"nico" poems
More than just kawaii desu
More than nico nico ni
And senpai noticing me
You are the reason my heart goes doki doki
More than the final rasengan
More than the last hurrah
And all the power needed for a kamehameha
You give me strength when all hope is gone
More than just friendly rivalries
More than swimming medley relays
And underdog hero clichés
You help me be the best I can be always
With Moon Prism Power
I’ll transform right before your eyes
Into a weeb like no other
You bring me joy before I even realize
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
Every now and then
I go deep inside my mind
Just to have a little rest
And see what I can find
I don't go in there often
It dark and I must say
That sometimes I'm afraid
That I may lose my way
There's a little corner café
Where Groucho sits alone
Stan Laurel sits there writing gags
And Greta Garbo sits and moans
Sinatra sings for all of them
John Lennon talks to God
Brian Jones gives swimming lessons
There's Liz Taylor and Mike Todd
Over in the distance
At a table in the corner
Hemmingway sells movie scripts
To mogul man Jack Warner
Elvis does a hip shake
Ruth and Gherig playing catch
Bud and Lou do Who's on First
Humphrey Bogart lights a match
Charles Dickens playing darts
A red balloon comes floating by
Andy Warhol sits with Nico
Where German pop songs go to die
Marilyn and James Dean
Sit quietly talking on the stairs
John Kennedy and his brother Bob
Just pretend that they are both not there
Chico plays piano and
Harpo with his harp
Bad jokes float around the room
being told by silent stars
Phil Everly and Phil Ramone
They're new here so they're woozy
Sit talking of the songs they'll miss
Rick Nelson sings of Susie
You see it is a mad mad place
in my head when I may wander
I don't go in too deep
And I've met Henry Fonda
There's images, and icons
Family, and friends
on a little street inside my head
That's a circle with no ends
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
19/4/13 12.01am
Like fragile bubbles, children fly
so swiftly as we set them free
between the earth and cloudswept sky
with colours swirling magically.
I watched my sweet boy go to war
so sad-eyed, in his uniform
his colours darker than before
like greying clouds before a storm.
Go carefully into the fray
beloved boy, return to me
all I can do is wait and pray
as once again, I set you free.
*Inspired by a scene from BBC1's The Village, in which Joe (Nico Mirallegro) was about to return to
the front line in WW1 and his mother Grace (Maxine Peake) had been showing very poignant hints of
the fear she felt for his survival in the trenches.*
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 7:10 PM UTC
by Sara L. Russell (aka Pinky Andrexa)
I'll paint you in the colours of a day
Rose -madder sunrise, amber, burnished gold;
For nature has no solid black or grey
And colour lets her miracles unfold.
Adored by light, touched by ecstatic air
And on the canvas lend your warming grace;
All subtle shades of skin and tousled hair,
So beautiful in body, soul and face.
I'll paint you in the velvet tones of night,
Emerging from the shadows of a dream;
Temptation's muse, whose eyes softly invite,
Whose skin is moonlight and vanilla cream.
I'll paint you faithfully, and when it's done,
All others pale beside the Golden One.
-------------------------------------------------------------
NOTES:
I wrote this after I finished my painting of the brilliant young actor Nico Mirallegro, from a calendar photo of him. The photo is a very iconic image that has been much-commented on his MySpace page, so it was a good choice to paint.
Oct 11, 2009
Oct 11, 2009 at 4:31 AM UTC
I flagged down the first taxi
I got in and told him where
I told him "take me home "
"I'll let you know when we are there"
He asked me which direction
I said for him to head out west
Then I asked him for a favour
I pulled a cd from my vest
I said "can you please play this"
"I'll give directions on the way"
"If you do, I'll pay you double"
There was nothing he could say
He slipped the disc in, headed out
In the direction I had said
Then I listened to the music
And let it filter through my head
Elton John, broke through the silence
singing "Take Me to The Pilot"
Two verses in, I said "turn left"
He made the turn, but remained silent
Another verse, another turn
I was sitting back, just waiting
Then he asked "Where we going, sir"
I said "home", although, 'till then I'd been debating"
Curtis Mayfield filled the background
Three verses in, we made a turn
I sat there, heading homeward
Exactly where, was no concern
We turned twice more, continued straight
Dr. John sang Iko Iko
The driver followed my commands
Turns out, his name was Nico
the songs came on, played out and he
Drove exactly where I said
You see, I've been this route before
I know the music in my head
A different disc, with different songs
Would get me home as well
The streets we chose to drive on
Well, I simply cannot tell
My route is formed through music
It fills me up and leads the way
To exactly where I need to be
Like home, the place today
The Four Seasons sang of "What A Night"
Back in nineteen sixty three
I told the driver "take a right"
It's the third place that you see
He asked if I was certain
It was just an empty lot
There was nothing there too special
I said "yeah, this here's the spot"
I paid him and I left his cab
I said "I may just see you soon"
He gave me my cd back then
He must have thought I was a loon
I sat down in the empty lot
I grew up here as a lad
My Mum and Pa, my brother too
Best times I ever had
The house came down 10 years ago
Nothing bad, just aged and rot
I still paid the city taxes
You see, I own the lot
I visit here each summer
Grab a cab and play the tunes
they take me home inside my mind
As I go visit the ruins
My Mum and Dad are gone now
Moved to Arizona three years back
My brother, in the Army
Last I heard, he's in Iraq
I sat here for an hour
Then I walked on down the block
Listening to my minds eye music
Walking slow and kicking rocks
I got down to the corner
I got in and told him where
I told him "take me home "
"I'll let you know when we are there"
He asked me which direction
I said for him to head out west
Then I asked him for a favour
I pulled a cd from my vest
I said "can you please play this"
"I'll give directions on the way"
"If you do, I'll pay you double"
There was nothing he could say...
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 6:48 PM UTC
Names are so queer
Nobody seems to understand
Your name has meaning
And power,
It's true
But it has also colour
Of every shade and hue
Now, Nico is red,
Bright red like blood in your head.
Fred sounds black
No problem with that
It's merely a colour
I see
When I hear your name.
Janine is pink
Or sometimes green
It all just depends
With which mood it its seen
Amy is yellow
Like a field full of daisies
In the early morning sun
Bright enough to startle a fellow.
Damian is a triangle
With earthy colours
Strong and faithful
Sprotting from there earth's foundations
John its a brown name
That much is sure
It's a brown mansion
with two towers
That houses the dame.
Dylan is blue
About that there's no doubt
God of the sea
Go on and trust me!
If your name is Catherine
Now that is quite something
It's a strong green pillar
With black leaves to adorn it.
Every sound makes a colour
Every name sounds a shape
To experience
Shut up more with mouth agape
Like master Da Vinci Taught,
Use all your senses
And instead of survive
Learn to truly live!
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
*inspired by the performances of Maxine Pearce & Nico Mirallegro in BBC1's The Village,
this is from the point of view of a mother to a son who has to go to war*
01.20am, 30/4/13
Wherever life may send you
However far away
May light beings befriend you
Angels, to light your way
Four angels for protection
To guard the path ahead
Three more for introspection
To drive out fear and dread
May archangels placate you
And sanctify your dreams
May love illuminate you
However dark life seems.
Wingbeating high above you
To guide you on your way
The angels and I love you
A little more each day.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
holiday cheer a hallmark fantasy
warm and fuzzy
distant, imaginary
a daytime dream, a sleepy scene
one I’ll never know
But the thought of you
as though a fire crack
lifts the weight from my limbs
I float on your fumes
feel soothed by your moves
living my hallmark fantasy
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 11:44 AM UTC
There's plenty of fish in the sea,
but what about the bad ones?
I feel like my skin is made of wool
and I'm always Yoshimi battling the robots,
but maybe the Yoshimis are battling me.
And I've always hated gospel
but it's the most honest shitlist I've read;
and I feel like my mind love to play tricks on me,
like my own personal sugar daddy.
It's my zombie friend that constantly lies to me.
The bells in my brain keep ringing "rill rill rill"
like the disorderly dreams they know best
and I can always feel the knife tickling me until it hurts like
"Why don't you come to my party, Valerie?"
but I always end up alone by the woodpile out back
wishing for the past black out days.
These emotions spread like wildfire
miles away to the sea-saw I once admired from the ground
never getting higher.
And I've always been a two-headed girl but never a friend
and although I know it's a man's man's man's world
I know it now more than ever.
and every single night I morph more and more more
into Mrs. Robinson and I'm more and more and more
terrified every single **** mother ******* day.
I've had my one-life stand
and I'm settling for being confronted with my failures
though I have not confronted them.
And although every one else can enjoy swimming against the current I can't help but be the one breathing under water that ruins the trip to the lake.
What do I mean?
I never know.
I just want to be the king in a purple robe of velvet and satin asleep on a throne but I'm stuck asleep at my own feet waiting for someone to poke me
until it hurts.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 2:50 AM UTC
Ten minutes later,
the old crow's sitting quiet,
scratching,
no caws or that funny owl mimic trick he can do,
it's a hoot.
He laughs.
I know a preacher or two who say that regular,
as liturgy, it's a hoot,
here, all say amen,
preach it, if you be the choir
searching still the lost chord to charge your life.
Ain't God a Hoot?
Well, me bein' Baptist, 'n' all...
I 'as reared Mormon...
Baptized and confirmed, Catholic to the core...
Po' man at the door,
My daddy was abastard niggajew and Jesus
fixt me, as I was waitin' fo' m' man, wit Nico
and the band
t'find a
soft place
to die
on
velvet underground, feedback scream
are you
experienced? I scream,
Back for more?
Peace ends wars, don't push me with your
reasonable
casualty in aitia-tick-tick terms un de
cerned, fined, ground
past granulated to sublimated
breathe
Elysian fumes,
unexpected right,
Sulphur, you were going to say,
or brimstone,
or rotten egg,
Sweet suasion sweet sweet suasion
to slip into
geological time and drift away.
You know that smell?
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 2:37 PM UTC
VW buses headed to Haight
and Ashbury
In San Francisco to
meet a man
We brought the acid to
expand our consciousness
that's what Tim Leary suggested
And you need to feed your head
like Jefferson Airplane said
Just go ask Alice
Yes we brought the psychedelics
and our bus is painted
in pastel peace signs and
purple Shiva's
We wove flowers in our braid
we ran barefoot
and climbed the trees
They said that the hippies are dead
but The Grateful has yet to
perform their last gig
love love love, man
it's our religion
R.I.P John Lennon
***** Warhol's banana and
Campbell's soup
But we miss Lou Reed and Nico too
Yes the summer of love was in 67'
and Woodstock was a muddy heaven
We watched every episode of Laugh-In
but it wasn't always sunshine and dandelions
like when a runaway overdoses
from ******
It was a wave no one remembers
but to everything there is a season
Freaks with beards at the drive-in
R.I.P Janis Joplin
We were all California Dreamin'
Jack Kerouac the dharma ***
was friends with Neal Cassady
the other-worldly monad
A time of innocence
a time of confidences
And so we are here bumming
cigarettes and joints
with talk about the Manson Family
and Sharon Tate
We are all here so come along
but in the meantime
I'd love to turn you on.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC
You feelin a bit down, a bit overwhelmed, kinda like some sorta clown?
Well come along with me and a few of my friends,
we can turn you around
and flip this town upside down.
Say hi to Nico, she's very persuasive
although the ****** might be somewhat pervasive
and I don't blame ya if that ain't your scene
here's a buddy new, hello there Mr. Haller
slightly wolfish but not too mean.
What is reality?
Don't ask me man, I'm just along for the ride.
But give me a mirror and I'll show you everything
you do and don't wanna see.
If you've been lookin for something
that has no name and no identification
on a road to nowhere
and for madmen only, as they say
come along with we merry, twisted few.
Yeah we'll make something out of you,
and when people say "Go with God!",
you might respond with **** that. I don't go with God.
He's comin with me."
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
I keep thinking about this summer—about starting a new school—and as soon as I do, I find myself internally monologuing and getting all high-schooly. It’s hoot, I know, but I can’t seem to help it.
‘You know,’ I think, as I’m eyeing myself in the bathroom mirror, ‘I’ll just turn up, looking good, feeling confident about myself and do whatever I want. I’ll go out, meet people and just be that vibe.
I was conflabing with Lisa last night, as we painted our toenails, “I’m a sufficient person, right? I asked rhetorically, “I can work out my thoughts alone, happily pass periods of solitude—nourishing my soul on YouTube.. Ooo, I like that color,” I said.
“You have personal power,” she assured me, as we admired her new nail polish color.
Growing up, my parents moved us, like luggage, about every two years. You can’t just be like, “This is actually crazy.” You’re forced to make a start, with a certain callousness of spirit, because uprooting your day-to-day domestic life, leaving friends, is hard. But I’d end up ok, I integrate quickly, as I love dropping into new cultures—people are so nuanced and clever.
So I've done this before, I have ‘lived experience,’ and I guess I can do it again. Still, I have this, what, adolescent nervousness, where my mind is spinning—even in dreams—planning my new first-day wardrobe, like a middle schooler, three months in advance (I’m a pre-crastinator).
In my heart, I know the source of my untoward apprehension. Social precarity frightens me. I need other minds to rub up against and the constant stimulation and excitement of friends.
But I’m a 21 year old, grown woman—what’s wrong with me?
.
Songs for this:
These Days by Nico
find my way home MisterWives
Apr 1, 2025
Apr 1, 2025 at 1:01 AM UTC
Rain falls hard
Burns dry
A dream
Or a song
That hits you so hard
Filling you up
And suddenly gone
Breath Feel Love
Give Free
Know in your soul
Like your blood knows the way
From your heart to your brain
Know that you're whole
And you're shining
Like the brightest star
A transmission
On the midnight radio
And you're spinning
Like a 45
Ballerina
Dancing to your rock and roll
Here's to Patti
And Tina
And Yoko
Aretha
And Nona
And Nico
And me
And all the strange rock and rollers
You know you're doing all right
So hold on to each other
You gotta hold on tonight
And you're shining
Like the brightest stars
A transmission
On the midnight radio
And you're spinning
Your new 45's
All the misfits and the losers
Well,you know you're rock and rollers
Spinning to your rock and roll
Lift up your hands
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 12:35 AM UTC
all in the glory
a skin piece
melting down the sewer eyes
****
Columbus ave.
sickly "light"? grizzly stairs up the bridge
******* on the low stoopway
forget that corner and a glinting nametag, a dancer
stay here and run! don't do it again YES
who bends over in the streets
BAM!
"I wasn't watching I'm sorry"
"Oh, no need honey"
undress me
organic hair pitted down matted in a Tesla
Nikol, Nico
the watchburn and lion's breath purple dangling "in the car again?"
****
not again"
trunkbed aroma hitting
Des Moines!
or was it blue again?
who's sound is closer to the truth and who's taking the first shower?
get naked
I reach down for the stone
I feel the soft at its edges
cigarette soaring!
Waterloo
which of you suckers ruled England last year?
the weekend slowly sleeps
in the bay's gentle red cradle
Mother
fitting quietly
an alleyway above our heads
who?
Edward
a hand raises from the striped automobile
"Hey! **** out of the road!"
Chopin, the glissando with no lost word
the shattered beer bottle of 20 years, antiquity
glow into the sink
washing onward Barton and Lombard
Barton and Lombard
both streets unacting like the other
shards of melting black pavement lying so tight and close, the lovers of suburbia
...
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 6:14 PM UTC
she looked at every
arch of colors
with so much fascination
that her seamless doe eyes
became one with the
unification of the splashed canvas;
she held his hands
with so much gentleness
like she was holding
a small piece of origami,
crafted by sturdy hands
but fragile hearts,
weeping ever so slightly
at the sight of the
sun coming back up
even after the nights it said
goodbye.
she was an explosion of colors,
all at once,
that was always
too good to be true.
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 5:40 AM UTC
In the times of my fragile heart, I imagine myself at a train-stop, a faraway train-stop at 2 AM, or in a country not mine, listening to the streets and Nico, wondering when it will rain next, or one block away from here at the bar with wood panels, drinking blues on a Tuesday afternoon.
In the days after I left home, where my brothers sleep on torn couches, in paintless rooms or ripped wallpaper. The dishes there were always ***** The curtains were always closed and the living-room would be coated in darkness of day. The poor kids are fine, but so far from okay.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 12:55 PM UTC