"mommies" poems
Picketed, another generation pushing for advancement in the age of reason,
Logical, radical movement
Trying for less invasive measures of medication
To take the blinders off the prejudice of non-conformity and reach the masses
A promise to ease the pain, promote healing, the overall good
Met with violence, verbal slander, from mommies and daddies afraid of a world outside their white fence,
Fearing independence, the expansion of the mind, an openness in their youth to allow radical change.
The bloated belt bent backwards, white collar replaced by hedonistic practical libertarians in pursuit of happiness for all
Sick, disgusted with the man, the one behind the podium whom allows for this animosity on a group that did everything right, legally sound
Tired of hearing the whispers across a university, the hopeful gushing’s of elated individuals bright- eyes naive
Of a system that won’t allow something this controversial into the public, afraid to lose their hold on a potential capitol
On something that should be as easy to find in a free market as Captain Crunch, Coca-Cola, and Rice Krispy Treats.
Grinding down, fluffy-green-crystal bud
Dank yellow smoke smoldering out of pipes end, seeping out of closed lips billowing out of nostrils
Dragon fire down a throat coated with a week worth of soot, and experience
Choking, coughing, laughing away the misery
The disappointment in her fellow man to refuse to even consider the validity of a proven product
Knowing that if it was anything else a miracle drug composed of fairy dust, unicorn hair and the ***** of a thousand angels; approval would have been immediate.
Whip lash.
Flick, flame, fumigating
Baking myself into a calmer state, watching with ****** off grace
Twitching with the need to take action
To control this negative reaction, to slap the of face limp **** conservatives
So consumed with themselves, blind to the pain of people who have lost hope in other forms of relief
Alternative therapy shut off by a system obsessed with its war on drugs.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
Beneath the surface of the earth,
Beneath the green and sodden turf,
Wendy wombat, supreme digger
Raced to make her tunnels bigger,
Pulling dirt with mighty claws
And toiling hard without a pause
Ensconced within her little pouch,
So small they had no need to crouch,
Her children slept, all warm and dry,
As mud and dirt went flying by,
Quite unaware how nature planned
To lend them all a helping hand
For wombat pouches don't get full
Of dirt and mud as mommies pull,
For mother nature in her wisdom
Looked upon her magic kingdom,
Saw the wombats under ground
And wisely turned their pouches round!
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
#*Multitudes will be liberated by that recognition;
and although multitudes obtain liberation in that manner,
the number of sentient beings being great, evil karma powerful,
obscurations dense, propensities o too long standing,
the Wheel of Ignorance and Illusion becometh neither exhausted nor accelerated*.
The Tibetan Book of the Dead
translation: Lāma Kazi Dawa-Samdup
Free Tibet your sticker tells me…
Yes, I think, perhaps I should –
and the noble thought compels me,
uninformed, half-understood.
Will their freedom help my Karma?
Upgrade my reincarnation?
(Soul who could not dare to harm a
fly… much less a Buddhist nation.)
Not to justify aggression
by the ever-brutal Commies,
let us grant no glib concession
to the Maoists – or their mommies.
Slogans echo in the void,
shining in bardos of the dead;
stopped by the light, I am annoyed
impatient for the change from red.
A bumper crop of human woe
beams forth a mandate to my brain
while red Dakinis circle slow
in Buddhist hells of karmic pain.
The eastern concepts here diverge
and bow before brutality.
They make this driver long to merge
with incorporeality.
Then I glimpse a monkish fellow
swathed in saffron, calmly seated.
His, the cloud-borne sage’s pillow;
mine the traffic; stalled, defeated.
In his gaze of stern displeasure
I perceive the orient stars
calculating man’s mismeasure
trapped, exhausted, among the cars.
Flanked by Spirits wreathed in fire
he extends an accusing hand:
Western slave of base desire:
come and liberate my land !”
I meditate before the stop light:
am I ready for the task ?
Should I just refuse it outright
Can’t it be someone else ? I ask…
Must I free this mountain nation
from the Buddha, demons and Reds?
Shall your sticker’s declaration
shatter the yoke and raise their heads ?
Somebody ought to free Tibet,
and heed this Himalayan cry.
Maybe we should get upset…
The red light changes. Cars pass by,
predestined for benign events
and unconcerned for persecution;
oblivious to dissidents
awaiting execution.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
Sitting here watching you
sleep
Wondering if your dreams are
sweet
Knowing you'll always be mommies
baby boy
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
I love how people talk about how there parents are so mean
and how they hate there fathers and mommies
Those people wont survive a day
living as me
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
Long hikes and motorbikes,
Cabins, starlight, kids and tykes,
Parents, and mommies soon to be,
Gather at the greenest tree.
Spirits in ******* are unbound,
Where the silence drowns the sound;
The victories that love has won.
We are never far when we are one.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
Loons in the vineyard – sound the alarm !
Satan is milking his metaphors.
Such silly music portends no harm;
call home the cows and open your doors.
Brian Hugh Warner, a paleface freak
after finding his mom’s mascara
darker enlightenment did seek
and crowned himself with Baal’s tiara.
Scary drag-queen, scandalous, vain
Marilyn – the creepy thespian
rolled that fish-eye and snorted *******
like Crowley… how pedestrian.
Flashing his glowing cataract,
he gave the mommies quite a fright.
Censorship launched; no badder act
did sail (or assail) our sinking night.
Gothic dim-wits purchased CD’s
bought the goods, pierced parts, wore black.
(Cause for certain parents’ unease:
MTV’s Antichrist on the attack).
Son of Man – or rather, Manson
Milked to the max his demonic cow;
playing Satan’s naughty grandson
showing the flustered milk-maids how.
Urban legend surrounds this fowl
(those ribs removed – like Adam’s sin!)
Is he a misunderstood night owl –
or a has-been loon in a loony bin?
Rock-stars age (well, most) like a cheap wine.
or else in the way once-ripened grapes
withering, sun-struck, off the vine
transform, with age, into wizened shapes.
No – I am wrong. They age like prunes;
plums thus pass into their glory.
Even Luciferian loons
find lakes of fire at end of story.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:23 PM UTC
*The most broken people live on earth.
Not even a good poet and wont pretend to be.
I fell asleep at my desk reading boring poems in school.
I failed the test on how many stanza in a poem.
Writing about broke people makes me feel good.
It's a long *** poem so read it or not read it. Word up!*
Call me white boy playing black hipster like the broken record Miley.
I can't type twerk on my keyboard but turning all ghetto on y'all.
Lady done done all she can to shock and mess with our minds.
What she gone do next, buy a house in a black hood and live there?
That's messed up and so I'm dumb and I love attention.
I live in a big town population less than sixteen thousand.
We listed on the map as a god ****** city. Word up!
I need to be a hipster and I'm going hood on y'all.
In my hood I see houses needing fixing and painting.
Got a friend who lives in a trailer park
metal piece that goes around the bottom of his trailer
fell off and his pipes froze during that weather deep freeze.
He's renting that trailer that should be condemned
like most trailers in that park but who the **** cares?
He's got a roof over his head and he should be grateful
he ain't homeless like the rest of the trailer park dwellers.
Landlords don't give a **** they care about collecting rent.
We got men and women living on internet trolling Craigslist.
Most trolling hoping to find dates are married.
Single men and women seeking sugar daddies and mommies.
They are broken people.
I walk down streets and our old and newer malls.
Same weird *** people shop at both.
I see women yelling at kids with ****** diapers that smell bad.
One used the back of her hand to wipe a snot nose
then went back to talking and texting.
Women with babies at home meeting men they met on personals.
Good place to hide when they married or got men.
Leave the babies at home with sitters or family and find new men.
Hanging out at malls is a fake.
"Meet me at my pickup in a half hour and don't wear ******
Read that message on a burner cell I found at the new mall.
It's a burner so it don't need to be returned.
Read the rest and she is married and has more than one lover
she met off personals.
Work it girl and keep the sugar daddies coming!
How many broken moms who should not be moms exist?
There are too many broken people who exist.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
We held each other
like breaths under water,
day old infants in their mommies arms,
and dreams we never meant to wake from.
You touched me
like I was your instrument,
a texture you were testing to buy,
and a newly used pan after cooking breakfast.
I loved you
like my favorite tv show,
warm blankets on a subzero night,
and the tattoos I designed with you in mind.
There are no amount of
similes
I could say to express
how much I miss you,
yet here I am again
writing like an author
striving for a movie deal.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC
Eucalyptus filled air
Sheets of warm and cold air
Early tasmac drinkers
Weary eyed dads
Bye bye -ing mommies
Dung splattering cows
whipped pedigree dogs
Scared insects
Proud birds
Flowers with an attitude
The pig
A hero
Swarmed stinking
Dirtiest of them all
And a early morning feast
Charming brown eyed street dogs
Question marked trees
Washed pavements
Drooling men
Betel chewing glaring women
Girls in floral blouses sweeping
Sh -sh -sh -sh -sh
Autos rrrrrr
Shock absorbing nike shoes krr krr krrr krr
A cigarette ****
A sad memory
Pushed aside
By the brush of a hand
pushed to a remote corner
Hidden
another memory
a recent one
with a scaredy cat
Which i want to share and party with
Was vivid
Ornamented ladies
lighting lamps to a dead god
Guarded by vain priests
Obesience
and giving life
for people
Lost in hope and fear
A parallel existence
Corporates blaring into phones
Fit men playing tennis
Small sturdy grass
Petite flowers
Swaying and dancing
Everlasting
Everlasting ?
Is it a will or maybe or a should be ?
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
Stop mommies, stop daddies
I want to see the stars too,
And chase the lightening bugs like you.
Don’t **** the night,
With all of our lights.
Save it for me.
Don’t steal it with your new bought glee.
May we turn out our lights?
Maybe for just one night?
So that I can raise my eyes,
To the stars above,
And feel the magic and mystery,
The velvety black night brings,
For now,
And for all of eternity.
Now may we turn down our lights,
And turn some off too,
So that I can grow,
Under this star filled sky
Free from the glow,
For the rest of my life?
And my children’s
and their children’s too?
Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 6:23 PM UTC
Toes
A Thank Offering
Praise be to the Maker of toes.
Crunchy, munchy baby toes mommies nibble.
Wiggley, wonderful baby toes,
Splendiferous, greeting the world with sunbeams toes!
Thanks to Him for kiddie toes.
Tumbling, treading, running boy toes.
Greeting the day toes, grabbing the bases toes.
Wiggle in the tub toes.
All hail for girlie toes.
Ready to be a ballerina toes.
Jumping, giggling, big girl toes.
Tip-toeing in the night, jump-in-your-bed toes.
Give praise for almost-grown toes.
Boy-toe-touching-girl-toe toes,
All tingling, thrilling toes.
I know everything! toes.
Do not withhold thanks for grown-up toes
Hurry. Carry. Do. Stop. Go. toes.
Weary, Pushing, Grasping toes.
Reaching for another under the covers toes.
Glory to the Maker for older toes.
Adept at all concepts and gadgets toes.
Slower and wiser gnarly toes.
Surrounded by little feet toes.
Pure worship for ancient toes.
Lined, yellow, and ***** toes
Awaiting a clipping by those
Who kneel in worship of timeworn toes.
All praise, thanks, and worship
To the Maker of toes;
The One to whom all glory goes,
Who fills us with the joy of toes.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
When I say Zombies ate my neighbors, I'm not talking about a video game.
Zombies ate my neighbors and I'm one of the Zombies who is to blame.
Because my family and I are undead, it put us in very bad moods.
My family and I croaked because our neighbors poisoned our food.
A big corporation was going to pay top dollar for every house on the block.
But when my family and I refused to sell, the neighbors were angry and shocked.
I wouldn't sell the house that I've lived in since I was five.
And that is why my wife and kids and I did not survive.
Our neighbors had a barbecue and my family and I ate the food that they grilled.
But we wouldn't have touched the food if we had known that we would be killed.
My family and I have risen from the grave, we have green skin and are zombies.
When our neighbors saw us, they ****** their pants and cried for their mommies.
Our neighbors killed us because money was something they thought they'd gain.
When we had our homicidal neighbors for supper, we started with their brains.
Our greedy neighbors killed us and we returned the favor.
Stay away from my family and I because human flesh is what we savor.
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 12:49 PM UTC
I see you trying to play the badass
In a Japanese car, I would have to
Only laugh and say you ain't going far
So many ******* juveniles clamor for this and that
They only have to ask their mommies and daddies
For **** that their too lazy to do themselves
Get me this, get me that
I want this, I want that
Christmas comes and they get it
Because if they don't they'll throw a fit
A ******* disrespectful fit to their parents
No kid has any ******* respect anymore
What the **** happen to respect your elders
No, they would rather steal from them
And push them out in front of a bus
I say punish these kids
Take away everything the parents bought for them
Because they feel guilty they didn't grow up with
Much of anything. And if that doesn't work
Use the ******* belt on these ungrateful pukes
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC
In my house there is a cupboard
Full of VHS tapes
One of them is a recording of a news broadcast
On it I stand
Hospital gowned and smiling
Clowns are there on the terrace where it was filmed
Painting our faces
They all smile
I smile
The other kids smile
None of us over 4 feet
But balding
Black eyed and missing toothed
A clown takes my hand and begins to paint
It is cold
The paint
And the Terrace
I tell her how I want to run away with her
She smiles
Maybe
On camera
You can see my back through the open gown
The bones make me look like a brontosaurus
I turn to the camera
Remembering I was told never to smile with the paint on
or it will crack
The circles under my eyes are gone
My lips are red
My cheeks are tan
I look normal
Off camera
mommies and daddies are crying
Off camera
the clowns are crying
On camera
There is a terrace full of dying children
In a hospital
And we all looked normal
May 10, 2011
May 10, 2011 at 11:25 AM UTC
when i was a little girl
i thought my daddy hung the moon
he worked a lot
but i had the best daddy in the world
when i got a little older
i started to go to my friends' house to play
and i saw their daddies
their daddies were home every day and night
their daddies loved their mommies
their daddies had time for their little girls
but maybe
my daddy just worked a lot. . .
when i was barely a teen
my mommy died
a week later
my dad brought over a new mommy
(but daddy loved mommy)
my dad started telling me lies
(i don't think daddy lied to me..)
my dad has more time for his girlfriends than he does for me
(daddy's only girls were mommy and me)
in my last year of high school
my father left and bought a house
1,102 miles away
he still thinks he's daddy.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
A 15 year old girl with 3 ****** partners almost up to 4
Living without essentials because her family lives poor
Feeding in addiction while her body craves more
She's growing up too fast and she's doing it alone
She says she needs the drugs because she won't make it on her own
So she lights up that blunt and snorts some of that coke
As her body sub-misses to the drug she says softly "don't tell my folks"
Deeper and deeper she sinks into her own hellish abyss
As a child she never thought life could be like this
But she also thought daddies weren't supposed to hit mommies
And little girls were supposed to just play with their dollies
Instead of hiding from step-brothers with lust in their eyes
Just to be found in her room at night, awaiting a not so pleasant surprise
Her life has been nothing but bad days with dark skies
A 15 year old girl with 4 ****** partners almost up to 5
Married to *** pain and drugs
She makes a beautiful wife
Married to the death of love
She makes a beautiful wife
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 4:09 PM UTC
We live In an era,
Where our peers are our oppressors
And your judged as a person
By the contents of your dresser
We need to make a change now
Let's see if we can make it better
Walking through a school hall getting spat on
Cause you don't have the right jeans or ******* shirt on
These superficial glamor nazis don't know me
Looking down from there towers living on golden streets
Kids cry at night when they lay between the sheets
All they can think is "why? You don't even know me
All these kids obsessed with jays and they thread count
Looking at the outside and not what I'm about
It's sickening, they got a fashion addiction.
Living off of daddies money and mommies perscriptions
Yet they don't look in the mirror and see the cynical villain
That they turned out to be
Can't see the hypocrisy
And I'm honestly fed up
I grew up on cheap clothes but the best love
Maybe it's love those kids need a little more of
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 10:02 PM UTC
Her birthday is on the anniversary of the Boston Tea Party,
She love to garden and cook,
Guess you can blame that on her Italian heritage.
She has one tattoo I convinced her to get with me,
A humming bird on our right foot…
She has silver shinny hair,
And loves to scrapbook and take pictures where ever we go.
But most of all,
She’s my mother and my best friend.
She keeps all my little secrets,
And her ears are always ready to listen.
(Even when I talk them off)
Some of my happiest memories,
Are of being in her company.
Spa night’s with hair rapped up in a towel,
And nails painted, and laughs till bedtime.
Girls weekends at my apartment,
Sipping Blue Nun wine and watching “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”
But the thing that gets me most is,
She is and always will be there
When I feel no one else is.
When I first dealt with depression and bipolar,
I was scared, and I felt alone.
But she held me through every nightmare,
And dried every single tear,
Cause that’s what mommies do best.
And believe me when I say she should get
The mother of the year award,
Cause I may be adopted,
But when people ask me who my mom is,
I say her,
Cause she deserves that title more than anyone in the universe!
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
Oh shall we play space men today
and build a rocket Ted
we need two suits some gloves and boots
and helmets for our head
A packing crate stood tall and straight
dad's funnel placed on top
three books so thin each one a fin
and Mommies broken mop
A beanbag chair we two can share
and buttons we can push
some sandwiches and light switches
and cans of Orange crush
Some dials and springs and other things
we found in daddies shed
now that looks neat so take a seat
and start the countdown Ted
We watched the stars that once so far
where now within our grip
Count ten to one ignition on
Blast off in rocket ship
The silver moon would greet us soon
as upward we both sped
through clouds of white to black of night
just me and mister Ted
The rocket turned as thrusters burned
as we altered our course
for here you see the gravity
Had very little force
We journeyed forth toward the north
by meteor and star
as comets whizzed and pinged and fizzed
and flew both near and far
We passed the plough and saw a cow
jump clean over the moon
then stations manned prepared to land
beside a giant dune
Beneath our feet a silver sheet
of fallen stars and sand
and as we two took in the view
Ted held me by the hand
The solar breeze blew round our knees
and tickled as it passed
time now to go yes Ted I know
this day has gone so fast
seated inside we watched the tide
So slowly ebb and flow
then 10 to 1 zero and gone
we raced the mornings glow
home safe and sound we kissed the ground
and ran in for our tea
I turned to Ted and softly said
the moon just winked at me
What shall we be next time said he
cowboys or maybe kings
I do not know I whispered low
let's see what morning brings
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 9:14 PM UTC
You were hungry tonight at midnight
And woke me up out of a dead sleep
For the fifth time in a row,
But I got up and fed you,
And that’s okay,
Because that’s what Mommies do.
Today you started to walk
And thought I was crazy
Because I videoed you
And talked about how that
Big guy named Daddy,
Who’s been here since day one,
Wasn’t here to see.
And I was squealing
The whole time.
But that’s okay,
Because that’s what Mommies do.
Today you started to talk
And your first word was
“Ma-ma"
And I laughed and cried
But that’s okay,
Because that’s what Mommies do.
Then you learned how to ride a trike
And soon after that a bike.
You looked at me like I was nuts
After I said something about how
You were growing up too fast.
But that’s okay,
Because that’s what’s Mommies do.
When you are ten,
And you’re upset
Because you played kickball
And you were picked last,
I won’t tell you it’s no big deal,
Because Mommy knows just how you feel.
I’ll tell you it’s their loss,
But I know right now,
It feels like yours.
Then I’ll hug you and we’ll get icecream
And talk about how we’ve never liked kickball anyway,
And that’s okay,
Because that’s what Mommies do.
Today I told you
That’s it’s okay to be mad
And it’s okay to be sad.
But when you’re mad,
Count to ten and
When very mad one hundred,
Just like Jefferson said,
And don’t let anger
Get the best of you.
When you’re mad
And you don’t know what to do
And the mad you have makes you feel sad,
You can come sit in my lap, even when you’re twenty-two,
And we’ll try to talk it through,
Because that’s what Mommies do.
When you’re sixteen,
And you like someone
But you don’t want to,
Because it doesn’t fit the Five-year plan,
I’ll tell you how I had a Five-year plan
But I met Daddy in Year Two
And a week before Year Three,
I knew he was the one for me.
So before Year Three
Was halfway done,
Daddy and I
Had the same last name.
And by Year Five,
Daddy and I found out
Soon there would be
A little baby in our house.
I’ll tell you how sometimes your dreams change
From traveling to Greece,
To wiping tear-stained cheeks
And that’s okay,
Because that’s what Mommies do.
When you go off to college,
Or maybe to China,
Like your aunt did,
To take care
Of babies who
Don’t have mommies,
Or wind up in the army
To protect your country,
Like your uncle,
I’ll be waving goodbye
And crying
Because it feels like
Part of me is dying
But that’s okay,
Because that’s what Mommies do.
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 11:59 AM UTC
As come home racing up the stairs, the last place I left mommy was on your bed, where are you mommy why are you not there, as I race to find daddy, he tells me you've gone, gone where daddy, gone where daddy, mommy promised to never be gone, daddy why you crying should I cry too, your face is all red. Tell me what to do. One week later, I'm all in black daddy says I'm going to see mommy, so why am I in black, mommy liked purple I persist but daddy held strong and resist. Not to far daddy holds my hand, don't be sad daddy, we seen mommy again, no my child daddy's not sad Daddy's happy that mommy, had you. Oh daddy I say, you so sweet as I give daddy a kiss on the cheek, before long we arrive and daddy, turns and holds me tight, I love you baby, oh those words. Make me fell all fuzzy inside. Mommy we here as I race daddy down, I've never been here why do so many people frown, excuse Mr why are you sad? Daddy hurries to carry me back, I don't get it, why are we here, and where's mommy she said she would be here, where is she daddy I need to know here beds been empty for far to long. Oh my baby Mommies with God, gone to a better bed, made out of love! Don't be afraid my angel, I'm not afraid daddy, I know God daddy, mommy always spoke of him, he seems mighty nice and mommy said I can trust him, each day after school I rush up the stairs to kneel beside mommy and say a pray, we spoke with God daddy, and mommy asked that, when she leaves I pray everyday, I like God daddy, do u like him too, he seems mighty nice please say you do, mommy I'm big now its been ten years, I've grown a lot, I have piercing in my ears, daddy left me today, but not before we prayed, he told me to be strong and pray each and everyday, and every time I need a friend, to ask God to extend a helping hand, mommy I get it you had to leave. And so did daddy, to be Gods friends. mommy I love you daddy I love you too, and mommy and daddy, ill see you soon.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 3:22 AM UTC
Here is the situation,
As unfortunate as it is,
You no longer have a significant part of my heart.
Once there used to be a time, twice a time, when thoughts
bombarded my mind and chances were they concerned you.
But now my eyes, as reluctant as they are, can see you,
You unintentional enchanter.
You accidental seducer.
You oblivious snarer of infatuated captivation.
You are the alpha of canker blossoms.
You are the epitome of everything that frustrates me.
I used to live in a house where the
Walls were your voice and your face.
A mental institution in which I was never voluntarily admitted.
A house of mirrors in which I couldn’t see myself or anybody else,
My thirst for your infatuation reflected,
Mocking smiles of every kind.
I cried blackened tears that fell to the
Ground and then flew into the sky like
Bleached ravens, like childhood dreams,
So carefully groomed by the mommies and the daddies,
Collapsing into little liquid drops dripping through the desperate holes of a strainer.
I cried because you seemed to find it
Necessary to seek interests in other girls
And never me.
I am not a bruised apple;
I am not a crushed autumn leaf;
I am not a discarded baby blanket;
And I am not unworthy.
So why in god’s oh so deemed holy name
Have you not seen me?
Or maybe you see it right on my face,
Like I’m a displayed canvas as easy to
See as red blushed from a pale, void surface,
And you are just messing with me.
Playing with me
As I am your spaniel and you can treat me as such?
Like I am a doll whose string you pull
And receive a pathetic voice pleading,
Love me love me.
Am I below your standard of interesting?
What could possibly be so wrong with or about me that repulses you?
Not you really, but more your interest in me.
At this moment I am wound tighter with exasperation
More than any moment before.
You will always be a tug of war in my life.
If only I could simply expel you,
The nuisance you are.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 9:04 PM UTC
it is no secret
i am the women in the grocery store with a skirt too short that mommies warn you about
i am hot venom and warm beer and blood from your forehead
i am angry
and i have earned this wrath
i am angry
and i will use it to move mountains
i am angry
and every man who has ever ground their boots into my broken ankles, any man who dares speak my name with anything other than reverence or good humor, and man who tried to stand before me
had best watch their ******* backs
i am a bull with you in the corner of the pen
and i will rip out your ******* guts
and you will feel me for all i am all at once and be no more
i will show you who i am
and i will build bridges out of you
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
Listen, I’m throwing hands like sonny Liston cause money glistening
Mommies whispering, that’s funny business
Ye. I put you on my **** list, dude got me twisted
From downtown, when I wrist it
Ballistics saying that these people shouldn’t of risked it.
Yawl didn’t get the memo, **** you dudes must have missed it.
Hitting targets dead on, shattering your holistic
That ***** articulate, with a pistol whip, sinking ships.
You bacon bits, I go HAMM, then I’m taking chips
Smoking clips with a Jamaican grip, Black *** with a Caucasian lip
That’s a probation chic, yawl mad cause she caught in the grasp
Expose ****** who be sporting a mask
Call the coroner fast, throwing bows like my arm in a cast
Night Night then it’s all in the past
Don’t bring it up ***** don’t even ask, trying to put me on blast
Dog I put you on *** it be hella fast. Man I’m sending you a telegraph.
I just keep thriving to a point past surviving
Always had the secret weapon I just kept in in my lining
On a uprising, Titanic when I capsize it.
Man you swimming with sharks, I’m smooth like sound of a harp
In the shape of a heart, on the mark.
Cupid arrows, why you playing with darts, same from the start
I just finished the spark, how you gone start the fire
In the middle of dark, bite start with a bark
Try shaking him off, like shacking a cough
Shaking the north, down south, but flavor is raw.
***** left cause he south paw, south poor
Like a ***** up north, wasn’t born with a silver fork
Always went for the gold, ***** gold was the top of the goals
Popped out the ****** on top of my toes
Mom didn’t know, she was breaking the mold
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC