our hearts are still red and your baby eyes blue Grasp tight of my hand and don’t let it slip I feel my life tripping out of its tick The morning rays shine through the pains of our room In our beds we await for our call to our tombs The time is not far; it’s coming soon But the blues eyes of yours baby will continue to bloom Forever and ever. I mean it I do.

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Dec 12, 2012

Dec 12, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC

Oh blue eyed baby accept this ring. Make me the happiest human being 5 years have passed and our quarrels far dwindled But our fire still burns from the pile we kindled 10 years and 10 more; I will always adore My blue eyed baby, forevermore “Till death do us part”, we said long ago Now 50 years past right out the window My eyes start to twitch and twinkle with mime But my love for you only grows deeper with time As my thoughts start to dwindle and turn into chime I’ll always remember, my blue eyed baby will always be mine Your memories fading and hair color too And our hearts are still red and your baby eyes blue Grasp tight of my hand and don’t let it slip I feel my life tripping out of its tick The morning rays shine through the pains of our room In our beds we await for our call to our tombs The time is not far; it’s coming soon But the blues eyes of yours baby will continue to bloom Forever and ever. I mean it I do.

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The song is gone; the dance is secret with the dancers in the earth, the ritual useless, and the tribal story lost in an alien tale. Only the grass stands up to mark the dancing-ring; the apple-gums posture and mime a past corroboree, murmur a broken chant. The hunter is gone; the spear is splintered underground; the painted bodies a dream the world breathed sleeping and forgot. The nomad feet are still. Only the rider's heart halts at a sightless shadow, an unsaid word that fastens in the blood of the ancient curse, the fear as old as Cain.

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The song is gone; the dance is secret with the dancers in the earth, the ritual useless, and the tribal story lost in an alien tale. Only the grass stands up to mark the dancing-ring; the apple-gums posture and mime a past corroboree, murmur a broken chant. The hunter is gone; the spear is splintered underground; the painted bodies a dream the world breathed sleeping and forgot. The nomad feet are still. Only the rider's heart halts at a sightless shadow, an unsaid word that fastens in the blood of the ancient curse, the fear as old as Cain.

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Our lives are a Jenga masterpiece, a collage of self-interpreted debauchery that we have been told is the work of R.F. Is it necessary to destroy ourselves for the things that we desire? Why do I have to be symbolic of an Irish dome of the rock? (have you ever touched the rock?) (has anyone?) I am tarot prophetic in my loathing of our distorted level. I am chronic mime gestures on the West Banks of the Jordan. We are rouge lipstick smeared across blue collars and twisted pretzels lounging citrus grove clean and sad. I am just a man. We are just people. The buildings are just Lego's we have crushed and spent combating azure tides to stand ourselves straight against that last wall... but I love you still, despite.

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Sep 29, 2013

Sep 29, 2013 at 12:50 AM UTC

Our lives are a Jenga masterpiece, a collage of self-interpreted debauchery that we have been told is the work of R.F. Is it necessary to destroy ourselves for the things that we desire? Why do I have to be symbolic of an Irish dome of the rock? (have you ever touched the rock?) (has anyone?) I am tarot prophetic in my loathing of our distorted level. I am chronic mime gestures on the West Banks of the Jordan. We are rouge lipstick smeared across blue collars and twisted pretzels lounging citrus grove clean and sad. I am just a man. We are just people. The buildings are just Lego's we have crushed and spent combating azure tides to stand ourselves straight against that last wall... but I love you still, despite.

Continue reading...

Is there room for context at this table? We can move some dishes and shuffle chairs. I’ve checked all four legs and they seem stable, but choosing a placemat is like splitting hairs. I notice the candle’s flame is getting dim, and my fingers pirouette in the puddles of wax, my hair needs a cut but I settled for a trim, and I’m donating my salary and spending my tax. I’ve told you every thought in my head, except the ones that matter the most, the facts that scald my cheeks to red, now they’re burning up like charred toast. I’d promise you whatever you ask for, and I’d drag myself to deliver each time, but I’m ignoring the truth at my core, and I’m confessing to you in mime. Sit across from me with crossed legs, see magnets becomes our eyes, “come closer together” both begs, but we’re determined and polarized. There’s no world existing around us, and there certainly is no group, you listen while I ramble and make a fuss, over the death of Lipton’s Alligator Soup. We turned Heaven into a Hell, we took a skeleton and made a shell, We dragged our nails down the walls scribbled ephiphanies on bathroom stalls, and silenced a story we could never tell. And all the things that have driven us apart, in truth have only made us stronger. and my love you are actually my heart, I won’t question it’s beating any longer. If you’re stuck with a choice you should flip a coin in the air, then listen to your mind’s voice, ‘cause your answer will be there. When it comes to heads or tails, you already know your favourite side, you’ll pray for it as the coin sails, ignore the outcome but absorb the ride.

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Jan 13, 2019

Jan 13, 2019 at 12:10 PM UTC

The Lion & The Rose

Is there room for context at this table? We can move some dishes and shuffle chairs. I’ve checked all four legs and they seem stable, but choosing a placemat is like splitting hairs. I notice the candle’s flame is getting dim, and my fingers pirouette in the puddles of wax, my hair needs a cut but I settled for a trim, and I’m donating my salary and spending my tax. I’ve told you every thought in my head, except the ones that matter the most, the facts that scald my cheeks to red, now they’re burning up like charred toast. I’d promise you whatever you ask for, and I’d drag myself to deliver each time, but I’m ignoring the truth at my core, and I’m confessing to you in mime. Sit across from me with crossed legs, see magnets becomes our eyes, “come closer together” both begs, but we’re determined and polarized. There’s no world existing around us, and there certainly is no group, you listen while I ramble and make a fuss, over the death of Lipton’s Alligator Soup. We turned Heaven into a Hell, we took a skeleton and made a shell, We dragged our nails down the walls scribbled ephiphanies on bathroom stalls, and silenced a story we could never tell. And all the things that have driven us apart, in truth have only made us stronger. and my love you are actually my heart, I won’t question it’s beating any longer. If you’re stuck with a choice you should flip a coin in the air, then listen to your mind’s voice, ‘cause your answer will be there. When it comes to heads or tails, you already know your favourite side, you’ll pray for it as the coin sails, ignore the outcome but absorb the ride.

Continue reading...

My gorilla wears tennis shoes He reads the paper and sings the blues My gorilla, my gorilla My gorilla, he's a sensitive guy I took him out for a wedding, and man did he cry! Tears all down his tie Well, he can drive most greens from the back tees But his putting brings him to his knees My gorilla, my gorilla My gorilla loves pork and beans He rides a scooter in his cut-off jeans My gorilla, my gorilla He can make a mean souffle He's great with omelets, but his specialty is flambe So I eat one every day! He's been working hard on a half pike But his cannonball empties the pool My gorilla, my gorilla My gorilla is so much fun He buys taquitos for everyone My gorilla, my gorilla My gorilla loves tequila with lime He's taking classes at a school for mime Cracks me up every time! Well, he's looking cool in his "white face" And his French beret looks oh so fine My gorilla, my gorilla Oh yeah...

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Jan 21, 2013

Jan 21, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC

My gorilla wears tennis shoes He reads the paper and sings the blues My gorilla, my gorilla My gorilla, he's a sensitive guy I took him out for a wedding, and man did he cry! Tears all down his tie Well, he can drive most greens from the back tees But his putting brings him to his knees My gorilla, my gorilla My gorilla loves pork and beans He rides a scooter in his cut-off jeans My gorilla, my gorilla He can make a mean souffle He's great with omelets, but his specialty is flambe So I eat one every day! He's been working hard on a half pike But his cannonball empties the pool My gorilla, my gorilla My gorilla is so much fun He buys taquitos for everyone My gorilla, my gorilla My gorilla loves tequila with lime He's taking classes at a school for mime Cracks me up every time! Well, he's looking cool in his "white face" And his French beret looks oh so fine My gorilla, my gorilla Oh yeah...

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I once almost cursed the final performance of a wonderful play I had the fortune of being a part of it The play was Romeo and Juliet on Verona Street Set in the 1930’s I didn’t do anything important Carried two bodies Got in a fight Smuggled some beer Called a mob boss Delivered a package and Investigated two dead bodies in mime but waiting on my final role during the final performance of this oh so wonderful production I reached out to a friend of mine (his name was Paul but he played the Prince) and told him “I’d love to direct MacBeth” He did a double-take Asked me what I said I said again “I’d love to direct MacBeth” “You mean the Scottish Tragedy?” I held my mouth in shock I knew better That name was cursed Paul told me all was not lost there was a way to reverse the curse just listen close he said Take your fingers in a peace sign Spit between them Swear (I said “son of a ***** Turn around one, two, three times Then leave the dressing room And come back I did all and Paul was relieved but Romeo chimed in “well you know we have to circumcise you right?” Paul added “Yeah, with a Claymore!” Don’t ever wish me luck, I might break my leg! I still want to direct MacBeth and to show I’m serious I even bought the script! All that’s left is to get a stage, and some money, and some actors and maybe some talent to go with my almost obnoxious amount of luck

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May 3, 2010

May 3, 2010 at 5:13 PM UTC

The Curse of MacBeth

I once almost cursed the final performance of a wonderful play I had the fortune of being a part of it The play was Romeo and Juliet on Verona Street Set in the 1930’s I didn’t do anything important Carried two bodies Got in a fight Smuggled some beer Called a mob boss Delivered a package and Investigated two dead bodies in mime but waiting on my final role during the final performance of this oh so wonderful production I reached out to a friend of mine (his name was Paul but he played the Prince) and told him “I’d love to direct MacBeth” He did a double-take Asked me what I said I said again “I’d love to direct MacBeth” “You mean the Scottish Tragedy?” I held my mouth in shock I knew better That name was cursed Paul told me all was not lost there was a way to reverse the curse just listen close he said Take your fingers in a peace sign Spit between them Swear (I said “son of a ***** Turn around one, two, three times Then leave the dressing room And come back I did all and Paul was relieved but Romeo chimed in “well you know we have to circumcise you right?” Paul added “Yeah, with a Claymore!” Don’t ever wish me luck, I might break my leg! I still want to direct MacBeth and to show I’m serious I even bought the script! All that’s left is to get a stage, and some money, and some actors and maybe some talent to go with my almost obnoxious amount of luck

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Ash to mouth divide north and south east and west, shout with class of Scout let it out with griffin clout we here we out , hear me out — rhymes in time without silent shrines to mime cleared the crowd covered eyes and mouth over body desert shroud if vengeance is your business then from swords to plow en lakesh an eye for an eye binds the all to be blind but you can’t unsee the signs no thoughts unclouded by loss out the window I toss mosaic fragments that cost health and awesome sauce Nazareth gutted commandments by anarchy spelled disaster after culture massive ego it swell up the road ahead a pit depress the juncture so we spit the dirt divide just to touch the other from pup to wolf so many bites, a pitted puncture so much disfunct the fight till all be winded lungs sir you can run but from gamma ray you no hide passed a black hole wand inside a body died but it’s alright (it’s heaven sight till Zombie night ) animate dead necromantic black ring the rhythm of life and death a chronic swing the pendulum blade cross over cosmic skin consciousness draw out from within traced the win which wound round tat to skeleton a dusty tome bound and crafted man medicine subtracted by the head that spin in the sky and its happening, blessen-ings the miracle is mystery u cant guess it talking 3 eye see talking vip climb high as canopy walking so my shadow lands under me. ten toes touch to the dusty roads when toads appear throats close mighta had the Midas touch still the golden one was too much to flush you might live in Laos you my livid crowd you might live it now neva hit my limit how cause you live in now when you wake up proud timid mind plowed divid-dine fill the cloud insta crowd wowed this I vowed

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Sep 8, 2018

Sep 8, 2018 at 7:59 PM UTC

NȺƶȺɍɇŧħ FɍȺǥmɇnŧs

Ash to mouth divide north and south east and west, shout with class of Scout let it out with griffin clout we here we out , hear me out — rhymes in time without silent shrines to mime cleared the crowd covered eyes and mouth over body desert shroud if vengeance is your business then from swords to plow en lakesh an eye for an eye binds the all to be blind but you can’t unsee the signs no thoughts unclouded by loss out the window I toss mosaic fragments that cost health and awesome sauce Nazareth gutted commandments by anarchy spelled disaster after culture massive ego it swell up the road ahead a pit depress the juncture so we spit the dirt divide just to touch the other from pup to wolf so many bites, a pitted puncture so much disfunct the fight till all be winded lungs sir you can run but from gamma ray you no hide passed a black hole wand inside a body died but it’s alright (it’s heaven sight till Zombie night ) animate dead necromantic black ring the rhythm of life and death a chronic swing the pendulum blade cross over cosmic skin consciousness draw out from within traced the win which wound round tat to skeleton a dusty tome bound and crafted man medicine subtracted by the head that spin in the sky and its happening, blessen-ings the miracle is mystery u cant guess it talking 3 eye see talking vip climb high as canopy walking so my shadow lands under me. ten toes touch to the dusty roads when toads appear throats close mighta had the Midas touch still the golden one was too much to flush you might live in Laos you my livid crowd you might live it now neva hit my limit how cause you live in now when you wake up proud timid mind plowed divid-dine fill the cloud insta crowd wowed this I vowed

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We are absurd You and I Fragments We have created a fermentative reality, Where words are symbols of relation That you and I falsify And Bingo was his name-o! Ah! Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon What do you mean? And how shall we bargain? And mora is but a half step to a whole Eek gad! January Febuary March and April May I introduce you to June and July August, Sept Oct Nov Dec Randomly systemized organs organized Abstract or… dissonant? But who is in charge? 12345 12345678 12345 12345678 12344 12344556 12344 12344556 “Why so serious?” said The Riddler Mellow dramatic Melodrama Melancholy Pantomimes! Pantomimes EVERYWHERE! They are able to speak But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?” Together we fall! United I stand. Backwards Upside down Inside out And grammar What’s in a name? Please don’t be lame Sarcastic and the glamour Synonymous nonsense Homophones and nyms Where are the polysemes? In the antonyms In the antonyms! Repitition Exclamation Annunciation tions… verbage verbage verbage syllables and such meaningless meaning defining definitions with such True or False? Hide and Seek Ring around the rosy We all fall down… We all fall down. Black hat, white shoes, and I’m red all over. Salt Sour And bitter And dill And And And And And And Ampersand Institutionalized poetry But I am for rhythmic prose! No, not you Listen to the hue that the colors protrude red green blue red green blue Black is not a color Chrome is my favorite I will not believe otherwise You are an alien. I have divided by zero Musical dissonance *(asterisk) A beautiful disaster A shadow without its owner Wild natured wilderness And naturally a wildcard. **** **** **** **** **** Etcetera.

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Sep 15, 2012

Sep 15, 2012 at 7:08 AM UTC

Sermon Monsieur

We are absurd You and I Fragments We have created a fermentative reality, Where words are symbols of relation That you and I falsify And Bingo was his name-o! Ah! Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon What do you mean? And how shall we bargain? And mora is but a half step to a whole Eek gad! January Febuary March and April May I introduce you to June and July August, Sept Oct Nov Dec Randomly systemized organs organized Abstract or… dissonant? But who is in charge? 12345 12345678 12345 12345678 12344 12344556 12344 12344556 “Why so serious?” said The Riddler Mellow dramatic Melodrama Melancholy Pantomimes! Pantomimes EVERYWHERE! They are able to speak But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?” Together we fall! United I stand. Backwards Upside down Inside out And grammar What’s in a name? Please don’t be lame Sarcastic and the glamour Synonymous nonsense Homophones and nyms Where are the polysemes? In the antonyms In the antonyms! Repitition Exclamation Annunciation tions… verbage verbage verbage syllables and such meaningless meaning defining definitions with such True or False? Hide and Seek Ring around the rosy We all fall down… We all fall down. Black hat, white shoes, and I’m red all over. Salt Sour And bitter And dill And And And And And And Ampersand Institutionalized poetry But I am for rhythmic prose! No, not you Listen to the hue that the colors protrude red green blue red green blue Black is not a color Chrome is my favorite I will not believe otherwise You are an alien. I have divided by zero Musical dissonance *(asterisk) A beautiful disaster A shadow without its owner Wild natured wilderness And naturally a wildcard. **** **** **** **** **** Etcetera.

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I’m sick And I’m tired I’m eating my words As they dance on my tongue Making me squirm as they turn Oh I’m biting I’m chewing Simply swallowing my pride For I can’t say how I feel No matter how hard I’ve tried For they pin me They ***** me Puncturing my mind As I sit here and silence Muted like a mime I can’t say it I fear it The version that you’ll see If I emit all of these feelings My caged memories For they haunt me They taunt me Like a stained porcelain tub You can’t rid it of residue No matter how hard you scrub That’s my mind They’re my eyes Tinted a light shade of blue As eroded as these beaches I’m drowning from you Your fingers They’ve grabbed me Now bruising my soul How can one escape from your grasp- I just long to feel whole For it was physical Now emotional Unsure which one is worse See these flashbacks you’ve gifted me Were your most vicious curse Alysia Marie 2018 ©

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Dec 22, 2018

Dec 22, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC

I’m sick And I’m tired I’m eating my words As they dance on my tongue Making me squirm as they turn Oh I’m biting I’m chewing Simply swallowing my pride For I can’t say how I feel No matter how hard I’ve tried For they pin me They ***** me Puncturing my mind As I sit here and silence Muted like a mime I can’t say it I fear it The version that you’ll see If I emit all of these feelings My caged memories For they haunt me They taunt me Like a stained porcelain tub You can’t rid it of residue No matter how hard you scrub That’s my mind They’re my eyes Tinted a light shade of blue As eroded as these beaches I’m drowning from you Your fingers They’ve grabbed me Now bruising my soul How can one escape from your grasp- I just long to feel whole For it was physical Now emotional Unsure which one is worse See these flashbacks you’ve gifted me Were your most vicious curse Alysia Marie 2018 ©

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in the mood for rhyme hands smell of thyme and thought is a mime I'm searching for a chime this love is playtime

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Sep 11, 2025

Sep 11, 2025 at 12:20 PM UTC

in the mood for rhyme hands smell of thyme and thought is a mime I'm searching for a chime this love is playtime

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A whole new spiral, Trees upon a coil, Ink from leagues, Written feathers, Drizzled down as oil, Evermore, Nevermore, Less is more, All. Reverse inside-out, Springs before fall, Trojan powered horses, Mother Nature's fickle, In life we really are all, Trapped within a pickle... Steal the base, Capture the flag, Always run the risk, Chess played on a checker board, Hands turned into fists... The endless stairs, Rise & fall, Chutes & ladders, Poles, Elevated, Reciprocated, Orbital magnetic pull... This way, That way, Three rights make a left, Two of either, Horizontal shift, Four times, Stuck in circles... Full Moon, Half Moon, Crescent Moon, **** cheeks... Face cheeks, Two lips, Uranus, **** facts... The Owl asks "Who?" Not how many licks, Cracked. Tongue twister, Riddle fister, ******* fcking dcks... Creation. Destruction. Under construction, Living life, Chasing death, Don't forget to function... Playing hooky, Hooked on phonics, Telephone, Hello? Lose the "O", Cheerios, Rolled away, Hell. Pacific Bell, Pack Bell, Liberty Bell, Cracked. Xs, Os, Hugs, Kisses, Followed crumbs, Smacked... Cacophony of words, Magnified to deaf, Pantomime, Mr. Mime, Jynx, Hypnotic crest... Abra, Kadabra, Apply directly to the forehead... Water your brain, Fertilize, Extra fries, Exercise... A to Z, 1, 2, 3... F*cking A, We say... Today is here, The end is near, All come here to stay... Escape rope untethered, Weather altered sky day. Gaze at stars, Hollywood floor, Rich, Poor, More... Life is great, Life is crap, You decide, Not me... Cause all I see, Is cacophony... No sense inside of "we"... Here we are, We've come so far, RELAX... Have fun at last... Half full, Half empty, Shattered... At least we have the glass......

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Sep 1, 2018

Sep 1, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC

Cacophony of words

A whole new spiral, Trees upon a coil, Ink from leagues, Written feathers, Drizzled down as oil, Evermore, Nevermore, Less is more, All. Reverse inside-out, Springs before fall, Trojan powered horses, Mother Nature's fickle, In life we really are all, Trapped within a pickle... Steal the base, Capture the flag, Always run the risk, Chess played on a checker board, Hands turned into fists... The endless stairs, Rise & fall, Chutes & ladders, Poles, Elevated, Reciprocated, Orbital magnetic pull... This way, That way, Three rights make a left, Two of either, Horizontal shift, Four times, Stuck in circles... Full Moon, Half Moon, Crescent Moon, **** cheeks... Face cheeks, Two lips, Uranus, **** facts... The Owl asks "Who?" Not how many licks, Cracked. Tongue twister, Riddle fister, ******* fcking dcks... Creation. Destruction. Under construction, Living life, Chasing death, Don't forget to function... Playing hooky, Hooked on phonics, Telephone, Hello? Lose the "O", Cheerios, Rolled away, Hell. Pacific Bell, Pack Bell, Liberty Bell, Cracked. Xs, Os, Hugs, Kisses, Followed crumbs, Smacked... Cacophony of words, Magnified to deaf, Pantomime, Mr. Mime, Jynx, Hypnotic crest... Abra, Kadabra, Apply directly to the forehead... Water your brain, Fertilize, Extra fries, Exercise... A to Z, 1, 2, 3... F*cking A, We say... Today is here, The end is near, All come here to stay... Escape rope untethered, Weather altered sky day. Gaze at stars, Hollywood floor, Rich, Poor, More... Life is great, Life is crap, You decide, Not me... Cause all I see, Is cacophony... No sense inside of "we"... Here we are, We've come so far, RELAX... Have fun at last... Half full, Half empty, Shattered... At least we have the glass......

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We are absurd You and I Fragments We have created a figmentative reality, where words are symbols of relation that you and I falsify And Bingo was his name-o! Ah! Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon What do you mean? and how shall we bargain? And mora is but a half step to a whole Eek gad! January Febuary March and April May I introduce you to June and July August 28th Sept Oct Nov Dec Randomly systemized organs organized Abstract or… dissonant? But who is in charge? 12345 12345678 12345 12345678 12344 12344556 12344 12344556 “Why so serious?” said The Riddler Mellow dramatic Melodrama Melancholy Pantomimes! Pantomimes EVERYWHERE! They are able to speak But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?” Together we fall! United I stand. Backwards Upside down Inside out And grammar What’s in a name? Please don’t be lame Sarcastic and the glamour Synonymous nonsense Homophones and nyms Where are the polysemes? In the antonyms In the antonyms! Repetition Exclamation Annunciation tions… verbage verbage verbage syllables and such meaningless meaning defining definitions with such True or False? Hide and Seek Ring around the rosy We all fall down… We all fall down. Salt Sour And bitter And dill And And And And And And Ampersand Institutionalized poetry But I am for rhythmic prose! No, not you Listen to the hue that the colors protrude red green blue red green blue Black is not a color Chrome is my favorite I will not believe otherwise You are an alien. I have divided by zero Musical dissonance Asterisk* A beautiful disaster A shadow without its owner Wild natured wilderness And naturally a wildcard. **** **** **** **** **** Etcetera.

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Sep 19, 2012

Sep 19, 2012 at 12:26 AM UTC

Sermon Monsieur

We are absurd You and I Fragments We have created a figmentative reality, where words are symbols of relation that you and I falsify And Bingo was his name-o! Ah! Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon What do you mean? and how shall we bargain? And mora is but a half step to a whole Eek gad! January Febuary March and April May I introduce you to June and July August 28th Sept Oct Nov Dec Randomly systemized organs organized Abstract or… dissonant? But who is in charge? 12345 12345678 12345 12345678 12344 12344556 12344 12344556 “Why so serious?” said The Riddler Mellow dramatic Melodrama Melancholy Pantomimes! Pantomimes EVERYWHERE! They are able to speak But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?” Together we fall! United I stand. Backwards Upside down Inside out And grammar What’s in a name? Please don’t be lame Sarcastic and the glamour Synonymous nonsense Homophones and nyms Where are the polysemes? In the antonyms In the antonyms! Repetition Exclamation Annunciation tions… verbage verbage verbage syllables and such meaningless meaning defining definitions with such True or False? Hide and Seek Ring around the rosy We all fall down… We all fall down. Salt Sour And bitter And dill And And And And And And Ampersand Institutionalized poetry But I am for rhythmic prose! No, not you Listen to the hue that the colors protrude red green blue red green blue Black is not a color Chrome is my favorite I will not believe otherwise You are an alien. I have divided by zero Musical dissonance Asterisk* A beautiful disaster A shadow without its owner Wild natured wilderness And naturally a wildcard. **** **** **** **** **** Etcetera.

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Being attacked En masse by zubat Oh excuse me I meant Woobat Send out my Rapidash Its a pity it knows flash I leave a trail of Pokes behind This is what happens when you grind Saving up for an expert belt with a buckle So i can give it to my shuckle I run into a snorlax Its ok i relax I have 99 ultra ***** And one good Stalls Catch him in no time Ran into a female Mister Mime Freaked out i back up into little caterpie But I already have a butterfree Spray some repel Avoid the weepingbell Make it back to pallet town Gary and i ready to throw down

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Mar 16, 2011

Mar 16, 2011 at 1:12 PM UTC

patrick-mccombs-1

A Pokemon Poem.

Being attacked En masse by zubat Oh excuse me I meant Woobat Send out my Rapidash Its a pity it knows flash I leave a trail of Pokes behind This is what happens when you grind Saving up for an expert belt with a buckle So i can give it to my shuckle I run into a snorlax Its ok i relax I have 99 ultra ***** And one good Stalls Catch him in no time Ran into a female Mister Mime Freaked out i back up into little caterpie But I already have a butterfree Spray some repel Avoid the weepingbell Make it back to pallet town Gary and i ready to throw down

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Picture a late afternoon iridescent honey-yellow: The glance she knows is seen her cool hand placed in yours your stripped shirt she rips, her mouthing, “You’re it!”, hiding, revealing herself stripped, her finger tipped shh, the brush of ******* surrender and assent. She'll rise with a rustle of desiccated pines, needles will fall from her back, she'll crumple a cigarette pack, humming a vacant lament, fingers caressing a fossil flea embalmed in a dangling pendant. Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks

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Aug 27, 2018

Aug 27, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC

AMBER'S FAREWELL SOLILOQUY IN MIME

Picture a late afternoon iridescent honey-yellow: The glance she knows is seen her cool hand placed in yours your stripped shirt she rips, her mouthing, “You’re it!”, hiding, revealing herself stripped, her finger tipped shh, the brush of ******* surrender and assent. She'll rise with a rustle of desiccated pines, needles will fall from her back, she'll crumple a cigarette pack, humming a vacant lament, fingers caressing a fossil flea embalmed in a dangling pendant. Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks

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"Dawn" I wonder where the prayers went...after years spent sitting in the darkness looking for a change that never came...it never came...and... Where Is My Diamoonnnd!!!!??? All I Have is coal... And why.... Why can't I have 3 wishes at least?... Because change never came...it never came... Only the Storm remained. But when being present was a requirement, there transpired a lucid calm... Mmm... If only it could be grasped like bed sheets the night the Storm was conceived... Oh I wish those knees could have been broken!!!... So they wouldn't have opened to receive...seed...or conceive... Forgive me.. I pray for a mime to be a fly on the wall of these thoughts!! I pray the clouds part so the sun can shine and you find rest.. Because.... Everything's better when you are asleep... Suffering through your Own nightmares... What happened to the maternal instinct purposed to protect you, nurture you to a point of functionality? Is there such thing as functional with you?... Or Did you wear out your place of origin to where you're no longer sought for or welcomed? Was it a joy to desert such a never ending storm? Is there no remorse? Not for your abandonment...but for society... No thought for the trail of derailed strangers who will never forget the name of the tornadic soul who impacted them tragically...? Tragic.... Your calms last long enough to fall in love with the beauty in between..and it is so beautiful. But... Not long enough to prepare for your next season...and... Why..... Why won't you learn to warn your lovers? So they may brace for... Dawn... Oh... But...wait... Look... The sun... The sun is coming... The heavens still love me... So... Since the sun is out, I love you... Sweet dreams. ~Say Dat~

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Apr 15, 2020

Apr 15, 2020 at 11:48 PM UTC

"Dawn" I wonder where the prayers went...after years spent sitting in the darkness looking for a change that never came...it never came...and... Where Is My Diamoonnnd!!!!??? All I Have is coal... And why.... Why can't I have 3 wishes at least?... Because change never came...it never came... Only the Storm remained. But when being present was a requirement, there transpired a lucid calm... Mmm... If only it could be grasped like bed sheets the night the Storm was conceived... Oh I wish those knees could have been broken!!!... So they wouldn't have opened to receive...seed...or conceive... Forgive me.. I pray for a mime to be a fly on the wall of these thoughts!! I pray the clouds part so the sun can shine and you find rest.. Because.... Everything's better when you are asleep... Suffering through your Own nightmares... What happened to the maternal instinct purposed to protect you, nurture you to a point of functionality? Is there such thing as functional with you?... Or Did you wear out your place of origin to where you're no longer sought for or welcomed? Was it a joy to desert such a never ending storm? Is there no remorse? Not for your abandonment...but for society... No thought for the trail of derailed strangers who will never forget the name of the tornadic soul who impacted them tragically...? Tragic.... Your calms last long enough to fall in love with the beauty in between..and it is so beautiful. But... Not long enough to prepare for your next season...and... Why..... Why won't you learn to warn your lovers? So they may brace for... Dawn... Oh... But...wait... Look... The sun... The sun is coming... The heavens still love me... So... Since the sun is out, I love you... Sweet dreams. ~Say Dat~

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Letters jumping off the page Not like normal words that stay in place I close my eyes and hold the tears And just pretend that I'm not here Stupid is the word they used Cause the letters I see wouldn't fuse They laughed cause they didn't know the pain Of seeing words and not knowing their name Writing down things that never looked right Seeing failure in near sight I stopped to even try Not seeing how dyslexia could give me pride Confusion growing in my head like vines So I just sit and act like a mime Tears starting to to brim my eyes I shut down and begin to cry How can dyslexia give me pride?

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Jul 10, 2014

Jul 10, 2014 at 5:35 AM UTC

Letters jumping off the page Not like normal words that stay in place I close my eyes and hold the tears And just pretend that I'm not here Stupid is the word they used Cause the letters I see wouldn't fuse They laughed cause they didn't know the pain Of seeing words and not knowing their name Writing down things that never looked right Seeing failure in near sight I stopped to even try Not seeing how dyslexia could give me pride Confusion growing in my head like vines So I just sit and act like a mime Tears starting to to brim my eyes I shut down and begin to cry How can dyslexia give me pride?

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the mime made to put it in my mouth. but the wind picked up. it was three blocks suspended before the backside of a fan pulled it from the street and into a pawn shop. it dropped to the floor. all very dramatic said some clown to another. said the other to his white hand always putting it on.

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Aug 10, 2012

Aug 10, 2012 at 11:41 AM UTC

aesthetic canon

the mime made to put it in my mouth. but the wind picked up. it was three blocks suspended before the backside of a fan pulled it from the street and into a pawn shop. it dropped to the floor. all very dramatic said some clown to another. said the other to his white hand always putting it on.

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seductive effective cutlass sadistic serendipity and la la la licorice liquor lick her and plastic roses rise relentless resentment time mime rhyme desire sentiment sincerely aspire admire anonymous synonymous simultaneous symmetry molasses disastrous syntactic mirrorly Samir sincere severe severe la la la love na na na never samirly this way suicide sinister cynical silence stop and stare care and share love with or without violence sloppy seconds menace a menace minus a life structure dependence relevance relevance irrelevance sense tense and meaninglessness sincerely samirly synthetic systemic sense cents cents sense sense cents

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Sep 19, 2012

Sep 19, 2012 at 12:23 AM UTC

seductive effective cutlass sadistic serendipity and la la la licorice liquor lick her and plastic roses rise relentless resentment time mime rhyme desire sentiment sincerely aspire admire anonymous synonymous simultaneous symmetry molasses disastrous syntactic mirrorly Samir sincere severe severe la la la love na na na never samirly this way suicide sinister cynical silence stop and stare care and share love with or without violence sloppy seconds menace a menace minus a life structure dependence relevance relevance irrelevance sense tense and meaninglessness sincerely samirly synthetic systemic sense cents cents sense sense cents

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When I was younger, my biggest desire was to travel. Dreaming of swimming with dolphins in the Amazon River. Dreaming of floating away to the Niagara Falls. Dreaming of running all of the United States. Dreaming bigger dreams than Martin Luther King, Jr could ever. Maybe even go away in a hot air balloon until boredom struck. See the highest peaks of the Earth, maybe until I’ve reached the gates of Heaven. Have brunch with the President of the United States, or with a beggar I come across with on my journeys. When I was younger, my wishes were beyond my reach God’s angels seemed closer than my dreams could ever be. And so, I made contact with one of God’s angels, as I floated on the cloud of my imagination. This angel had brown eyes; hair fell perfectly every time Perfection came to this angel without ever trying. I fell for this angel faster than Lucifer fell from the glory of God, it was so unplanned and perfect. Unplanned and perfect. That was this angel’s method to everything in life: Unplanned. Perfect. Everything he did was unplanned and perfect. It was… spontaneous. He was spontaneous. He was perfect. The way he didn’t think about anything too much, and just did everything. Only thinking about things twice – or so it seemed. The way he didn’t have a planning sheet for life, he just wrote whatever came to his mind, like me. Except he didn’t write, he acted upon his thoughts. I literally write everything that comes to mind. But this angel? He acted. The finest actor that ever descended from Heaven. Now, the perfection of his beauty leaves me speechless every time, making me a mime of some sort. The perfection of his beauty is marvelous, I just don’t know how to put it into words. All I can say is that, with this angel I’ve fallen for, I am somehow satisfied. Somehow, all the dreams I’ve been yearning for so long are brought to life at last. The words he speaks flow perfectly - I promise you, I could swim in them. The ease of his tone makes me feel like I’m swimming in the Niagara Falls. Oh, and that laugh is so sweet and just as cute as the dolphins in that Amazon River I had wished to swim with. He makes me feel like I’m running more than just the United States of America. This amazing angel gives me an adrenaline rush… I could run miles and miles. To him. To hug him. To kiss him. To get high off of his touch and feel oblivious. God sent me the best transportation to the Gates of Heaven. And this transportation is the most spontaneous and perfect. This spontaneous piece of perfection is the best adventure, and I’m so ready to have brunch every day with that marvelous angel God sent.

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Jun 21, 2015

Jun 21, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC

When I was younger, my biggest desire was to travel. Dreaming of swimming with dolphins in the Amazon River. Dreaming of floating away to the Niagara Falls. Dreaming of running all of the United States. Dreaming bigger dreams than Martin Luther King, Jr could ever. Maybe even go away in a hot air balloon until boredom struck. See the highest peaks of the Earth, maybe until I’ve reached the gates of Heaven. Have brunch with the President of the United States, or with a beggar I come across with on my journeys. When I was younger, my wishes were beyond my reach God’s angels seemed closer than my dreams could ever be. And so, I made contact with one of God’s angels, as I floated on the cloud of my imagination. This angel had brown eyes; hair fell perfectly every time Perfection came to this angel without ever trying. I fell for this angel faster than Lucifer fell from the glory of God, it was so unplanned and perfect. Unplanned and perfect. That was this angel’s method to everything in life: Unplanned. Perfect. Everything he did was unplanned and perfect. It was… spontaneous. He was spontaneous. He was perfect. The way he didn’t think about anything too much, and just did everything. Only thinking about things twice – or so it seemed. The way he didn’t have a planning sheet for life, he just wrote whatever came to his mind, like me. Except he didn’t write, he acted upon his thoughts. I literally write everything that comes to mind. But this angel? He acted. The finest actor that ever descended from Heaven. Now, the perfection of his beauty leaves me speechless every time, making me a mime of some sort. The perfection of his beauty is marvelous, I just don’t know how to put it into words. All I can say is that, with this angel I’ve fallen for, I am somehow satisfied. Somehow, all the dreams I’ve been yearning for so long are brought to life at last. The words he speaks flow perfectly - I promise you, I could swim in them. The ease of his tone makes me feel like I’m swimming in the Niagara Falls. Oh, and that laugh is so sweet and just as cute as the dolphins in that Amazon River I had wished to swim with. He makes me feel like I’m running more than just the United States of America. This amazing angel gives me an adrenaline rush… I could run miles and miles. To him. To hug him. To kiss him. To get high off of his touch and feel oblivious. God sent me the best transportation to the Gates of Heaven. And this transportation is the most spontaneous and perfect. This spontaneous piece of perfection is the best adventure, and I’m so ready to have brunch every day with that marvelous angel God sent.

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he stood before them lifted his flute to his lips soulfully inhaled they waited for the magic he played not a single note he stood there as if ********* passionately with body english the crowd paused for a minute suspended in the quand'ry the light bulb came on and they busted up laughing as he continued in his silent happiness he loved the "gotcha" moment Del Maximo © June 13, 2009

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Feb 15, 2010

Feb 15, 2010 at 5:57 PM UTC

he stood before them lifted his flute to his lips soulfully inhaled they waited for the magic he played not a single note he stood there as if ********* passionately with body english the crowd paused for a minute suspended in the quand'ry the light bulb came on and they busted up laughing as he continued in his silent happiness he loved the "gotcha" moment Del Maximo © June 13, 2009

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The King of the World is on his way now, he always shows up when the chips are down. Everyone just loves The King of the World, he always arrives with his banners unfurled. The King can be a loud chap, or The King can be quite a quiet mime, he even puts his pants on one royal leg at a time! The King might eat breakfast, or The King just might not, he is everything you are, yet is is all that you forgot. He's a musician of sorts, with a very big band, his arrival is in herald, throughout every land -with brass trumpets a-blare, and snare-drums rat-a-tat, he makes everyone aware, that he's now where you're at! The King marches his forces through the cities and fields, assure of his courses, lying flat beneath his heel. He revels at the sight of deterioration, fills his belly with the joy of nations in extinction. The King grounds everything down to things he scrapes off his boots, he topples the governs and poisons the cultural roots. The King's fixations are splashed with spatters of blood, turning kingdoms into crumbles of ashes and mud. He bulldozes the bodies into toxic pits of **** contaminates by obscenity, wringing his hands at the wit. Lionized by his minions in the empty empires he wrought, The King's elite ruling class is dictated with rot. In the aftermath of the bile of his genocidal, sweet plight, The King celebrates with great style, turning the daylight into night. With bonfires a-blaze on the wicked, windy wasteland, The King of the World strikes up his big band, and once marching again will torch and ravish the land, dropping massive, beautiful bombs for the sake of the thrill, melting the people and villages and eroding the hills. The time for The King always is nigh, for he is surrounded by the conjurations of lies. Some say he is evil, (but, he's not the Devil, you see) -He's The King of the World, he is you, he is me.

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Sep 14, 2010

Sep 14, 2010 at 9:14 AM UTC

The King of the World

The King of the World is on his way now, he always shows up when the chips are down. Everyone just loves The King of the World, he always arrives with his banners unfurled. The King can be a loud chap, or The King can be quite a quiet mime, he even puts his pants on one royal leg at a time! The King might eat breakfast, or The King just might not, he is everything you are, yet is is all that you forgot. He's a musician of sorts, with a very big band, his arrival is in herald, throughout every land -with brass trumpets a-blare, and snare-drums rat-a-tat, he makes everyone aware, that he's now where you're at! The King marches his forces through the cities and fields, assure of his courses, lying flat beneath his heel. He revels at the sight of deterioration, fills his belly with the joy of nations in extinction. The King grounds everything down to things he scrapes off his boots, he topples the governs and poisons the cultural roots. The King's fixations are splashed with spatters of blood, turning kingdoms into crumbles of ashes and mud. He bulldozes the bodies into toxic pits of **** contaminates by obscenity, wringing his hands at the wit. Lionized by his minions in the empty empires he wrought, The King's elite ruling class is dictated with rot. In the aftermath of the bile of his genocidal, sweet plight, The King celebrates with great style, turning the daylight into night. With bonfires a-blaze on the wicked, windy wasteland, The King of the World strikes up his big band, and once marching again will torch and ravish the land, dropping massive, beautiful bombs for the sake of the thrill, melting the people and villages and eroding the hills. The time for The King always is nigh, for he is surrounded by the conjurations of lies. Some say he is evil, (but, he's not the Devil, you see) -He's The King of the World, he is you, he is me.

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Mime me a river Silver with salmon Running forever Clear, cold and free. Mime me a mountain High as Montana Headwater's fountain Top clad in snow. Mime me a meadow Lush green with lark Holding clouds' shadows Fast in her arms. Mime me a time When sweet sky was open And slow moon could climb Shine right through the breeze. Mime me a river Silver with salmon Running forever Clear, cold and free. r ~ 5/28/14

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May 28, 2014

May 28, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC

Mime me a river Silver with salmon Running forever Clear, cold and free. Mime me a mountain High as Montana Headwater's fountain Top clad in snow. Mime me a meadow Lush green with lark Holding clouds' shadows Fast in her arms. Mime me a time When sweet sky was open And slow moon could climb Shine right through the breeze. Mime me a river Silver with salmon Running forever Clear, cold and free. r ~ 5/28/14

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