"needlessly" poems
nobody loses all the time
i had an uncle named
Sol who was a born failure and
nearly everybody said he should have gone
into vaudeville perhaps because my Uncle Sol could
sing McCann He Was A Diver on Xmas Eve like Hell Itself which
may or may not account for the fact that my Uncle
Sol indulged in that possibly most inexcusable
of all to use a highfalootin phrase
luxuries that is or to
wit farming and be
it needlessly
added
my Uncle Sol’s farm
failed because the chickens
ate the vegetables so
my Uncle Sol had a
chicken farm till the
skunks ate the chickens when
my Uncle Sol
had a skunk farm but
the skunks caught cold and
died and so
my Uncle Sol imitated the
skunks in a subtle manner
or by drowning himself in the watertank
but somebody who’d given my Uncle Sol a Victor
Victrola and records while he lived presented to
him upon the auspicious occasion of his decease a
scruptious not to mention splendiferous funeral with
tall boys in black gloves and flowers and everything and
i remember we all cried like the Missouri
when my Uncle Sol’s coffin lurched because
somebody pressed a button
(and down went
my Uncle
Sol
and started a worm farm)
132k
Rain on me,
I have been longing to be free.
Lost in my world, needlessly.
Rain on me,
I am tired of fighting but I will not sleep.
I refuse to be reigned and I refuse to be a sheep.
Rain on me
and show me the way.
This place is empty and I cannot stay.
Rain on me
because it has been too long.
I am sick and tired of pretending to be strong.
Rain on me,
I want to see the lightning pierce the sky.
As the thunder roars and the clouds fly.
Rain on me.
Let the winds take my mind to another land.
No one needs to know and no one needs to understand.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 2:57 PM UTC
Things can only disrupt you as much as you allow.
If this seems hard to see or needlessly abstract,
consider the Factor that is Self-Discipline:
If any factor equals Zero,
the product is also Zero.
-
I mean this in a general sense; applied over time.
Things can be extremely bothersome in any given moment
but once those bothersome moments
reach forwards (and maybe even backwards) in time
******* up a perfect good "Now" then,
I say that it's a bothersome burden
which is (most probably) a result of unresolved internalized conflicts or Shadow.
This is where Self-Discipline becomes a Factor
and my analogy takes flight, in context.
Maybe it's only true for me, but I have my suspicions that I am not so unique in this way.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
I held her cold, dead hand
I kissed her lifeless face
Memorizing every moment
Knowing that I would never feel the comfort of a mother's love again.
Her selflessness was her demise
She neglected and gave all of herself
She smiled so big
She spoke soothing words
She needlessly apologized
All in her last hours
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 7:25 PM UTC
You're like spiderwebs,
Like thick wind entangling,
Every single **** one of you I ever met
Is wrapping around my memory as I struggle.
I obsessively map out
Every time I made you smile
With a twitch of my leg,
I needlessly outline
The dances we did with
Every tug of my wrists against the silk.
As I twist deeper into your clutches
I remember when we were happy
And spinning in soulkissed sinews.
Without you I'd be free
But you're worth the OCD.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
I think about the face of a woman
and her smooth skin
soft lips
the curvature of the Earth is kin to her hips
I feel humanity suffering needlessly
beneath her cells
as I wander her valleys and sand-dune hills
she is the beach
the ocean
the calling of many gulls screaming for food and
I love her white *******
But she is sneaky
and cares for me
caressing is painful
I see it in my own eyes the next day
when the smudgy bruises flit across my reflection
But men understand
without either of us speaking a **** word
we drive
we shout
we catcall
we game
the music takes us and we run for days
doing nothing
anything
and i guess sometimes we ****
Succinct and supernatural
Brawn or brown skin or bright ideas gone awry
always a good day with the gang or the bros
I feel safer in the hoods
I want her to notice me, and to shyly skip over like she did last week
i want to kiss her neck and pull back
soon enough to catch her half-lidded gaze into the abyss behind me
I want to wear boxers and treat her to fancy dinners
But
I want to be her
I want taste a mustache
I want to be lifted overhead like a little sister
and brought back to the earth with sweet
exploration
Impossibility
I want women and men to be the same thing
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
Social chaos metered out through tiers of population stung
By indiscriminate battle wrought lifeblood, incessantly, is wrung.
Why so the need for Assad’s torch, your Syria so needlessly debauched ?
Nameless causes fuel the fire, Shiite, Sunni intervention. Hezbollah and al Qaeda spew
Vindictiveness to streets of rubble, Toxic, killing vapours stew.
Misery to gasping children, horror in the dying eyes….
Condemnation points it’s staff to you, Assad, where vile blame now lies.
Why so the need for cities torched, Damascus needlessly debauched ?
Inevitably the missiles cometh, raining incandescent death and blast,
International righteousness throws intervention’s unknowns vast.
Why so this need for man debauched, Your Syria, once so beautiful, now scorched ?
Marshalg
Pukehana
7 September 2013
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
this is for the queer kids
who are taught their ABC's
but not their L's, G's, B's and T's
for the Russian government and the I.O.C
who deny Russian queers their visibility
to the people who call me ******
i wear your name-calling like a pink triangle
stitched to my sleeve
for the Harvey Milk's, the Christine Burns'
and every queer in between
to the allies who do more than say
"your sexuality is okay with me"
for the Jamaican trans* teen
who was murdered needlessly
to the television networks
who portray LGBT individuals positively
for the radical queers
the POC queers
the genderqueers
the queers who have felt excluded
this is for you
for us
this is a celebration
and an ultimatum
we are here
we are queer
& we will do more
than survive.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 10:42 AM UTC
Kind of a loaded question isn’t it?
Is there something you’ve lost?
Something you’ve spent?
Put yourself behind and look ahead
Don’t you gain something if you give something instead?
Do you have a family? Or friends? Who you’d do anything for?
Do you value yourself but see that they’re worth more?
I’m not a perfect person, that I can say
I’m only human but is selfish really the way?
Maybe you’d give up time for pain or for strife
But when it matters the most, do you give up your own life?
Maybe you’ve got it all, and you’ve got a life to live
But those who lose everything for others always have more to give
Maybe you don’t care, you’d give up nothing at all
You put yourself high up on that shelf, I hope you enjoy the fall
After reading some words that needlessly rhyme
I’ll ask the same question, but you answer this time
If everything matters, fate, destiny, and luck,
This question falls to you:
So what do you give up?
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 9:56 PM UTC
Maybe you’re mistaken
when you think about what’s out there,
You attribute ev’ry stimulus
to winged things from books,
Mistaking accidental circumstances
for essential causes,
There isn’t really anything
that God conveys with looks.
Perhaps it is hard to face the truth:
we’re just meat bags with will,
Which slowly rot away until
the day when we’re forgotten
Needlessly dissecting
every move and every inner thought,
Attempting to discover
what makes us all so very rotten.
Take a deep breath
And hold it in
Until you feel it all
...Fading away
Slowly toward death
All of us fall
Someday we’ll feel it all
...Fading away
Through my goat mouth, it’s true,
you can hear me bleating,
Like a little lamb who’s lambier
than lamby-lambs can be,
But yes in fact it’s bike tires,
and tin cans that I’m eating,
And I feel my goat heart beating
and... I want to flee.
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
Politicians speak about "The Fallen",
Our dear departed servicemen*
Its a nasty euphemism
for the Legion of our dead.
For they did not gently flutter down
like leaves of gold and brown.
They were raked by foes' machines guns
as they fought to take some ground.
They've met slaughter on the beaches,
been slain on distant mountainsides.
They've been sacrificed, quite needlessly,
for some Politicians' pride
Many a mother's heart's been broken
Widows and orphans have been made.
Political Stupidity has dug many a grave.
So don't speak about "the Fallen",
you who haven't borne the fight.
You've never paid the butcher's bill
so what gives you the right?
May 29, 2012
May 29, 2012 at 7:55 AM UTC
As if I’m going to wash my sins,
by finding a substance so viscous - to annihilate the acid
that seeps through me.
Perhaps it’s you refilling my first glass,
which is dried up by 11,
and replenished by 5 past.
Must I keep forcing it down my refusing gut,
so I can bare the stutter drooling,
crumbling, out your teeth.
Till I’ve sipped needlessly on your lies
and fell drunken on your delusional fables.
Now I’m slurring in my nights,
awoke, still high on your acid.
Eyes are bulging, bloodshot
from you firing bullets of your decaying burden.
-
As I walk I stumble,
diverging around solum streets.
Crows peck at my skin, to prompt me at sunrise.
Now and again I revisit
the morsels I had collected from the bottom of your chalice.
Savouring as I gulp down my regret.
Desperately urging to be hungover your reveries
one last time.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 7:01 PM UTC
wolf ,
can you land meat ?
or are busy being needlessly cruel to 'lesser' peers ?
could you even take a basic stalk about the woods ?
or would you be blistered
breaking in those brand new pricy walking boots ?
a full moon ?
maybe you'd drink to excess on those nights ?
maybe pick a fight or beat on your loved ones
but whimper the next day ?
that smart suit ?
ridiculous over your fur
heard you're on a trendy fad diet
you fidget at your desk
you fidget on your screen
work is obscenely wasteful
distractions are just plain obscene
you are a coward to your soul
soiled by domestic inactivity
Jul 4, 2022
Jul 4, 2022 at 1:39 PM UTC
green
the colour of freedom
a whispered memory
a mother's touch
red
the colour of blood
needlessly spilled
a river in the streets
grey
the colour of despair
but a remnant
of the candle's flame
death
a colour of...
it must be a colour
the pallor painting the father's-
green
it seems lost
among heartache, loss
will the memory ever fade?
blue
the sky under which children play
will they again?
for the sky is grey
green
the mother's nation
birthed of strife, breach
shining through
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
Sadie was a doubtful one
Her mind was tightly shut
When faced with the fantastical
She’d fold her arms and tut
She pranced around her garden
With an playful evil aura
And dealt a merry flattening
To all that passed before her
Their bodies lay around her
And an imp of mischief found her
She loved to trap and poison
And wished she’d been a spider
When a fizzing overtook her
When a rumble grew inside her
When a shrinking and a shrivelling
Across her form did tickle
And soon did Sadie realise
That wishes can be fickle
Her legs and arms divided
Her eyeballs multiply did
So sorry Sadie scuttled
Alternating creep and crawl
She tippy-toe’d across the grass
And past her victims all
And sadness was upon her
And with mourning in her eyes
Her grief compounded hunger
And an appetite for flies
Her lengthy limbs belied her
Sorry Sadie was a spider
She loped along a lily
And her sorrow turned to guilt
Her carapace was aching
For the blood which she had spilt
She wept a web of anguish
With her sticky little tears
She wound a downward spiral
Like the falling of the years
Her malice had been stunted
Her fangs were dull and blunted
Sadie gained existence
On a web of worldly woes
She fed her tiny tummy
Where the buzz and flutter goes
And she learned the price of living
So she killed just what she ate
And she knew why killing needlessly
Was such an ugly trait
And with a human soul inside her
She chose to be a spider
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
my roommates are plotting tonight.
"oil wrestling," says Tookah.
"mud fights," says Darby.
"let's be strippers!"
in unison this time.
they fake enthusiasm well enough. so well i'm not sure if they're kidding.
i put in my headphones and disengage.
it's electric, combined with some pseudo thinking.
but i have to admit, my hypochondria subsides
when i'm overtaken by their banter.
Broken Social Scene is in my head.
smoke between my lips. American Spirits.
coffee on my tongue. tea will come later.
Lauren will get off work soon and i'll feel
complete again.
but until then, i will sit here and record this ****
needlessly clean my vinyl,
maybe clean the apartment,
consider buying a new guitar,
immediately dismiss the idea,
fiddle around on the piano,
pick up the fourth and final roommate from work,
wait for my heart to stop beating in my head,
and for her to come home to me.
Feb 4, 2011
Feb 4, 2011 at 2:42 PM UTC
In a mess, I awake to the feeling
I didn’t do it,
so I puke and I crawl and I drink
just to do it all again.
At night, I am needlessly obsessive in
wasting time,
only maudlin with alcohol stained tears
alone in a bathroom stall.
In the harsh darkness, my shadow falls
to its knees
reckless and voluntarily debauched
can’t stop the sins from slipping out.
At times, I have discovered myself
to be obscene
so I scream instead of honeyed whispering
begging for the familiar collapse.
Crazed, I shake my hair out and leave
before you notice,
walking like a shameless heretic
to find the next version of myself.
For a moment, I twist and turn sour
in your mouth,
and if you thought kissing me would save me,
you were wrong.
Aug 31, 2020
Aug 31, 2020 at 4:30 PM UTC
Stack the bodies higher
Stack them for the empire
People want more cash
So they sell harmful weapons
They don't mind the ash
Made of victims of aggression
Like collateral children in Yemen
Who are needlessly sent to heaven
Or the schoolchildren in Florida
Who had to go face the coroner
These children only know what we teach them
So how come the only things that can reach them
Are our weapons
And deadly directions?
Because of lobbyists like the NRA
Using logic from the seventh grade
To create a coalition of those who believe what they're told
And those unwilling to change because they're too old
And adults who desperately want their toys
Even if it means the death of little boys
So the bodies continue to stack to the sky
For people who dream of killing black guys
Black in the sense that they don't know who they are
They just want to feel hard
Stuck in a childish fantasy of protecting their home
Or a petulant fear of the unknown
Their economic gain
Causes ballistic pain
Inside their bullet rain
Innocence circles the drain
But we must make decisions together
Even with the emotionally severed
In order to make our society better
Until then our children get deader
They use uncertainty to buy time
And convince the masses
That the real problem is crime
To create rhetoric molasses
Because they make a living
From us dying
They don't mind bullet giving
Until we're lying
Six feet under
The guns sound like thunder
Warning of an approaching lightning storm
Where the rain drops stab us to our core
Then mix with the blood on the floor
Until civilization is no more
I hear loud guns
Then I hear church bells
I walk in the sun
But the foul dirt smells
Of the corpses of countless kids
Representing high contract bids
And the tears of their mothers
That are swept under the covers
By those with no empathy
That cause only entropy
Then they expect to live near us
A gun will make them hear us
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
The Kristeille Bra :
And Other Pathways To - ( Disaster ! )
Polarities : so smartly empowdered
And, petitely enslaved -
Potentialities ?
- In extremis, I'm afraid.
But if thus were so, then ...
(Even thinly veilled) ;
Let us duly consider :
Are our appetites (fe\male)
In actuality and fact umm,
Needlessly Manichean;
The torments of
noisy Siblings ?
Why, after all I ask,
only two -
Don't
You ?
Alas,
To the Medici
Roundly go the
Battle and the day !
(And sublimity)
(Or so the legend
goes ...... )
For those who favour
such Palantines,
(and gravity)
a throne.
For :
Pure symetry confounds my interest -
hnn.us/articles/7202.html
James R. Morse NYC 2012.
All Rights Reserved.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 2:32 PM UTC
There have been times in my life
Where I have been selfish, cruel
Wandered my own path
Heedlessly needlessly
Burning bridges
Now I am older
Slightly wiser
I choose to gather friends
Not enemies
Think of others
Sometimes before myself
Because honestly
I have found
Altruism is good for the soul
To give of oneself for no return
Or quid pro quo
Ultimately I've found
You reap what you sow.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
I know a girl who won't give up.
The strongest woman in the world.
She will smile
Without biting her tongue.
She will laugh
Without sadness on her lips.
She will soar
She will fly
In time---
Every single night.
She pains.
She pains.
She dies,
time
til
time
in every single
drawing breath.
Needlessly.
She cracks.
She wounds.
She breaks.
She scars.
Scarily.
Killing herself
Just to fall asleep...
Before she prays.
Makeup---
She pains.
She pains.
Yet she stands.
She tires.
She tries.
Makeup---
She smiles.
Fractured.
Yet still smiles.
Tearless.
Wearless.
Tireless.
But not painless.
Makeup---
She talks.
She pains.
She smiles.
Makeup---
She walks.
She pains.
She runs.
Makeup---
She's strong,
yet her strength
it needs refilling.
For she stands,
it aches,
yet still she has,
anaesthesia.
Makeup---
She succeeds.
Yet it pains,
walking away.
Makeu---
She goes home
Alone.
It hurts.
It hurts.
Yet she drives.
Make---
Cooks food.
Instant made.
It burns.
It burns.
Yet she eats.
Mak---
Brushes her teeth
Looks at a mirror
Seeing herself,
Smudges.
Blurs.
And yet she still
has the power
to close her eyes.
Ma---
And she lies on her bed.
With all the pain in the world.
She doesn't even
have to wash off
the makeup on her face,
she just cries it off...
M---
Before she prays.
Just to fall asleep...
Killing herself
Scarily.
She scars.
She breaks.
She wounds.
She cracks.
Needlessly.
Drawing breath
in every single
time
til
time
She dies
She pains.
She pains.
Every single night.
In time
She will fly.
She will soar.
Without sadness on her lips.
She will laugh
Without biting her tongue.
She will smile,
The strongest woman in the world.
I know a girl who won't give up.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 5:01 AM UTC
I'm not trying to be needlessly edgy or ****
But can we lay off Kevin all up in yo Spacey?
I know it seems wrong
But I feel I can understand
Or at least relate
Because when I feel too much love in my heart
For somebody younger
Who is a guy
I start doing crazy ****
Like projecting my life onto his
Maybe he's scared
Maybe he's alone
Maybe I could save someone from that
I have to remind myself that was just me
And that there is no such thing as salvation
When your mistakes are supercharged
Because of the scandalous homosexual element
Yet there's no one to turn to
Because nobody understands
So your actions become louder to drown the silence
The stakes of the mischief grow
There's tens of thousands of dollars in property damage
That can be attributed to my sexuality
You have to find a way to push past that
The only way I found
Is to be open about who you are
Because until then the fear will consume you
You fear they will laugh, mock, judge and hate you
Until you wish they were silent again
And they will do all these things
And you will wish all those things
But you'll be able to face it with strength and honesty
Because your fear is more powerful than their callousness
But more importantly it's better than the alternative
When people discover your nature
Through a mistake you've made
And unleash the wrath of God
They will never give a ****
About how they contribute to these moments
They're only there to throw gas on the fire
They say it's a mistake to ****** a minor
They say it's a mistake to be a whiner
And there's no one who'll ever take your call
Expecting them to understand
Well, that's the biggest mistake of them all
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 2:51 AM UTC
I guess I feel threatened by your strength
I guess I feel threatened by your beauty
I build brick layers between us.
What is that?
She ushered me to that golden path of sacred
My hands seek but grasp not
But there is something there to be taken
Why the blinders?
Why the stammer?
I have never been so confused
‘Olobeouch,’ the Yapese say
A tangling predicament worth
Unraveling with a fine-tooth
Bamboo comb
What about awareness
Emotional terror both by day
And by night
The subtle insidious kind
Calm waves of sad
Inertia creeps
What is that?
How do I heal when--
(and thanks for putting words to it, Rudy):
When it feels like the arms of my
Clock have arthritis?
Ship wreck on the wrong shore
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My feelings for you have grown needlessly ornate
Yours for me, simple
Sullivan says:
Friendship is underrated
Because of its inherent
Ability to be so earthen
So organic
And, thus
Conceptualized
Less
So why have I built
Nonsensical negativity?
Self-sabotage
What is that?
I’m not that guy.
I told you:
“I want so much more of you than I need”
I didn’t know at the time that I got it twisted
Maybe:
I need you more than I want to admit
Love the one you’re with
I idealized, romanticized the **** out of you
Before I even came back
I shot myself
Big toe on rifle trigger
A nice distraction from more
Pressing issues?
What is that?
I thought I was alone
But you reminded me
I am not
I can’t tell you how much that means to me
Those words:
Struck match
In a dark room
I’ve not let anyone acknowledge or
Sympathize with my lingering ache
Much less help anyone understand it
What is that?
I’m not that guy
I’ve never been that guy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I let news of:
Thousands killed by super typhoon
Refugee birth
******** hunter casualty
Child victim of AIDS
Remind me that my pain is small
Pretending that that news is
Good enough to build perspective
And deal with pain
When it isn’t
“We accept the love we think we deserve”
I guess I thought I didn’t deserve you
Thank you for reminding me that that is
Not Truth
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ask me unprovoked questions
By the sea, under a tree
Whisper me stardust
Because one day I want to say:
Love me for the man I’ve become
Not the man I was
I touch the tip of your nose
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
like the time i walked a mile
to her house with no shoes on
she was waiting with a bowl of cold water
the pavement was wet with heat
twenty nine **** cigarettes on the teenage balcony
trying to hit the neighbors house with spit
or ash because they
never really liked us, distractedly stroking the dog’s back in
every crosslegged seventeen year old
too hot to breathe sticking minute
the bathtub is overflowing because
i’m talking on the phone
ghosts slip on the stairs
i’m needlessly concerned with everything, with
victory, drooling blood all over the bathroom
i get in trouble for the things i do with my boyfriend
in the 35 thousand dollar swimming pool
and in the foyer of the two million dollar home
that i’ve been ******* around in since 1995
distractedly mouthing words every crosslegged
fourteen year old minute, we are both
licking our lips
looking at all the cars in the driveway i’m
somewhat tired of gentle eye makeup remover
the classic morning lens flare in the guest bedroom
artifacts gathering light instead of dust, it’s all
growing white through the glass blocks, carefully installed
wary of “architectural importance”
(the cars in the driveway are all
just people looking)
i’m pooling in this glass
and all over the walls like a thrown egg
i can’t help but kneel here
and keep my face turned up,
licking up sweat, waiting for the fever to break
when the tornado comes we’re pressed
together in the safe room
where the house is the most dark
if you look outside, you can see owls
and where the turtles were buried
the swimming pool
the gasping fingers clenching
the high water pressure-
do you know what i’m talking about?
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 8:39 PM UTC
Static of definite extinction, to whom are We allied?
If it is to Your noise, Your scatter and clean-up-later attitude,
then We are separatists.
If to Whatever, We are assuredly conspiring cohorts.
Do You claim to provide what We've needed all along,
but have simply been too short-sighted to know We've needed?
Or do You delineate? Do You define Us by unpacking Us,
thereby reconstructing Us into sections of a whole untarnished tool?
Machinery, if you will?
Take, for instance, television.
Do We need, or even want to watch?
Needlessly We need it. We want it for lack of choice,
or so We think. It is, simply, there.
Easily - and how easily We may never know - one may turn
to the body's offerings, or the plummets and peaks of the mind.
Sport, science, language, art, human, essential, vivid, now -
they are nearer than no one knows; practically graspable.
But Static, You move Us to wish.
You **** Us to think we must consummate Ourselves.
As We said, We are separatists.
Declare some vapid civil war.
Who, then, will provide your nothings?
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 8:58 PM UTC