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"nope" poems
“Moby ****  Herman Melville <•> ~for the lost at sea~ after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence, return to the island caught between two land forks surrounded by river-heading flows bound for the ocean great joining the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools, bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances, peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls sea accepts them then drowns the warm newcomers in the unaccustomed deep cold salinity, which sometimes erodes sometimes preserving their former freshwater cold originality I’m called to depart my beach shoreline  unarmed, no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed, walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom, no depth perception limitation, reading the floor’s topography, millions of minion’s stories infinite, many Munch screaming god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders, a daytime travel guide, hired for me, not a friendly travel companion,  nope, God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation, designated for the masses, can handle large parties my in-camera brain  eyes, record everything for playback - the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles walk shore to ship, on soles to souls, is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting? puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness, conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep, is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence, my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored, older visions clarified and future poems will write themselves and sea to it my predecessors be better remembered Memorial Day 2018
0
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
“the sea... jeeringly...drowned the infinite of his soul...to wondrous depths...he saw God’s foot upon the treadle of the loom and spake it”
“Moby ****  Herman Melville <•> ~for the lost at sea~ after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence, return to the island caught between two land forks surrounded by river-heading flows bound for the ocean great joining the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools, bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances, peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls sea accepts them then drowns the warm newcomers in the unaccustomed deep cold salinity, which sometimes erodes sometimes preserving their former freshwater cold originality I’m called to depart my beach shoreline  unarmed, no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed, walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom, no depth perception limitation, reading the floor’s topography, millions of minion’s stories infinite, many Munch screaming god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders, a daytime travel guide, hired for me, not a friendly travel companion,  nope, God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation, designated for the masses, can handle large parties my in-camera brain  eyes, record everything for playback - the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles walk shore to ship, on soles to souls, is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting? puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness, conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep, is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence, my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored, older visions clarified and future poems will write themselves and sea to it my predecessors be better remembered Memorial Day 2018
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44
They didn't know what Diversity was... The kids, that is. Since the kids didn't know it, the teacher coined it as "“black” visibility". She wasn't sure if she could make that call so she nodded her head, looking for approval. The interviewer asked in what direction did the teacher see Diversity As if Diversity was a one-way street. Let me just refresh your memory... "“black” visibility" As if decades of progress in the schools were undone, The kids voted on Performances and Projects for “black” History Month. How shocking!... Kids of every shape, size, ability and race studying a time in history... Sounds racist to me. They wanted a Gospel Choir that is clearly only for “black” students Because I'm the student Director for the Fordham University's Rhythm of Praise Gospel Chior for the fourth year running... Maybe I'm missing something... MAYBE I'm “black”... Maybe if I close my eyes really tight... Nope, I'm still “white”. Olive brown perhaps? Only in the summer. Anyway, I digress like Sophia Patrilo from the Goldren Girls Who was Italian by the way. Just advertising for Diversity. Let's debate about "Music Debates" for a moment. Maybe you call it Debates because Hip Hop is debatable, and by the way only for “black” students. When I could argue for days upon days About how Reggaeton didn't come from Salsa but I know **** well that Salsa came first. The kids wanted to Stomp the Yard and battle it out. I do believe rap battles take place around the world And one of the best rappers I know is an English teacher in Harlem Whose hair is redder than a leprechaun. Talent Shows that showcase every student's ability Whether it be singing, dancing, performing their poetry, But still apparently that's not Diversity. Neither is an International Day Where International ways are celebrated. And finally, a Diversity Day, That clearly means diversity is separated. "They wanted a lot of things" Yeah. They asked for a whole lot... of everything BUT diversity. That's right, because they don't know what it means The Kids, that is... Then tell me please: Define Diversity. Is it seeing a “black” horse with “white” stripes Or a “white” horse with “black” stripes? Why is it between “black” and “white”? Why not between “white”, “black” brown, yellow, orange, brick red... Let's get it out of our head That teachers can't learn anything from their students, Because it sounds to me, Like they had a pretty good start to the meaning of Diversity. And if it turns out they didn't, That's what teachers are there for: Make a **** lesson about it.
0
Sep 26, 2011
Sep 26, 2011 at 2:16 PM UTC
"What is Diversity?"
They didn't know what Diversity was... The kids, that is. Since the kids didn't know it, the teacher coined it as "“black” visibility". She wasn't sure if she could make that call so she nodded her head, looking for approval. The interviewer asked in what direction did the teacher see Diversity As if Diversity was a one-way street. Let me just refresh your memory... "“black” visibility" As if decades of progress in the schools were undone, The kids voted on Performances and Projects for “black” History Month. How shocking!... Kids of every shape, size, ability and race studying a time in history... Sounds racist to me. They wanted a Gospel Choir that is clearly only for “black” students Because I'm the student Director for the Fordham University's Rhythm of Praise Gospel Chior for the fourth year running... Maybe I'm missing something... MAYBE I'm “black”... Maybe if I close my eyes really tight... Nope, I'm still “white”. Olive brown perhaps? Only in the summer. Anyway, I digress like Sophia Patrilo from the Goldren Girls Who was Italian by the way. Just advertising for Diversity. Let's debate about "Music Debates" for a moment. Maybe you call it Debates because Hip Hop is debatable, and by the way only for “black” students. When I could argue for days upon days About how Reggaeton didn't come from Salsa but I know **** well that Salsa came first. The kids wanted to Stomp the Yard and battle it out. I do believe rap battles take place around the world And one of the best rappers I know is an English teacher in Harlem Whose hair is redder than a leprechaun. Talent Shows that showcase every student's ability Whether it be singing, dancing, performing their poetry, But still apparently that's not Diversity. Neither is an International Day Where International ways are celebrated. And finally, a Diversity Day, That clearly means diversity is separated. "They wanted a lot of things" Yeah. They asked for a whole lot... of everything BUT diversity. That's right, because they don't know what it means The Kids, that is... Then tell me please: Define Diversity. Is it seeing a “black” horse with “white” stripes Or a “white” horse with “black” stripes? Why is it between “black” and “white”? Why not between “white”, “black” brown, yellow, orange, brick red... Let's get it out of our head That teachers can't learn anything from their students, Because it sounds to me, Like they had a pretty good start to the meaning of Diversity. And if it turns out they didn't, That's what teachers are there for: Make a **** lesson about it.
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57
Do You Ever Find … ? That Words Sometimes … KEEP On … " Runnin' " … Through Your Mind … ?!? Sometimes ... My Rhymes And Words Are … ...... STUNNING ….. !!!!! These Days I Find My Word Designs … Refine And Dine Just Like FINE Wine … !!! So Here's A Few To Give You … " Clues " ... of Some of The Ways My Wordplay Moves … Wordplay … ? Just … RIDICULOUS … !!! Volume … ? Straight Up … INFINITE … !!! Inception Is … " Synonymous " … With BIG VIRGE The … EPONYMOUS … !!!!! Conception … NOT …. " Inglorious " …. !!!!! ******* NOPE … ERRONEOUS … !!!!! My Use of Verse Is … " GLORIOUS " … !!!!! In Fact It's … " MERITORIOUS " . !!!!!!! Because It's TIGHT NOT Porous …. Chorus … NO … !!! Because It Flows … And Has NO PLACE In … ... " Talent Shows " … !!!!! TALENT ... ??? Whoooooaaaaa You'd Better KNOW … !!!!! What I Construct May One Day BLOW … !!! A Hole In ALL These Shows For … " Ho's " … !!!!! Prostitution …. NO …. !!! NOT How I Roll … !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talking of THOSE … NO TIME For Coc’ … !!! Or Yes … ******* … !!! Because My Nose ... Does NOT House Notes … !!!!! Where AIR Should Flow … !!!!! FLOWS … ?!? I Got …Those … !!! QUOTES That Rock Boats … !!! Races Places So Many Faces … Sometimes My Mind ... DEFINES … INVASIVE … WAIT ..................................................................... !!! I'm Just PLAYING And Relaying ... Words of Verse … From The Thoughts of … ….. " Big Virge " ….. !!! My Head … ??? It HURTS ... Just Like My Arm … !!! Because I Write … Like Those Who Fight … And Wear The Garms' … of Those Who Choose To ... YES … " Bear Arms " … ?!? Violent … NAH … !?! Big Virge Is … ….. Calm …............................................................. I'd Rather Charm … But PLEASE BE SMART … !!! Before My Words … Get In Your ... " CLAAT " … !!! Or Your …... " RASSHOLE' " ….. !!! Am I Bajan … ??? NO ... But Here's The Quote … I'm … ENGLISH Born … So Know of Their Scorn … !!!!! But Am Now REBORN … !!! With … CARIBBEAN Views … Just Down The Road … From My NEW Bedroom … !!!!! On BAJAN' Shores …. !!! NOT Cold But WARM … !!! I'm HAPPIER NOW … !!! That I Have FOUND … A Place For Myself … On My Parents' Ground … !!!!! Africa Next … ? Well … More or Less … So MUCH of This WORLD … !!!!! I Haven't Seen … YET … ?!? Girls … ?!?!? That's Where This Poem ENDS. SO MANY Look FINE But I Just Can't find … One Whose Down To … " Fool Around " … !!!!! With The Man … Big Virge ... ... " The Connoisseur of Spoken Words " ... I Guess That's Why … ? I Write These Rhymes … And Put In Verse … Words That … " Traverse " … That I NOW FIND … " Run Through My Mind " …..
0
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
"Run Through My Mind" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 20/12/2013
Do You Ever Find … ? That Words Sometimes … KEEP On … " Runnin' " … Through Your Mind … ?!? Sometimes ... My Rhymes And Words Are … ...... STUNNING ….. !!!!! These Days I Find My Word Designs … Refine And Dine Just Like FINE Wine … !!! So Here's A Few To Give You … " Clues " ... of Some of The Ways My Wordplay Moves … Wordplay … ? Just … RIDICULOUS … !!! Volume … ? Straight Up … INFINITE … !!! Inception Is … " Synonymous " … With BIG VIRGE The … EPONYMOUS … !!!!! Conception … NOT …. " Inglorious " …. !!!!! ******* NOPE … ERRONEOUS … !!!!! My Use of Verse Is … " GLORIOUS " … !!!!! In Fact It's … " MERITORIOUS " . !!!!!!! Because It's TIGHT NOT Porous …. Chorus … NO … !!! Because It Flows … And Has NO PLACE In … ... " Talent Shows " … !!!!! TALENT ... ??? Whoooooaaaaa You'd Better KNOW … !!!!! What I Construct May One Day BLOW … !!! A Hole In ALL These Shows For … " Ho's " … !!!!! Prostitution …. NO …. !!! NOT How I Roll … !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talking of THOSE … NO TIME For Coc’ … !!! Or Yes … ******* … !!! Because My Nose ... Does NOT House Notes … !!!!! Where AIR Should Flow … !!!!! FLOWS … ?!? I Got …Those … !!! QUOTES That Rock Boats … !!! Races Places So Many Faces … Sometimes My Mind ... DEFINES … INVASIVE … WAIT ..................................................................... !!! I'm Just PLAYING And Relaying ... Words of Verse … From The Thoughts of … ….. " Big Virge " ….. !!! My Head … ??? It HURTS ... Just Like My Arm … !!! Because I Write … Like Those Who Fight … And Wear The Garms' … of Those Who Choose To ... YES … " Bear Arms " … ?!? Violent … NAH … !?! Big Virge Is … ….. Calm …............................................................. I'd Rather Charm … But PLEASE BE SMART … !!! Before My Words … Get In Your ... " CLAAT " … !!! Or Your …... " RASSHOLE' " ….. !!! Am I Bajan … ??? NO ... But Here's The Quote … I'm … ENGLISH Born … So Know of Their Scorn … !!!!! But Am Now REBORN … !!! With … CARIBBEAN Views … Just Down The Road … From My NEW Bedroom … !!!!! On BAJAN' Shores …. !!! NOT Cold But WARM … !!! I'm HAPPIER NOW … !!! That I Have FOUND … A Place For Myself … On My Parents' Ground … !!!!! Africa Next … ? Well … More or Less … So MUCH of This WORLD … !!!!! I Haven't Seen … YET … ?!? Girls … ?!?!? That's Where This Poem ENDS. SO MANY Look FINE But I Just Can't find … One Whose Down To … " Fool Around " … !!!!! With The Man … Big Virge ... ... " The Connoisseur of Spoken Words " ... I Guess That's Why … ? I Write These Rhymes … And Put In Verse … Words That … " Traverse " … That I NOW FIND … " Run Through My Mind " …..
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97
the frustration I had after failing to bring myself to ****** for the tenth time this past week makes me more furious than depressed seriously my *** drive has always been high as soon as I got over the shame society places on women for enjoying their sexuality I have always used ************ as a release relieves stress leaves me relaxed and content or should I say, left me feeling that way usually it was once a day fairly frequent but, it matched my *** drive's needs what the **** is wrong with me I have tried imagining, watching, reading, looking at every form of erotica that exists I have searched through everything I can find from **** ****** stories, comics and my search history will let you know that I've searched everything from **** to ****** to interracial lesbian forced ******* and things worse than that e v e r y t h i n g used to take me, oh, I dunno maybe three minutes with my ******** after around an hour is when I give up now I even bought a different ******** NO RELEASE NO PASSION GONE what is WRONG WITH ME oh yeah - depression I mean I knew it was bad when video games no longer had appeal that was enough games have been a passion and a hobby of mine since I was five the other hobby I started a bit older than five but you stole that one, too after depression beat the **** out of me on Tuesday I thought that was it thought since the next morning I awoke without the urge to **** myself it was over nope you have robbed me of the simplest things in my life that give me pleasure no more wriggling moaning spasming the tingling sensation that starts in my toes and makes its way up the length of my body the warmness that follows with it the satisfaction slight smile snuggly sleepy post ****** me I miss her give her back I miss my life give it back this isn't ME for ***** sake! I am a ****** witty humorous creature full of passion looking for opportunities to get myself off! not this depressed apathetic vessel without soul. you won't stop until you have everything in my life you won't stop until you put my soul in your mouth chew grind crush it your saliva breaks me down spit me out please I am fighting for you to cough me up regurgitate the essence of me let me put myself back inside this body please please no you won't stop you will eat my soul until ever fiber protein ounce of health I had is now inside of you, depression cold-hearted *****
0
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
************ VIDEO GAMES AND DEPRESSION
the frustration I had after failing to bring myself to ****** for the tenth time this past week makes me more furious than depressed seriously my *** drive has always been high as soon as I got over the shame society places on women for enjoying their sexuality I have always used ************ as a release relieves stress leaves me relaxed and content or should I say, left me feeling that way usually it was once a day fairly frequent but, it matched my *** drive's needs what the **** is wrong with me I have tried imagining, watching, reading, looking at every form of erotica that exists I have searched through everything I can find from **** ****** stories, comics and my search history will let you know that I've searched everything from **** to ****** to interracial lesbian forced ******* and things worse than that e v e r y t h i n g used to take me, oh, I dunno maybe three minutes with my ******** after around an hour is when I give up now I even bought a different ******** NO RELEASE NO PASSION GONE what is WRONG WITH ME oh yeah - depression I mean I knew it was bad when video games no longer had appeal that was enough games have been a passion and a hobby of mine since I was five the other hobby I started a bit older than five but you stole that one, too after depression beat the **** out of me on Tuesday I thought that was it thought since the next morning I awoke without the urge to **** myself it was over nope you have robbed me of the simplest things in my life that give me pleasure no more wriggling moaning spasming the tingling sensation that starts in my toes and makes its way up the length of my body the warmness that follows with it the satisfaction slight smile snuggly sleepy post ****** me I miss her give her back I miss my life give it back this isn't ME for ***** sake! I am a ****** witty humorous creature full of passion looking for opportunities to get myself off! not this depressed apathetic vessel without soul. you won't stop until you have everything in my life you won't stop until you put my soul in your mouth chew grind crush it your saliva breaks me down spit me out please I am fighting for you to cough me up regurgitate the essence of me let me put myself back inside this body please please no you won't stop you will eat my soul until ever fiber protein ounce of health I had is now inside of you, depression cold-hearted *****
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196
Most schools have projects, in science classes and such. Most of us, mastered the science of surviving in projects. It's those at the bottom who need the most help, but cant even get proper school supplies.. where's the logic ?. But oh, the rags to riches story is prevalent isn't it? Nope, the only rich I know is Professor Richard. And that's not even something worth mentioning, he does more lessening than lessons lets paint the picture.. But these young kids don't understand, they try to curse them, place them in prisons, its a trap from birth.. Give them these Rick Rosses as role models, knowing they don't have fathers, instead of Tupac Shakur, showing them worth.. My bestfriend Tony once questioned his dark skin, just like i once questioned my brown. how profound, a couple 4th graders at the time, having to prove that they were "down". Crazy how Tony proved he was down, now i visit his site yearly on November the third. And things aren't getting better, but nobody gives a **** haven't you heard.. The prayers our mothers chant, ritually every night. Praying to the Sun gods, perhaps one day we'll all unite. -afj
0
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC
Melanin Societies.
I'm looking deep into her eyes *Looking into her eyes... is like opening a door that leads... to another door* Wait..really?  OK...I open the door. *This door leads to a long, winding path, like the winding path of your love.   The path leads to a third door* O...K. I open the door. *This door leads to a spiral staircase descending down, down, down,  deep into her soul. At the bottom of the staircase is--* A door? A door. I open the door The door is locked.  The key might be under the mat Seriously?  I check under the mat Nope, not there.  Maybe try under the small rock next to the door Oh for the love of...I check the rock There is a key Wonderful...I unlock and open the door *Inside this door is a large atrium the glass ceiling giving way to a beautiful summer night, the stars twinkling in the distance.  At the far end of the Atrium, there is a curtain* Sigh I pull aside the curtain There is a door Come on!  I open the ruddy door. *You find yourself in a long hallway, with fine art hanging along the walls. Crimson carpet lines the floor. At the end of the hall is a door  locked with a combination biometric fingerprint scanner/retinal scanner* What. *You have 10 seconds to unlock the door before the hunter-bots de-atomize you* What!?  Ok! I try my fingerprints and eye! *The door unlocks and the hunter-bots stand down. In the next room are three vials.  Two of them contain terrible neuro-toxins that will lead to an excruciatingly painful death.  The third will allow you to continue on to the next room.  You have 30 seconds to choose before you are terminated* What the hell is this!? This is the path to true love hidden deep in her eyes No, this is insanity! 15 seconds OK!  Geez!  Umm..Vial Number 2! You're totally dead Oh god! Just kidding.  None of them had poison...was just messing with you THAT'S IT!  I'M DONE WITH THIS Really?  There's only one more door.  I swear ...Fine.  What ridiculous thing do I need to do to open it. *It's already open.  You find yourself in a circular room with a pedestal in the center.  On the pedestal is a hand written note.  On that note is the key to everlasting happiness* I pick up the note *You smell sweet hints of your beloved's perfume and notice the care that each word of the note was written.* What does the note say? *My love: Next Tuesday Only --  Buy One-Get One Free at J.J's Pizza.  Cannot be combined with any other offers/coupons.  Must present coupon upon purchase.  Expires 1/14/14* ...An expired coupon for Pizza? Such a wonderful expression of love! How do I get out of here... You see a door .
0
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
Deep in her Eyes
I'm looking deep into her eyes *Looking into her eyes... is like opening a door that leads... to another door* Wait..really?  OK...I open the door. *This door leads to a long, winding path, like the winding path of your love.   The path leads to a third door* O...K. I open the door. *This door leads to a spiral staircase descending down, down, down,  deep into her soul. At the bottom of the staircase is--* A door? A door. I open the door The door is locked.  The key might be under the mat Seriously?  I check under the mat Nope, not there.  Maybe try under the small rock next to the door Oh for the love of...I check the rock There is a key Wonderful...I unlock and open the door *Inside this door is a large atrium the glass ceiling giving way to a beautiful summer night, the stars twinkling in the distance.  At the far end of the Atrium, there is a curtain* Sigh I pull aside the curtain There is a door Come on!  I open the ruddy door. *You find yourself in a long hallway, with fine art hanging along the walls. Crimson carpet lines the floor. At the end of the hall is a door  locked with a combination biometric fingerprint scanner/retinal scanner* What. *You have 10 seconds to unlock the door before the hunter-bots de-atomize you* What!?  Ok! I try my fingerprints and eye! *The door unlocks and the hunter-bots stand down. In the next room are three vials.  Two of them contain terrible neuro-toxins that will lead to an excruciatingly painful death.  The third will allow you to continue on to the next room.  You have 30 seconds to choose before you are terminated* What the hell is this!? This is the path to true love hidden deep in her eyes No, this is insanity! 15 seconds OK!  Geez!  Umm..Vial Number 2! You're totally dead Oh god! Just kidding.  None of them had poison...was just messing with you THAT'S IT!  I'M DONE WITH THIS Really?  There's only one more door.  I swear ...Fine.  What ridiculous thing do I need to do to open it. *It's already open.  You find yourself in a circular room with a pedestal in the center.  On the pedestal is a hand written note.  On that note is the key to everlasting happiness* I pick up the note *You smell sweet hints of your beloved's perfume and notice the care that each word of the note was written.* What does the note say? *My love: Next Tuesday Only --  Buy One-Get One Free at J.J's Pizza.  Cannot be combined with any other offers/coupons.  Must present coupon upon purchase.  Expires 1/14/14* ...An expired coupon for Pizza? Such a wonderful expression of love! How do I get out of here... You see a door .
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71
I like your eyes. Your eyes are so blue. God, I just love your eyes. Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes? Nope. Never. You’re a great kisser. Where did you learn to kiss like that? From other guys? You know, you're smart. You might be smarter than me. Is that my cue to leave? You want to hang out? What do you want to do? You eat meat, right? Ok — good. Would you dump me if I didn’t? I like your shirt — it’s open in the back. Really? I wasn’t aware. I looove your *** It’s just like mmmm (cups imaginary *** Yea. I know. (After *** Wow. I feel great. Cool. Thanks. (After *** You finished right? Nope. You are so young. Hmm, what happens when I get old?
0
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
These are all direct quotes
she: what is it about me? he: what do you mean? she: me...? he: uh... she: what don't i have? he: uh... she: i'm overweight... he: um... she: i'm unattractive he: what?... she: i'm boring he: no... she: i'm dumb he: uh, well.... she: i give up he: well, i.... she: nope, that's it, i give up he: oh, come on... she: quit trying to talk me out of it he: i was only... she: i'm done, good bye he: wait, what, where are you... she: have a good life he:..... he:.... he: what about dinner?
0
Sep 1, 2019
Sep 1, 2019 at 4:27 PM UTC
the relationship
It’s 6:15pm. Peter, Anna, Sophy and I are studying in the common room of our suite. “We need to get serious,” Peter whispered, but there was no subject in the declaration, so I was left confused and uncommitted, “about getting serious,” he clarified. “I’m not sure I can get serious about a guy who doesn’t separate whites and darks in the laundry,” I say, gently. “No,” he said, shaking his head in brief vibration, “we need to get serious about DINNER.” “Oh!” I said, maybe a little too relieved. “Ha!” He chortled, “YOU overthink everything!” He said, nodding his head up and down to prove it was true. “And speaking of laundry,” he continued, seeing me start to open my mouth, “the other night YOU asked me if your pastel purple ******* should go with the whites or darks - so I must be an EXPERT!” I laughed at the idea of his laundry expertise, sailing in from out of the purple like that, it was haywire. “Well,” I said, becoming introspective, “I didn’t know you’d hold onto that question like a grudge,” I said, in quiet, wounded accusation, “from now ON, maybe you should stay as far away from my ******* as possible.” “What are you two grousing about NOW?” Anna asked, looking up from her computer. “You guys are like an old married couple.” “True THAT.” Sophie said, like a judge right before knocking her gavel to finalize a ruling. “We weren’t arguing!” I said, looking around confusedly. I looked at Peter, who was smiling broadly, “Were we?” “Nope,” he said, wrapping his arm around me in a bearhug, “we were flirting.”
0
Sep 22, 2022
Sep 22, 2022 at 2:43 PM UTC
pastel purple
It’s 6:15pm. Peter, Anna, Sophy and I are studying in the common room of our suite. “We need to get serious,” Peter whispered, but there was no subject in the declaration, so I was left confused and uncommitted, “about getting serious,” he clarified. “I’m not sure I can get serious about a guy who doesn’t separate whites and darks in the laundry,” I say, gently. “No,” he said, shaking his head in brief vibration, “we need to get serious about DINNER.” “Oh!” I said, maybe a little too relieved. “Ha!” He chortled, “YOU overthink everything!” He said, nodding his head up and down to prove it was true. “And speaking of laundry,” he continued, seeing me start to open my mouth, “the other night YOU asked me if your pastel purple ******* should go with the whites or darks - so I must be an EXPERT!” I laughed at the idea of his laundry expertise, sailing in from out of the purple like that, it was haywire. “Well,” I said, becoming introspective, “I didn’t know you’d hold onto that question like a grudge,” I said, in quiet, wounded accusation, “from now ON, maybe you should stay as far away from my ******* as possible.” “What are you two grousing about NOW?” Anna asked, looking up from her computer. “You guys are like an old married couple.” “True THAT.” Sophie said, like a judge right before knocking her gavel to finalize a ruling. “We weren’t arguing!” I said, looking around confusedly. I looked at Peter, who was smiling broadly, “Were we?” “Nope,” he said, wrapping his arm around me in a bearhug, “we were flirting.”
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11
I sit alone in the dark Will you turn on the light Will you burn oh so bright So I learn to feel right? Overcome by the fright Now my chest's feeling tight I scream into the night What is wrong and what's right? From the shadow's, a glow Hear a voice I don't know My own fairytale show? Nope, it's just an echo (echo) (echo)
0
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 9:55 PM UTC
Echo
Daddy liked his whiskey Momma liked her smokes Momma cursed like crazy Dad told ***** jokes To all the people 'round here They was ordinary folks Momma puffed on camels Dad drank whiskey cokes I dropped out of high school By the time I was fourteen I had no direction And I got mighty mean Sis, she had two babies But neither one was seen And to all the people 'round here We were just both normal teens The apple doesn't fall far from the tree You do not want to grow and be like me Listen to what I tell you, don't you do the things you see The apple doesn't fall far from the tree Nope, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree When ever there is fighting Folks 'round here go blind They all have got their secrets they don't want us to find That apples in around their house Are not quite as designed It's best to look at others For the truth, it isn't kind Momma kept on smoking Daddy drank his rye sis and I both left here No one ever asked them why Nothing changes ever so nobody will try and all the folks around here live inside this little lie The apple doesn't fall far from the tree You do not want to grow and be like me Listen to what I tell you, don't you do the things you see The apple doesn't fall far from the tree Nope, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree
0
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 11:19 AM UTC
Apple doesn't fall far from the tree
the earth is curved - sure y’all knew that.   but to get to the Northwest, Interstate 84 ain’t le route plus directe nope curve north to Ontario, wave to Bex as I cross over London and Toronto, also can’t recall which poet from Rochester hails, or did they shuffle off to Buffalo? Crossing Erie, Huron, and Michigan Great Lakes all, brings to mind my mother’s birthplace, Last of the Mohicans, and the three years I did in the Cleveland Penitentiary, where sun was illegal and baseball was a pretend play of cowboys and Indians but by god, it made me the penitent fella I am today Look skyward to Montreal, yes, there he is, the Leo Priest, the baffled king, blessing this poetic meet ‘n greet trip with a smiling unsurprising hallelujah Apparently some US citizens still can traverse O Canada, even if one forgot their passports, and are not PNG’s (Persons Not so GREAT) over Minneapolis shed a tear for Diane, a poet- gone-missing, and wonder if you reader come from St. Cloud, Fargo or Duluth, Bismarck or Aberdeen, surely they still speak poetic English there in a twangy metering methodology  - well, message me asap wow there really is a Saskatoon! the pilot asks us to lean left in our seats to help turn the plane so we go to Portland and not to Vancouver... me thinks he might be a touch Rockie Mountain High, considering we are at 30 thousand something Imperial, as he walks the main cabin with an oxygen mask and a huuuuuge grin see the distant Cascades through a crack in the shuttered windows, must be close to “the coast” (as if, harrumph, there were but one) ah, words in the clouds, ripe for the plucking must be getting close to Oregon, where poets grow on trees, woody words like **** and log-float poems down the Columbia to the sea gonna drink me some poets under the table cause this trip I ain’t no driving and I am already “flying” ‘n scribing and arriving on a high tide and a good wind
0
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 5:47 AM UTC
Songs of Going to Oregon: No. 2 But Who Knew?
the earth is curved - sure y’all knew that.   but to get to the Northwest, Interstate 84 ain’t le route plus directe nope curve north to Ontario, wave to Bex as I cross over London and Toronto, also can’t recall which poet from Rochester hails, or did they shuffle off to Buffalo? Crossing Erie, Huron, and Michigan Great Lakes all, brings to mind my mother’s birthplace, Last of the Mohicans, and the three years I did in the Cleveland Penitentiary, where sun was illegal and baseball was a pretend play of cowboys and Indians but by god, it made me the penitent fella I am today Look skyward to Montreal, yes, there he is, the Leo Priest, the baffled king, blessing this poetic meet ‘n greet trip with a smiling unsurprising hallelujah Apparently some US citizens still can traverse O Canada, even if one forgot their passports, and are not PNG’s (Persons Not so GREAT) over Minneapolis shed a tear for Diane, a poet- gone-missing, and wonder if you reader come from St. Cloud, Fargo or Duluth, Bismarck or Aberdeen, surely they still speak poetic English there in a twangy metering methodology  - well, message me asap wow there really is a Saskatoon! the pilot asks us to lean left in our seats to help turn the plane so we go to Portland and not to Vancouver... me thinks he might be a touch Rockie Mountain High, considering we are at 30 thousand something Imperial, as he walks the main cabin with an oxygen mask and a huuuuuge grin see the distant Cascades through a crack in the shuttered windows, must be close to “the coast” (as if, harrumph, there were but one) ah, words in the clouds, ripe for the plucking must be getting close to Oregon, where poets grow on trees, woody words like **** and log-float poems down the Columbia to the sea gonna drink me some poets under the table cause this trip I ain’t no driving and I am already “flying” ‘n scribing and arriving on a high tide and a good wind
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53
Nope, don't do it show me mountains I can't climb Don't, dare a darer and tell me, it won't rhyme Can't be a place on earth I can't go, examine, or explore Holding, or finding the keys I'll open each, and every door Willingly not an option dropping thoughts or words, into my mind Questing for perplexing if it can't be prosed, a way, is what I'll find
0
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 10:43 AM UTC
Enigmatically Imperfect
A beer can, phone book, a grapefruit and an Advent wreath with four candles in its nest of greens Two weeks Two lit Third one's the Pink a life three quarters spent? Next weekend Saturday-- The Sabbath falls in Hanukkah “Blessed art thou, Lord our God King of the universe who dost create lights of fire...” I'll light that third-- the pink one like a barbarian wise woman who traveled too far along life's way to find a Jewish baby, wrapped in rags ...or, was it the old guy that night lying in the street outside a New England bar “Oh Christ! Ya gotta be kidding me!” Nope, He was there alright Wallowing in the freezing slush amid his helpless drunken cries No cell phones then Scrapped my pizza plans On foot alone waving in frustration   in the passing headlights a turquoise, wind-crazed scarecrow ______ “Someone's gotta stop? Someone has to help us, don't they?” ______ Now there are two beer cans a grapefruit, and a phone book beside the advent wreath Third candle lit and leaning out for hope along the way
0
Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 3:05 PM UTC
Advent Still Life
There is no moral code When time is an icy road Where you cannot stop Or you'll be stuck in the cold ground When the temperature drops Snow collects in my frosty frown And starts to linger On my frostbite fingers While I keep sliding On the line we're riding I see icy roads Leading to icy modes Of acting Impacting The way we treat each other The same way we beat each other To the finish line Of our frigid time Time isn't nice When it's ice But it's all we know Time continually goes The challenges grow Buried in snow Trying to go uphill is a nasty nope Sliding downhill is a slippery slope If you momentarily lose your control You're pulled over by the cops on patrol Everything is covered in snow Even the cars being towed Their owners gave away their agency And are at the tow truck driver's mercy They rely on him to get them to safety So they cunningly wear his jersey There are things we want Acquired by tease and taunt We drive on top of bodies To gain traction on the street We do what is naughty To have enough to eat I careen through time Without seeing a dime Everything looks so plain In this frozen rain When the ordinary life Is within my sight I look for something more Only to see a frozen door There is ice on the road There is ice in my heart I can't handle the load In the back of my cart Until I decide To abide By the slide And glide On the edge of control and freedom There are other cars and I'll lead them
0
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
Icy
I once found that, Elusive, 'silent blip', It was deep inside, Hiding all the time, Lying in my mind, As I lie to myself, What a fool I am. On realization, It pops, vanishes, The feeling remains, Demons, those emotions, Haunting, wracking, savaging, Biting at the soul, Hacking me to death. Please, give it back, That inner-silence, I’m sorry, so sorry, I was young, stupid, Welcomed seduction, Now though, older, Wisdom exposes truth. No going back, Nope, one bite only, When passion screams, We hear nothing else, We choose not to hear, I once found that, Elusive, 'silent blip'. Goodbye everybody. © Paul Chafer 2014
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Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 6:36 AM UTC
Deep Thought
i just want to know has my life been worth the fight. i have died a thousand times, just wondering. am i really cut out to be something? am i going to make a change? nope, probably not. i don't matter to people. one day i'll be gone and dalton and morgan and meagan and stefanie and zac will all forget about me. the only reason they talk to me is because i let it slip that i was feeling particularly suicidal that day. the stories didn't help, i don't care about how you got kicked out of school for a month for showing up trashed. it's not the same as what i go through. i appreciate the effort but please stop. one day i'll be gone, and dalton and morgan and meagan and stefanie and zac, will forget about me. oh how i hate fourth block math.
0
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
algebra two.
Waiting for the summer heat to eclipse the somber thread of one day, an old man is gifted a brand new pair of sneakers. Father, Son, Holy Ghost? The pinnacle of the "y" axis has paralyzed the saltiness of the old man's overcoat. "Grand dad?" A young boy turns the corner and peeks in while the old man leans over in his chair to reach his feet and lace his sneaks. "You were breathing loudly and I was just making sure you're okay." The boy continued, "cool sneakers grandpa." This reminded the boy of a new student in his class who moved here from Scotland, or Ireland - he couldn't remember which. Guess what the new kid in my class calls his sneakers?" The grandfather looks up and leans back, "he doesn't call them sneakers?" "Nope" the boy replies. "I would imagine he must call them shoes, or something like that." "Not even close. He calls them 'runners'. He came into class one day with a pair of red sneakers and Miss Kerrington had him stand up in front of class to talk about them. She said that people in England probably call them runners as a nickname for running shoes." The old man stood up with a groan and said, "That makes sense. It seems a bit odd, but I like it. As a matter of fact, I am gonna start using that to refer to all sneakers. What do you say we go for a walk around the block so I can break these puppies in? We'll stop for some rootbeer on the way home." The two of them set out on their walk and the old man felt invigorated. As they continued, a light rain began and the old man said, "lets get to the store, this rain'll do damage to my new suedes." When they finally made it to the store, the old man rushed in the door pushing his grandson out of the way. Upon his entrance his eyes met with the shopkeeper's. The shopkeeper's eyes shifted to the young boy coming in behind the man. At this moment the grandfather realized that he pushed his grandson aside in his haste to get inside the store and out of the rain. The shopkeeper turned his attention back to the grandfather who shrugged his shoulders before gesturing to his feet with a smile and said, "I'm breaking in a new pair of runners. They're not gonna dry off as easily as he does."
0
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
Static Viking: New Land Conquered
Waiting for the summer heat to eclipse the somber thread of one day, an old man is gifted a brand new pair of sneakers. Father, Son, Holy Ghost? The pinnacle of the "y" axis has paralyzed the saltiness of the old man's overcoat. "Grand dad?" A young boy turns the corner and peeks in while the old man leans over in his chair to reach his feet and lace his sneaks. "You were breathing loudly and I was just making sure you're okay." The boy continued, "cool sneakers grandpa." This reminded the boy of a new student in his class who moved here from Scotland, or Ireland - he couldn't remember which. Guess what the new kid in my class calls his sneakers?" The grandfather looks up and leans back, "he doesn't call them sneakers?" "Nope" the boy replies. "I would imagine he must call them shoes, or something like that." "Not even close. He calls them 'runners'. He came into class one day with a pair of red sneakers and Miss Kerrington had him stand up in front of class to talk about them. She said that people in England probably call them runners as a nickname for running shoes." The old man stood up with a groan and said, "That makes sense. It seems a bit odd, but I like it. As a matter of fact, I am gonna start using that to refer to all sneakers. What do you say we go for a walk around the block so I can break these puppies in? We'll stop for some rootbeer on the way home." The two of them set out on their walk and the old man felt invigorated. As they continued, a light rain began and the old man said, "lets get to the store, this rain'll do damage to my new suedes." When they finally made it to the store, the old man rushed in the door pushing his grandson out of the way. Upon his entrance his eyes met with the shopkeeper's. The shopkeeper's eyes shifted to the young boy coming in behind the man. At this moment the grandfather realized that he pushed his grandson aside in his haste to get inside the store and out of the rain. The shopkeeper turned his attention back to the grandfather who shrugged his shoulders before gesturing to his feet with a smile and said, "I'm breaking in a new pair of runners. They're not gonna dry off as easily as he does."
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11
I was in trouble And oh boy did I know it I came home drunk last night the hangover showed it As I crawled out of bed, headache splitting my eyes I saw my wife with that "I love you but I'm going to **** you" vibe, but she held it in and on her face a look of concern was her guise I hurled for about an hour then my stomach settled down I looked for my wife but she was nowhere to be found I drank some water, and soon after hit the floor before I slipped into unconsciousness I saw my wife come through the door I woke up, and took in my surroundings I was in a dark , medium sized room caged in, and the floor was concrete.. And in walked my wife, with a crop and a corset on that hourglass body, she looked ready for a pounding I wondered.. what the hell was going on? how did she know I wanted to try this... when did I let it on? She walked into the room, I was tied to the bed, but before whacking me, she surveyed me instead She walked slowly around me My eyes drinking in her features, She whacked me in my chest and said Look here boy, I'm going to tease you She slid the corset down, showing one ****** off, I was now hard where I once was soft She licked herself slowly Me getting aroused all the more I knew my wife was the experimental type but even she didn't know what was in store She slid those ******* down My God she was so wet She slid her finger inside and said "Nope, you can't have this yet" I shook with anticipation. Pleading with her through my eyes She remained adamant and continued weaving an arousing web, all truth here, I can't tell any lies. She slid my pants off my legs And threw them to the floor She got on top of me and yelled today you're my personal manwhore! with that I found myself inside, bouncing on my cxck I had never seen her this aggressive it came off as quite a shock After an hour and hundreds of welts later it Appeared she was done with me that's when she layed next to me and whispered "Happy Anniversary"!
0
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
My Memory Is Horrible **** Sunday)
I was in trouble And oh boy did I know it I came home drunk last night the hangover showed it As I crawled out of bed, headache splitting my eyes I saw my wife with that "I love you but I'm going to **** you" vibe, but she held it in and on her face a look of concern was her guise I hurled for about an hour then my stomach settled down I looked for my wife but she was nowhere to be found I drank some water, and soon after hit the floor before I slipped into unconsciousness I saw my wife come through the door I woke up, and took in my surroundings I was in a dark , medium sized room caged in, and the floor was concrete.. And in walked my wife, with a crop and a corset on that hourglass body, she looked ready for a pounding I wondered.. what the hell was going on? how did she know I wanted to try this... when did I let it on? She walked into the room, I was tied to the bed, but before whacking me, she surveyed me instead She walked slowly around me My eyes drinking in her features, She whacked me in my chest and said Look here boy, I'm going to tease you She slid the corset down, showing one ****** off, I was now hard where I once was soft She licked herself slowly Me getting aroused all the more I knew my wife was the experimental type but even she didn't know what was in store She slid those ******* down My God she was so wet She slid her finger inside and said "Nope, you can't have this yet" I shook with anticipation. Pleading with her through my eyes She remained adamant and continued weaving an arousing web, all truth here, I can't tell any lies. She slid my pants off my legs And threw them to the floor She got on top of me and yelled today you're my personal manwhore! with that I found myself inside, bouncing on my cxck I had never seen her this aggressive it came off as quite a shock After an hour and hundreds of welts later it Appeared she was done with me that's when she layed next to me and whispered "Happy Anniversary"!
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51
I don't have any emotions anymore Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m having a feeling Or I am dreaming, while I am awake? Some might think that my mind is exploring my emotions while looking for happiness, So I decided to bake a melodrama cake Nope! I meant mel-o-cream butter pound cake The ingredient is my path to getting my feelings back Egg, butter, flour, sugar, raisins, baking powder and a little milk I just want to transfer my feeling, with some logical thinking..   Somewhere, deep within a non stanzaic, and syllabic poem forms by the minute It’s going to trend like this cake, which is going to be bake with love Poetry is everywhere, creaming my butter and sugar is poetic because butter and sugar never stick together. It also reminds me of Nana’s golden brown patties, tasty and spicy Adding the eggs, nutmeg, baking powder, brings out the natural female traits in this Island girl, without my empowering dreads The raisins and the baking powder remind me of The Rise of Radical African American Activism, And all that rises, rise in due degree so poetry is everywhere it's  in everything we say and do.
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Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 9:03 AM UTC
I don't know If I 'm Having A Feeling
So there’s this woodpecker He pecks all day Peck Peck Peck Peck Peck Peck Pecks his life away Ever seen him stop and wonder? At the glories of the world and beyond? Did you ever see? Him staring at a tree And thinking about Joyce Kilmer? Nope, can’t recall Any such incident So why should I stop And smell the flowers I don’t see Why should I write a poem As beautiful as a tree When no one else gives a **** I should be hanging around friends Rolling joints with the money for my rent I should be the eternal narcissist Like the one who sits above But we’ll come to him later Right now what I wanna know Is what gives me the right to control Everything I see And everything I don’t Coz frankly speaking There’s a lot I don’t know What gives me the right To play with someone’s life And blame it on ignorance? I thought someone could tell me Someone could answer The stupidest question in the world But if I ask someone Why they’re doing something They all say the same thing Coz everyone else is. Good. So now we’ve got that cleared. I’m doing what I’m doing Because everyone else is doing what they’re doing And everyone else is doing what they’re doing Because I’m doing what I’m doing To sum it up, None of us know what any of us is doing Or why they’re doing it. Looks like we evolved backwards. At least the apes knew what they were doing. Sleep. Eat. **** Have *** Sleep. That simple collection of words got what the people Who call themselves the brainiest guys in the world didn’t: Logic. And I’ll tell you why they didn’t get it Because they were the birdbrains Who came up with the idea of a nuclear bomb Which has really set the bar for human stupidity No one can surpass that. Because the ‘logic’ behind the nuclear bomb is “You give me what I want Or I’ll blow up your country” People in the highest position of their respective countries Spent money exceeding ten times the number of their population On such nuclear bombs. Which, in fact, they’ll never use. True story. Tell you the truth, I’d rather be a woodpecker.
0
Jun 6, 2012
Jun 6, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
I'd rather be a woodpecker
So there’s this woodpecker He pecks all day Peck Peck Peck Peck Peck Peck Pecks his life away Ever seen him stop and wonder? At the glories of the world and beyond? Did you ever see? Him staring at a tree And thinking about Joyce Kilmer? Nope, can’t recall Any such incident So why should I stop And smell the flowers I don’t see Why should I write a poem As beautiful as a tree When no one else gives a **** I should be hanging around friends Rolling joints with the money for my rent I should be the eternal narcissist Like the one who sits above But we’ll come to him later Right now what I wanna know Is what gives me the right to control Everything I see And everything I don’t Coz frankly speaking There’s a lot I don’t know What gives me the right To play with someone’s life And blame it on ignorance? I thought someone could tell me Someone could answer The stupidest question in the world But if I ask someone Why they’re doing something They all say the same thing Coz everyone else is. Good. So now we’ve got that cleared. I’m doing what I’m doing Because everyone else is doing what they’re doing And everyone else is doing what they’re doing Because I’m doing what I’m doing To sum it up, None of us know what any of us is doing Or why they’re doing it. Looks like we evolved backwards. At least the apes knew what they were doing. Sleep. Eat. **** Have *** Sleep. That simple collection of words got what the people Who call themselves the brainiest guys in the world didn’t: Logic. And I’ll tell you why they didn’t get it Because they were the birdbrains Who came up with the idea of a nuclear bomb Which has really set the bar for human stupidity No one can surpass that. Because the ‘logic’ behind the nuclear bomb is “You give me what I want Or I’ll blow up your country” People in the highest position of their respective countries Spent money exceeding ten times the number of their population On such nuclear bombs. Which, in fact, they’ll never use. True story. Tell you the truth, I’d rather be a woodpecker.
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67
"Have you talked to dad, since you've been at school?" "Nope." "Are you coming home for thanksgiving?" "I don't know." Josephina breathes in a crackle over the phone. New York, a cacophony in the background. A background of cold, and people talking while walking while hailing a yellowcab with a left and slow-rolling heads locked onto the phones in their right. These people enter taxis, not knowing if they're ever going to reach home, or the airport, or union square, just going on the promise that they won't become road-kill. I can't feel it in my yellow apartment. If anything, my yellowcab idles. Through the receiver A squad car rings nervously, then after a lungful of garbage-smelling air, it becomes a full blare. A pause of noise always ensues, just for a second, the entire corner becomes a silent silo of human beings. "How's new york?" "you know, dad called me and asked about how to get on a diet, can you believe that?" Yes, I can dad is a fat **** a pink, white belly of a man. And a few sandbags for chins. "That's good." "So I'm not going to see you?" "Probably not." "Well, you should call dad, talk to him, he loves you." Some conversations, acheive nothing. The same tired, dead things get run over. Road-kill. Josephina believes she is the spatula that will bring back pancake squirrels and pancake relationships. As much as you don't know about me and dad's relationship, I can give you a kodak moment. A snapshot, of a hovering man, pointing at his son's neck, searching for the misplaced vertebrae, the lack of fear for the world --"the right kind of fear, the fear a man should have of himself"-- and a son, hunched, small hands in fists, a heavy haul of muscles pulled into a dark brow right over black eyes. This picture will suffice.
0
Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 4:59 PM UTC
Pancake Squirrels.
"Have you talked to dad, since you've been at school?" "Nope." "Are you coming home for thanksgiving?" "I don't know." Josephina breathes in a crackle over the phone. New York, a cacophony in the background. A background of cold, and people talking while walking while hailing a yellowcab with a left and slow-rolling heads locked onto the phones in their right. These people enter taxis, not knowing if they're ever going to reach home, or the airport, or union square, just going on the promise that they won't become road-kill. I can't feel it in my yellow apartment. If anything, my yellowcab idles. Through the receiver A squad car rings nervously, then after a lungful of garbage-smelling air, it becomes a full blare. A pause of noise always ensues, just for a second, the entire corner becomes a silent silo of human beings. "How's new york?" "you know, dad called me and asked about how to get on a diet, can you believe that?" Yes, I can dad is a fat **** a pink, white belly of a man. And a few sandbags for chins. "That's good." "So I'm not going to see you?" "Probably not." "Well, you should call dad, talk to him, he loves you." Some conversations, acheive nothing. The same tired, dead things get run over. Road-kill. Josephina believes she is the spatula that will bring back pancake squirrels and pancake relationships. As much as you don't know about me and dad's relationship, I can give you a kodak moment. A snapshot, of a hovering man, pointing at his son's neck, searching for the misplaced vertebrae, the lack of fear for the world --"the right kind of fear, the fear a man should have of himself"-- and a son, hunched, small hands in fists, a heavy haul of muscles pulled into a dark brow right over black eyes. This picture will suffice.
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98
Dear Hot Straight Actresses, Stop playing perfect lesbian characters on TV that cause me to become wet on lonely Thursday nights. It’s the equivalent of waving double chocolate fudge cake in front of a menstruating woman who has just been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. To name a few, Jennifer Beals as Bette Porter on The L Word. Stop it! Naya Rivera as the sassy Santana Lopez on Glee. Stop it! Angie Harmon as butch goddess Detective Jane Rizzoli on Rizzoli & Isles. You may be in the closet but you are gay and stop! And Sara Ramirez and Jessica Capshaw as the married ****** Dr. Cali Torrez and Dr. Arizona Robbins of Grey’s Anatomy. You…you keep going. You two give me hope. Hope that someday my insanely high expectations will be met when my hot art collecting, sassy mouthed Doctor with handcuffs in her back pocket jumps from the screen and onto my sweatpants covered lap. In this crazy assumption that I’ll end up falling out of an apple tree letting gravity push me into the arms of a woman who fixes my broken sense of reality with a amazing great hair and a wedding proposal. Missing out on the Hot barista who gives me an extra large when I ask for a small or the Budding **** artist who invites me to her galleries only to realize her muse has oddly the same hips as me. or the Best friend who is still stuck in the shadows of my closet. Nope…didn’t see any of those. I’m too busy watching the **** tube to see what low cut tops they can get away with before they leave the set and back to their husband and 2.5 kids. All I’m asking is… …when is it coming out on DVD?
0
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 7:17 AM UTC
Dear Hot Straight Actresses,
Dear Hot Straight Actresses, Stop playing perfect lesbian characters on TV that cause me to become wet on lonely Thursday nights. It’s the equivalent of waving double chocolate fudge cake in front of a menstruating woman who has just been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. To name a few, Jennifer Beals as Bette Porter on The L Word. Stop it! Naya Rivera as the sassy Santana Lopez on Glee. Stop it! Angie Harmon as butch goddess Detective Jane Rizzoli on Rizzoli & Isles. You may be in the closet but you are gay and stop! And Sara Ramirez and Jessica Capshaw as the married ****** Dr. Cali Torrez and Dr. Arizona Robbins of Grey’s Anatomy. You…you keep going. You two give me hope. Hope that someday my insanely high expectations will be met when my hot art collecting, sassy mouthed Doctor with handcuffs in her back pocket jumps from the screen and onto my sweatpants covered lap. In this crazy assumption that I’ll end up falling out of an apple tree letting gravity push me into the arms of a woman who fixes my broken sense of reality with a amazing great hair and a wedding proposal. Missing out on the Hot barista who gives me an extra large when I ask for a small or the Budding **** artist who invites me to her galleries only to realize her muse has oddly the same hips as me. or the Best friend who is still stuck in the shadows of my closet. Nope…didn’t see any of those. I’m too busy watching the **** tube to see what low cut tops they can get away with before they leave the set and back to their husband and 2.5 kids. All I’m asking is… …when is it coming out on DVD?
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24
Mirror, Mirror what do I see? My demon staring back at me! That very same demon that gives me fright in early day coffee and every night! The demon is handsome with devilish smile Sad, they don't know that this demon is vile! There's times that he buries himself deep inside But, when he comes out there's nowhere to hide! The demon is tricky at every turn disguised as an angel; ready to burn! Fantastic achievement! You're doing great! The demon said, "Nope!" then pooped on my plate! You're doing much better! Keep up the good work! The demon says, "Whatever!" Man! He's such a **** When I tried to fight him; my body would ache. I've finally learned that that's a mistake! I made a decision to let my heart mend and welcome the demon in as a friend! You can sit quietly; don't ring my bell because if you do I'LL SEND YOU TO HELL!
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Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 10:34 AM UTC
Demon in Angels Clothing