"nats" poems
A pear is a seed my darling dear
And if You, my sweet pear, was a sapling
it would take a thousands years
for You to be as wise as the young redwood tree
in the forest by the salty sea
You don't pick the buds off the rose bush
expecting them to blossom in Your possessive hand
You wait for the perfect moment for the bud to open
sharing her beauty with the sunlight
only then allowing You to gaze at her full glory
And a whole year has gone by for the tree
in which You call home to bloom,
The tree that provides a safe haven for You to ripen
in a burrow between her leaves
protecting You from harsh nights
My dear fruit, You are not ripen yet
You have a couple more months
bloom my sweet pear
if You are too hasty
and allow the nats to gorge on Your splendor
then You will no longer be of value to anyone
I will discard You
my lips will never kiss Your gorgeous skin
You will never be chosen at the market
tucked away in a basket
given as a precious gift.
You will be thrown
mixed into compost
to live the rest of Your days
rotting, unhappy, until You die;
A spoiled little fruit.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
Like a star in the daylight
Unseen but burning bright.
Like a hibernated bear in it's cave
You don't know the existence hence stand brave.
For the birds also chirp
In front of the sea's enormous burp.
For the Nats also build home
Sadly smashed when you walk or Rome.
Like a fire inside for doing right
The things that bothered when lacked might.
Like inside a prison cell as a slave
For freedom you shall forever crave.
For the spirits inside can hide sometimes
But to ignite them, enough is this rhyme
For now you should get up as I did
Remember not to be your own culprit.
Aug 6, 2021
Aug 6, 2021 at 9:45 AM UTC
Joe still can't get
the senate chamber to agree
that he has a well thought out
budget strategy
parts of his budget bill wont get passed
this calendar year
which will cause
the Libs and Nats to all jeer
expenditure
must be well reined in
the stack of treasury notes
are rather thin
none of the belt tightening
measures getting in
the impasse means the government
wont have savings in the tin
the country needs to have
the books in the black
if they don't pass the bills
we'll always looking back
Clive Palmer, The Greens and Labor
wont give ground
so the budget papers
will just keep hanging around
parliament will soon
be on a summer break
with our current fiscal balance
being at stake
we're all hoping
that common sense will prevail
as our nation's economy
shall continue to ail
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
You know poetry is like standing naked on a busy street. But in a way it's very freeing. I don't share my poetry with my freinds and family. I guess I'm kinda scared to know just what they'd think. It's kind of like my ***** little secret. Things I would never talk about in real life, I can lay to rest on paper. Well that is if I can get to a peice of paper before I forget what's in my head. That happens quite often, but what can you do. I am well into my fifteys, and have the attention span of a nat. I think that's what I want to say. I'm not quite sure how long a nats attention span is. Come to think about it nats can be pretty anoying. God I hope I'm not anoying. Oh well what was I saying? Hey, can I get kicked off this site for aimlessly wandering through other peoples minds? Oh, back to the point. I do think I have one. POETRY is kinda like walking up to someone on the street and asking," Do you like my underware?".... Dam, I burnt the cookies.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 2:31 PM UTC
The streets are empty tonight.
This city has been deserted.
The walk back is lonesome…
I let my mind wander. Walking methodically and without purpose. As if my soul’s been stolen away.
The coffins around me were once the embodiment of what man strove for.
To be larger than life. To be secure. To be structured.
Now the buildings and skyscrapers personify man in a different light.
Cold. Lifeless. Empty.
The grey walls **** you slowly.
The frigid air reflects the mood of the buildings.
And as the wind blows, the mood is passed into me.
I shudder from the thought of being so hollow.
There is a man near the corner of the road.
He is lying on the concrete.
Hundreds of flies and nats hover over his body.
The stench is putrid.
I shuffle around him and try not to breathe his diseased air.
He moans.
Rises slowly.
The dead coming back to life.
“food”
Is all he says.
I stare into his eyes.
I see only myself.
I’m not surprised.
I lie back down on the concrete.
Feel my stomach curse me.
And wonder,
What happened to me?
Sep 18, 2010
Sep 18, 2010 at 7:02 PM UTC
A customer stole my pen & said it was his.
A fat, old, Hispanic male on a bike stole
my mom's money at the bus stop out of her shopping cart.
My mom stole my daughter.
She kicked out & divorced my father.
My brother calls me the *****
My Co Workers believe I am annoying.
The union job don't schedule me enough hours.
I want full time work not part time pay.
My engine is leaking oil.
My tooth needs a permanent filling.
I avoid any further drilling.
It ***** to be poor.
It is a fire hazard just to use one door.
The grass is not green.
The house is filthy & unclean.
Nats in the kitchen, bathroom, & backroom.
A sty inside & out.
I can't wait to move the **** out.
Only half the burners on the stove work.
**** water came up through the tub drain.
The oven don't work.
The bed springs creak.
The refrigerator leaks.
The door knobs don't lock.
There are cobwebs on the ceiling.
The floors have no carpet.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
I bake in the one week of cool hard summer that
July brings this year, enough warmth on the street
to make me not care about the nats touching my face
as I smoke and look up;
the building is asleep as it should be
and I’m careful not dream in the black to long
looking at my old home.
I turn back down the road and turn from 5 to 30
as a man approaches me with a different accent,
to mine, and since the night is nearly
complete, I feel easy
and give him a light.
I see him again as I walk home
as he speaks to a stranger near my uncles block,
and takes his phone.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
The rain, sits tightly
up above, in dark clouds,
contemplating release,
hiding the light, and graying
out the land we sit idly upon
Her eyes glimmer, with
shades of gold as she
falls away, from me
eternally
cold skin with moonlight dancing
upon the surface, flies and nats
swarming delicate flesh
I am dead
My mind continues and does my body
to what end? I've already lost it
somewhere to the deep rumbling calls
of the ocean
Dancers will dance
Singers will sing
Lovers will love
As dead men lay on the eve
of the summits demise
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 12:00 AM UTC
Windows with no holes in the screens.
Countertops & tables surfaces that are clean.
Sinks with no ***** dishes.
My own bedroom & refrigerator to put whatever we wishes.
Our own closet with a security deposit.
Without dust or mold.
No cobwebs clinging in the heatless cold.
An oven that works with a toilet that flushes.
With maintenance that rushes.
A fridge that don't leak.
A bed that don't creak.
A household that is organized, clean, & neat.
Trash taken out daily & never overflowing.
Spacious & roomy with people adoring.
Without mold, stench nats, or ants.
Nothing to complain about rave or rant.
To be able to have a friend over.
To have a clean bath tub for my body to get washed.
To be in charge & be my own boss.
Head if the house with my own address.
A moment to savor that froze.
No foul stench up my nose.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC
*Remember my love
I asked you for the dance
so many years ago now.
More years than leaves
blowing in the fall wind.
I was fascinated
You saw the glow in my eyes
all that my poor heart
could not conceal.
You could see I know
I was just fascinated
you were so lovely.
All that I ever wanted
All I ever needed.
Your hair had the
fragrance of moonlight.
Your head rested
upon my shoulder.
Your eyes closed
my lips kissed your hair.
we waltzed to Nat King Cole
His velvet voice crooned softly.
It became our song my love
Fascination
Always Fascination.
i can close my eyes
even now my darling.
Come dance with me once more.
On our kitchen dance floor.
I will sing fascination
for you my angel.
Softly in Nats whisper
And let me tell you again
How my fascination
turned to love
I sing it low and sweetly
For my forever love.*
**It was fascination
I know
Seeing you alone
With the moonlight above
Then I touch your hand
And next moment
I kiss you
Fascination turned to love**
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 9:52 PM UTC
~for she who knows ~
<>
The word "likeability" is spelled L-I-K-E-A-B-I-L-I-T-Y., though the inhuman spelling master of this site, deems it a misspelling mistake, condemning it to live in red, and offering up no replacement
<>
it is that time of night, which is also
a time of early day, when dark silence prevails, except for the excessive rumbling of the our old little cottage's environmental devices gut rumbling while laboring to condition our atmosphere
our atmosphere;
is my brain on fire at 2:30am,
with new conceptuals, many contradictory, racing in and about my brain all begging to
write me first, while the mental fluids are juiced, and words are finger pecked into existence with a maddening slowness
but this one,
re likeabilty has risen to the fore,
because it is the last to be born,
and seems therefore claiming precocious precious preeminence
not a quality I deem much in my owned possess, but one easy discerned in others and delicious delighting to the human souls who
recognize it instantly by the smiling comfort of its parfume
what I like about like about likeability is it's a pleasing scent,
that aerosol invades a room and
spreads like a virus of happy,
quite contagious to we old curmudgeons,
who by nature feel put upon by
our aging equipment, and the daily struggle to maintain it, and the forces to countervail it ,
are endless and not cheery by nature
So
I am enlivened and enriched,
engaged and effervescent,
when youthful patois,
direct and with little boundary,
radiates the human existential,
and light shines upon my soul,
awakening in me
an optimistic countenance!
perhaps I exaggerate,
confusing youthful energetic optimism
for a condition,
and not merely a demeanor,
but I rethink upon it,
snd decidedly decide
this for real, this is genuine,
and by its very natural nature
(a lotta nats in nature)
its openness, unguarded,
refreshes and moisturizes
our skins,
internal and external
this special quality is not universal,
or else there would be peace on earth (ain't happening),
but those who have it,
who think beyond privilege and
privacy,
but intuitively,
offer up to all
a pleasantness
rich and original,
will write an indelible script
upon the world
for the better
I like it.
Jun 2, 2025
Jun 2, 2025 at 3:09 AM UTC
*Remember my love
I asked you for the dance
so many years ago now.
More years than leaves
blowing in the fall wind.
I was fascinated
You saw the glow in my eyes
all that my poor heart
could not conceal.
You could see I know
I was just fascinated
you were so lovely.
All that I ever wanted
All I ever needed.
Your hair had the
fragrance of moonlight.
Your head rested
upon my shoulder.
Your eyes closed
my lips kissed your hair.
we waltzed to Nat King Cole
His velvet voice crooned softly.
It became our song my love
Fascination
Always Fascination.
i can close my eyes
even now my darling.
Come dance with me once more.
On our kitchen dance floor.
I will sing fascination
for you my angel.
Softly in Nats whisper
And let me tell you again
How my fascination
turned to love
sing it low and sweetly
For my forever love.*
*
**"It was fascination
I know
Seeing you alone
With the moonlight above
Then I touch your hand
And next moment
I kiss you
Fascination turned to love"**
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 5:39 PM UTC
why are there already nats around me?
i'm not dead yet you freaks
May 13, 2021
May 13, 2021 at 10:04 PM UTC