"newbies" poems
Hoodlum’s hanging ‘bout the corner block
Waiting patiently all day, everyday
Chose the wrong path, no coming back
Users two, that have no fear
Eagle eyed and bouncing here
Payin’ for a simple shot of gear
Death has struck that corner block
Legends leave, then newbies flock
Mothers pain, worse than news from Iraq
Yes it haunts us, ghetto lives
Slain by bullets and kitchen knives
Never able to wed our future brides
Users two, just felt the fear
Eagle eyed and bouncing here
Once done, nature will expel their gear
Whilst playin’ in the gangland night and day
Hoping his brotherhood won’t go away
Hoping as their bodies start to sway
Forever searching for respect
Wanting to live, but waiting for death
Hood life, that’s all you can expect?
Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 7:10 AM UTC
Dil em tang shuda azi dunya awlay che kunum
Purson maikunum, ini aale now ra che kunum
Naona ika thur nako da chaye janum
Aftiden da chaah, maigin awlay che kunem
_________________________
Heart's feeling full of this life, what to do?
Asking hence, with the newbies, what to do?
Dip not fully the self, hey dear you shouldn't!
Drowing in the well de despair, crying what to do?
c. Teeri
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 11:52 PM UTC
"Pass me a shroom, give me the **** hit up the ****** tap on the alcohol, and trip out on acid." That's what they all say in this world; that's how they get their high. But for you; I see it in your eyes Haley. You get a different high. No, you're not high on living life. You are high on trying to figure out how to life life. You hurt and I see that. You take away calories to increase your happiness. Some add more **** to there needle to increase their happiness. Whether you are taking or adding; you are hurting. What was your gateway? Was it the scale? The girl in the magazine sitting on the shelf? How about the "pretty, skinny girls" in bikinis at the beach? Like everything bad in life there is always a start to it. Some become a drug addict by smoking a cigarette; "oh, ill just do it once". Was it that way with you Haley? Just one less helping of the side that was for dinner, just one less snack, just one less meal. We always have false realizations for our self and it ***** we discover them in such a bad way. Did you enjoy the control that you could and can have over food? "They can't make me eat any more than i want do". Druggies like the lose of control too. They feel at ease with themselves in the moment and maybe the next few days; maybe you did too Haley. Druggies have close friends they smoke around, they don't dare let in newbies. I heard of your friend, Ana. She sounds like a scary person; yet you are aspiring to be her. Haley, you've got so much more to give and experience then these foul emotions. With all things in life there must be an end; this is your time to start a new chapter. Learn to live without your addicting. You can do it. 1 in ever 200 women have an eating disorder; 1 in every 300 are addicted to drugs. You can beat this.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
Superhero heavyweights
Alter ego misfits
Scandalous fall from grace
Public pain and private parties
Golden idol ego trips
Wrath of God
Not wrath of Kahn
Read a book
Take a look around
Stop flying high
Indestructible
Too messed up to see
The damage done
Idolaters be dammed
First commandment
Godless society
Superhero wannabes
Glory and the fame
Microscopes
Expand the putrid that make-up cannot mask
Everybody’s business
Do as you say not as you do
Becomes, monkey see monkey do
Flying high without a net
Newbies falling from the sky
That is not empowerment
Luck is not strategy
And life is not a game
Find importance
Both within and without
Then dawn your cape
And fly away
To help your fellow man
Not just your selfish greed
May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 5:31 AM UTC
sweaty forehead, a gory past
wildly glowing eyes of oblivion
shivering hands, sirens, bars
freedom, imprisonment, razor blades
peru, coca farmers, chemicals
smuggler channels, route 36
franklin's face on crumpled-up paper
rattling coins, benjamins, stacks
gotta make it or take it
gotta sell or abuse it
flashing louis, abundant future
sweaty forehead, ****** present
biker chapters, brothers, funerals
tommy hauled jim's coffin
rick carried tommy to his grave
cut-offs, gats, one call: ******
despair, hatred, vengeance, omerta
mortals remain silent, angels don't
rain of blood, a puddle of codes
turf, plots, streets, blocks, gangs
cults **** cultures, weapons replace
shelter in a group home; the stabbing
"shaun got heart, he a furious one --
can use dat dude, pay him up"
black, white, african-american, chechens
territories of unspoken laws
intimidated witnesses, gay mobsters
lured teenagers, deadly magic of power
the old ones impress the new ones
newbies will turn into soldiers
**** or get killed; headshots of fear
numbers on the forehead, blueish
unwritten are the rules of some
bribed politicians, skippers, knockos
the one who wets, will be wetted
others prefer the clarity of faith
organized crime, rats and kingpins
multilevel marketing, elevators
glass towers, late and secret meetings
route 36, the white magic of death
it's all in the game
"The only thing that burns in hell is the part of you that won't let go of your life.
Your memories, your attachments, they burn 'em all away. But they're not punishing you, they say. They freeing yourself.
Relax."
(Quote from the film "Jacob's Ladder")
Dec 26, 2020
Dec 26, 2020 at 4:06 AM UTC
You dot the i's
and call yourself
modern day romeo
coming to sweep me off my feet
coming to zap my heart
with lightening bolts
of awareness
awareness of you
Yet you never once
told me a poem
melted my heart with haiku's
or moved me with impossibilities
Never once has it occurred to you
that capulets and montagues don't click
because you always had your way
you're a modern day romeo
full of narcissistic poison
melting off your logic
revealing every chiseled muscle
that you think
will make your Juliets
melt
Oh romeo, romeo
where for art thou?
Show these modern newbies
the ways of articulation
the ways of seducing without the flesh
the ways of making eyes glow
oh romeo,
where for art thou
for the romance
I seek
is long
forgotten
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 5:25 AM UTC
stolen verses blanket the floor space
encircled by the inspiration of others
tastelessly faceless
pests controls fail
as the numbers overwhelm
everyone thinks there are special
and the selfies are there to prove it
zit faced miscreants misrepresent mankind
in asexual fodder and anthropomorphic
suburban camo
turban wearing wash-outs
hold court over newbies
attempting to sew again
hippy seeds
their stench, deafening –
sandaled dirt clods
scamper
seeking selfishly surrogates
someone to birth their ideas
raise and tend the dreams
fund the movement
all the while recognizing the futility
feverishly fapping the frail phallus
frequently finding foolish *********
flipped in their folly –
********* the finale
freakish frogs filibuster
night creeps in as the soft sound of mating toads
fill the air
stars dot the moonless night
complete in its absence of clouds
only the wash of the milky way
holds hearts –
pandering to the philanthropist
looking longingly in giving eyes
for a scrap of dignity
and bread –
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
The Riddle
One of you has seen my face.
One of you knows where I live.
Stuff. Important stuff,
like the locale of
my hidey-holes.
My email and my
cell disclosed
soon to be
on sale on eBay
for a trifling sum.
So now I must
disburse to parts
more remote,
reappear in a
nouveau identity.
Just a necessary precaution.
Moreover, methinks
you have grown
tired of my waning voice,
waxing ineloquently,
opining too frequently.
feel like a
thick wooly straw
welcome mat,
edges unravelling,
grown raggedy,
roundabout the edges,
or like a
paperback book,
tho well thumbed,
nonetheless,
consigned to the
bye-bye
discard box.
riddle me,
me be the riddle,
when I scribe
under a new
Nom de Plume.
will you recognize,
my signature
hid amidst the
restless words that
still need a home?
are my poems
worthy of a
second glance,
do you predispose
your attentions on
your favorites only,
the newbies squeaking
ignored and unattended,
whose ranks I have
now rejoined?
did you ever meet
a poem
you did not like?
did you ever greet
a poet
with palms
outwardly raised,
saying, no mas,
had enough,
no time for you
and your
clouded clarifications?
need you.
need you to judge me,
without the saddlebags of
predisposition and imposition.
if you need me
just give me a
loud holler
in my sleepy hollow.
tho sadly my
country road,
has listening posts
on the telephone wires,
I will know, when.
you call,
your voice,
I will come,
if you ask,
always.
I'll be riddling
in plain sight,
if you have the taste
for and of me,
you will find me
soon enough.
HOWEVER,
in emergencies
all you need dial,
my digital signature,
911 and
ask for the
Poetry Hotline.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
My day gets started early
I am up before the dawn
I do yardwork for a living
I get up to cut the lawn
Each morning brings another
Job that must be done
I've got just so many hours
I'm racing barefoot with the sun
They say that Time is Money
And I am always overdrawn
I wake up for work each morning
I blink twice, my day is gone
The only ending to my problem
Is when the snow begins to blow
That's when everything lies dormant
Waiting for the spring to grow
The trees drop leaves like crazy
An orange carpet all around
I have to mulch their golden cover
I can't just leave it on the ground
I fertilize and aerate
I trim the hedges by the drive
I pull the weeds there in the garden
I help to make your plants survive
They say that Time is Money
And I am always overdrawn
I wake up for work each morning
I blink twice, my day is gone
The only ending to my problem
Is when the snow begins to blow
That's when everything lies dormant
Waiting for the spring to grow
It's not a job for many
In fact it's not a job for most
Each year we hire newbies
And in three weeks most are toast
I wake up every morning
Hit the floor, I'm on the run
This ain't the job for many
But for me, it is the one.
They say that Time is Money
And I am always overdrawn
I wake up for work each morning
I blink twice, my day is gone
The only ending to my problem
Is when the snow begins to blow
That's when everything lies dormant
Waiting for the spring to grow
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 7:18 PM UTC
A couple likes here, and a few comments there.
All I want you to know is that I actually care.
When I look for your follow, I'm constantly asking "where?"
All these newbies, posting some pics, you follow them instantly I swear.
Not even four hours on the gram, and you follow her.
I'm goin five days now, I ain't no ****** amateur.
I tell myself to be patient, but it's getting harder everyday.
I swear things are turning gray.
Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 6:08 AM UTC
Looks like green blood
You're new here
Come hither
Let me see your face
"ahhh write poetry do you?
Haha or it writes you, hehe!"
Come closer to the fire son
Warm your hands and wipe that fear off your face
I don't bite
Just show me your neck
Green blood is all I seek
Hahaha!
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 10:14 AM UTC
This is my third account. I think I'm a poet. Old account made in uh duh I thank it's was in 2009 and I love to sit and create accounts to post and post and post mainly ******** stuff. I wear thick glasses cause I need them. I don't like being black so I sit and pretend to be white like most on here. I'm an idiot and I hate myself so freaking much.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
I love white men I think they are smarter than me.
I am not the kind of dark girl you guys think I should be.
That's my poem for all you newbies. WOOT!
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 4:19 PM UTC
Yesterday was okay:
Food is good; mood is good
The newbies look wired:
Lauren, he is nervous and pleasantly disturbed by forthright kindness.
Arthur is slow and engaging and intimate.
Kate is a little crazy
She sneaks into the men's house:
The men tense
Our eyes move together like magnets
"Hello." She accepts the challenge with interest.
"Hello." A Slavic lilt.
I comment that she mustn't like rules.
She is overjoyed by this.
Five minutes later she is caught and saunters sulkily away.
We are friends.
The old men, we are slower;
Even our eyes move slower
We explore the grounds with less hurry:
They will not move, and we resist the urge to pry their secrets before we have earned them:
We save their hidden corners like sweets under a pillow:
Times will come when they are needed; gorge now and starve later.
For us, time will stay put if we ask it.
With quiet acceptance we foresee the many moments that lie ahead when we will burn to usher time along.
A sullen wise old donkey that resists the switch.
He is our concern. And our fear.
You may become a master of time here.
More likely, you will realise its mastery over you:
Illuminated to a vivid and terrible outline.
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 8:39 AM UTC
The day was fast approaching
I could hardly wait
three days of sun and fun
were what was on my plate
They came from other countries
as well as from my own
gathering for what would be
an amazing show
Hero's from the 60's on their last hurrah
giants from the 70's were surely going to rock
then there was the newbies
thrown in like fresh meat
going to do their best to serve
a heavy musical treat
We packed the van and headed south
gathering friends along the way
hoping that the sun would shine
and stay that way for days
As we got closer to the entry gate
a thrill it went right through us
I remember to this day
the excitement built incredibly
it seemed to come in waves
passing a spliff between us
peering through the haze
We entered the event site
and quickly set up camp
close to the gate
so we would not be missed
The late arrivals came at last
and then we did all toast
to our great fortunes
who would drink the most
The air was electric,
energy pouring from the crowd
the first band came to take the stage
a roar was let out
The crowd it did move
as if it were one
giant breathing mass of flesh
in the blazing sun
We danced and sang till it was dark
the first night had begun
the music pounding out it's love
to the sinking sun
The heat it was oppressive
early the next morn
running behind the water truck
soaking away the sun
The next three days were a blur
but oh what a blast
The time made me appreciate
the love of the past
This happened back in '97
but to this very day
I wonder have I spent a better weekend
in all my waking days.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
All my older poems called a meeting
They don't like what they're seeing
As the newer poems are being read they're being left behind
At one time they we're top dogs
Now just another bump on the log
They want to do something about it and feel now is the time
So they started every now and then
Throwing one of their old friends in
With the pile of newbies to try and even out the playing field
Which has the new poems fighting back
Asking what is all this crap
You old guys have had your day in the sun now it's time to yield
You've had your spot of glory
You've rhymed your poems and stories
It's time to release the reigns, bring on some new ideas
That's when the poems of love stood up
And loudly proclaimed they'd had enough
Can't we all live peacefully and learn how to forgive
The words that spread the words of hate
Were all taken off of the page
Now all the poems on my site wonderfully get along
They all learned the art of compromise
Seeing the good in each others lives
Harmonizing fully now in each others poem
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
Silliest bristle came over me, like a yearn to wear a negligee to church, or eat ants. I can't remember who first gave me pause in an earnest sense of how to live life justly or fully. Not sure which one I'd want more. Doesn't matter, I suppose. My morals keep becoming reconfigured. It's difficult knowing who might be heroic, or who might be manipulating mass appeal in order to boost book sales. I think I just want some new exotic flavor, that rush of tasting avocado for the first time. That really happened to me, you know. I never knew the taste of avocado until I was nineteen and moved to California. It was not common at the time in New Jersey, or at least I had never had it. Never even heard of it, really.
I landed a job as a prep cook and dishwasher at a little mom and pop joint that catered to a mostly lunch crowd from the county court house. It was a quaint little town in the Sierra Nevadas. Townsfolk consisted of artists, musicians, gold miners, hippie marijuana propagators, and lumberjacks. Mostly, at that time, there were the good old boys, Republicans who held most political offices and police positions, and the newbies, attracted to the area by some new age communes, a Democrat influx. I fit into the newbie category, though it was a girl I followed there, not a guru. And of all the outstanding romances had, through the twenty five some years spent in California, none have lasted as long as my love affair with the avocado. It's a certain jolt I feel when guacamole passes through my lips, squishes around my mouth, and lands within an empty belly. I was beside myself in wonder, that very first day such a taste hit me. Now, being back in New Jersey, but not devoid of such illustrious fruit, I wonder where it is I stand on more matters of what it is to live justly or fully? Where is after here? I even see one of those new age communes has moved in down the street. Though I have my guacamole, I'm feeling less fulfilled.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC
i.
A crane cometh around
Down by the superannuated rivulet;
No machinery by this place
Mud bank's, phantom silhouette's.
ii.
I canst sense
The Miami Indians prowling the copse;
Their regard for living was natural
As the new ager's that came after, destroyed the crop's.
iii.
Thou canst seeith the moccasin's
Slithereth down the way;
Their black scale's, telleth tale's
Of a time of freedom's day.
iv.
I goeth down to this old tributary
Whence the land was hunted by bow;
I'm respecting the land, as it shalt be
Not doing as the newbies know.
v.
As the babies groweth, and the ghost's do showeth
The narrative that's meant to be left;
I shalt keepeth the aboriginal modus operandi
And walketh with the spirit's, of this place they hath lent.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 10:11 AM UTC
Caught in perpetual motion
the sounds of 1970 can never dim.
Like a colossal empire
we're the last gallant year of the 1960's
Got newbies Quartermass and Ashkan
waxing mettle
The Hammond and blues still ooze on
Prior Bubblegum pre Decimal Day!
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
I'm a sad excuse for a ******
I ain't consistent enough
I called you here, why I don't know
You just both seemed so tough
And you both sang like gurus
From the land of the east
Chanting your Hare Krishna's
I always thought it was neat
You said you should start chanting
Cuz if you go while you are
You're gonna go straight to Godhead
Comin' back as a star
Yes, I'm a sad excuse for a wild man
My profile's way too low
And I wear the shoes of a large man
I wear a large man's clothes
Got mechanisms of torture
Stuff that'll scare you cold
I'll whip 'em out and I'll use 'em
If you ever get out of control
I'll put the wheaties in the bowl
I'll feed the newbies and the trolls
I used to live for rock and roll
But now that world has wrecked my soul
Yes you can bet that world killed my soul
Oh, I'm a bad excuse for a dead man
All that breathing gives me away
I can't convince nobody, nobody
My eyes move in my face
Thank you Mister Morrison
But I think we got the wrong Mister Morrison
I said
Thank you Mister Morrison
But I think we got the wrong Mr. Morrison
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 2:05 AM UTC
MOVING ON
From here I stroll into the darkness,
From the land of known knowledge and ready made friends,
I'm walking on air bubbles,
I have friends I never thought I had.
I kiss outpatients goodbye with big hugs.
I take my gifts home in a plastic bag,
all full up with memories.
And now I'm reflect on my colleagues,
sorry guys,
you all fit my jigsaw of reflection and recollection.
I have no favourites in my team.
We all work in unison.
I have Mandy and Karen who don't want me to go,
but you know, I have to move along,
I have Rose and Terri who steer the team,
now that our dear Sister Diann left,
Allison left and came right back,
she must have known on which side her bread was buttered,
Aga, my friend is going,
will be bouncing back in a nurses dress,
Tracey, was the first colleague,
I saw when I was interviewed,
the first person who said "hello", you see I remembered.
Erline and Gill are both angels,
Maggie's much the same,
George and Charlotte,
I met you the first day that you came to stay,
two doctors in the making...good luck to both of you.
Mark is off to train,
off to find a new career, a proper little life saver,
he'll be great at that,
most definitely he will!
I am graced with knowing Lauren Dean,
she wants to be a midwife,
I know that she'll succeed.
Louise, well she is learning loads,
I was so delighted to find Julie S, had come to join our team,
I was touched by your cute little special gift..
and also the gift from the eye lady who made me cry.
Dr J, thank you for my flowers,
you made my day, thank you
We have a collection of newbies come to play,
don't know them that well but, I hope they stay.
Min and George, I appreciate you buying my silly books.
Kirsten and Kayla, I'll miss you both.
I'll miss you all as much as I can,
the receptionists and medical records,
especially Adam (LOL, winks at Kayla),
you all play a crucial part.
If I forgot to mention you,
Then I'm sorry,
you're all great,
all part of a memory well spent.
I'm getting tired.....
several patients asked me if I was retiring tomorrow,
Good God,
do I really look that old.
Been a long day.
Thank you all for your good wishes and gifts,
It's going to be another river to ride on,
I'm sure that I can swim.
Time for me to love and learn.
(C) Olivia Kent
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
I feel very fake when I'm spilling my guts
Sometimes i feel that I am going nuts
The challenge of holding on to my soul
Maybe tougher than I ever thought
Refusing conformity and rebelling on the norms
Has been my sole purpose in my years of living
Because being different in a country like mine
equates to being mentally insane
So sick of being prejudiced and scrutinized
I feel like a shadow sometimes, invisible
So translucent and immune to people's judgment
Newbies will suffer in this world
They're better off in the womb
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 11:14 AM UTC
how I got here, what to do,
frozen like a banana, brown,
curved in a bad posture, and
melting aint an available cure
every turn defeats me, too many choices
leads me into more drowing in uncertainty,
the new~ow!~now~word of external tumult,
that wraps me me bound in a blankety submission
talk to walls white and their answers come
pre~whitewashed, reverb off my skin, and
the echo chambers of my heart resist only
because they're already 98% clogged and
very choosy 'bout which truths got left
out
or newbies get let
in
sad sack sanctum
Mar 21, 2025
Mar 21, 2025 at 10:06 AM UTC
Clinging to conformity,
Craving crisp, new ideas
To install into individual ideas.
Instead newborn newbies,
Never knew the needles
That would nip them if they came close to,
Anything else.
*Down came the rain,
And washed the spider out.*
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC