"nodder" poems
I'm sorry
I can't be a bad boy
for you
I'm not the kind
of reclamation project
that women dream of
reclaiming
It's the attitude you crave
not the mood
I've been manufacturing
this bad boy body
for two months
Who am I fooling?
It's the mind
where the fantasies
and possibilities
take shape
Even though I've flashed
a knife at a bad boy
it doesn't matter
for I wasn't the bad boy
nor am I a rock star
or a pro athlete
or a student
who wears detention
like a badge of honour
I'm a ******* poet
and who wants a holder
of fantasies that have already
been disclosed?
I'm sorry
I'll make it up to you
I'll be the ear you require
when your heart is broken
I'll be the nodder
you require
when you need to make it clear
that all guys are *****
even though it was the *****
you were hypnotized by
in the first place
Bad boy body?
Bad boy language?
It's doesn't mean a ****
for it's all in the mind
Who am I fooling?
You'll be okay
for the sea is teeming
with jellyfish
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 6:54 AM UTC
Sleep
Is that you I see?
Why do you tempt me
With your beauty
Rest
Why do you massage my shoulders
Your touch soothes me
at the worst possible time
Relax
Your sweet words dance
Around my heavy head
Why are you lulling me into a
Deep
Deep
Slee-
WAKE UP
Class is still in session
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC
(Mouthwash, shaken up in the kitchen cabinet and lunch for two.)
I bottled every bit of sorry you gave me, even if the sentiment wasn't there and nothing you ever told me about the knives I took from you was true.
How could you take my sense of safety? How could you rob me of my intuition? How could you choke the life out of me?
You didn't have hands, not even claws, you had jaws the size of Arizona and a tongue so arid the flies didn't think to find the leftover bits of corpses in between your teeth.
Give me the truth.
What's wrong with you?
I just want you to once imagine, without ink on your skin, without the superficial cuts on your wrists, every lie you ever told to be more like everyone else, different, I want you to imagine the color of my eyes.
(You stripped me of my happiness, turpentine. Jail breaker. Head nodder. You erased my chances. Hope is the sunset. Hope is the sunset.)
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
A kerosene
Pharaoh leans
On barreled dreams
With feral teams
Using gasoline
To mask the screams
Of the last to breathe
On the path he weaves
His petrol
Gets sold
To fretful
Death droves
Chaos enfolds
Compounding tenfold
In this hell we’re stenciled
They’re fighting over a commodity
Using false dichotomies
Haughtily
Making others duel
Over fossil fuel
To say who rules
Which seems cruel
So they fill textbooks with lies
And put a gun in my hand
If I give a vexed look I’ll die
So I give in to their demands
I’m too blind to see
The refinery
Assigned to me
Is designed to be
The life I lead
For lies of greed
Making the sky bleed
We shoot chemicals into the sky
And deep into the ground
Never stopping to ask why
We hear a rumbling sound
And all the animals around
Have turned upside down
Getting oil
Is deadly toil
But not for the royal
Who’ve never touched soil
They’re too busy trying to foil
Anyone trying to save the planet
Anyone trying to use compassion
The prison door they slam it
Saying we don’t have enough rations
I become a head nodder
Eating lead fodder
As a pet otter
Clapping for treats
In shameless defeat
For the ruling elite
On a shrinking iceberg
Showing what my life earned
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 2:56 PM UTC