"parodies" poems
Slowly drowning me
With your negativity.
Bringing me down
With your selfishness.
You sit there and wonder
Why your life has turned out the way it has.
Some things are understandably upsetting,
Others, terribly exaggerated.
You sit there and wonder what your life has become,
Though yet you do nothing to make it better.
Your words burn the hearts of others,
Though you expect forgiveness a moment later.
Boasting about what could have been,
What you have missed out on,
Blaming others for your own mistakes.
You expect all those around you to forgive your piercing murmurs,
That become more than just background noise,
More like spiteful parodies,
As you laugh with yourself
Lost in your negativity.
Breaking those around you,
Losing others along the way,
I won't be able to take it for much longer,
Can't stand your negative ways.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 1:38 AM UTC
Along the banks of Lake Shelbyville
That’s what I think of when it’s your birthday
A camp fire burning on a cool April night
We two drinking hot mauled cider
Or better yet “Hornsby’s Draft Cider”
Talking and laughing
Making up parodies
Parodies of Zeppelin and Floyd songs
Listening to the nightingales and the crickets
And watching fire light
That almost appears to be living
Watching slow rolling clouds, and feeling the whispering wind
Rolling in and out and over and under
The engaging light of the moon and stars
And maybe some of our friends were there
And maybe it was only us
Brother and sister
Best friends forever
Retelling stories of our past
Creating memories for our future
Waxing religion and philosophy
Such philistines, think my parents
And your parents don’t get it
And yes we have separate parents
And yes we have the same parents
(Adoption is a funny thing you see)
You are my funny BIG, BIG, BIG brother
Santa Claus, Sasquatch, Cave Man, and Viking
And I am your little crazy sister
Flower Child and Sacagawea
And it is your birthday
And I love you always
Love, Sarah Jane Gillian Tiffany Michelle Whispering Wind Grider Minks Summers Jonathan George Washington Francis Fleming Greenlee Whiter Liston Hall
Aka Awesome Pagan Goddess
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 1:36 PM UTC
. people are always left curious about the stories of homeless people... within the regards of why they became homeless... you want to hear my story? i sat down with one homeless person... you know what he told me? you want to know? he said: MY MOTHER TOLD ME TO NEVER TELL A LIE... wow... wow... so it became my ambition to never tell a lie... i became homeless because my mother advised me to never tell a lie... guess telling lies pays off... whatever it pays with or for... i became homeless because my mother told me to never tell lie! wow! so much for poetry being written while sober... what is expected? unruly truths, falsifications, this that and the other... hell... i'm a drunk... chances of me involved in a relationship are the basic focus of: SLIM... but? HEDNINGARNA - VARGTIMMEN... Finnish folk music.
***** does my head in,
minus the thought-and-question:
do i have a head?
dunno....
whenever the moon rises...
i get a tease of the giggles...
ha ha...
and my face contorts into
a posit of one if those faces from
an apex twin video...
funny as any royal ****
turned into ****
flushed..
now i want you to remember:
never meddle with a madman...
he's been prescribed his
medication,
he's been diagnosed...
come near me and a cancer
sufferer...
dox me!
dox me!
dox me!
i, dare, you!
but i know the person,
or rather, the type...
i won't be doxed,
because what i'm proposing
will not be matched
in execution....
****** parodies
of testicular cancer!
that quote for Albert from
the dark knight:
i am....
some people just like to watch
the world, burn...
i am...
dies, ich bin:
this, i am!
at least i have more constancy to
make comparison of
the Hebrew gott...
ich bin das ich bin...
my alternative?
dies, ich bin!
now...
i am: now!
and when i drink and turn
into a *******
it's to salvage some fathom
or what remains to be
justified as:
resolve.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 8:12 PM UTC
"Grow up!" they said.
Time picked up an unwilling passenger,
And headed me down a path,
With no trace of childish fantasies.
My destiny, corrected.
Had I had my way.
Looking all around,
The roped path, present from the start,
Merged with the jungle unnoticed.
Alone and unguarded,
Dark fears come to mind.
My asylum, restored.
Had I had my way.
As time ticks on,
The slow creak of chain tightening join in.
Movement growing ever less.
My presence in ******* unwavering,
Would prove a fated hardship.
My freedom, a constant.
Had I had my way.
The wonders, the sights,
The clowns in the fair.
All morph into gross parodies,
Ridiculous and undignified,
Grown men in suits.
My ignorance, permanent.
Had I had my way.
Raindrops from heaven,
Once a signal for a game.
To sing; drenched and oblivious.
Now best left for the movies,
Where reality has less say.
My actions; unjudged.
Had I had my way.
"Grow up!" they said.
Change is a thief in disguise,
The Path of Fate treacherous.
My maturity; inevitable.
Time had had its way.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 8:23 AM UTC
On silver screen cinemas
Actors portray pain
Sobbing
weeping
Dripping tears
Like that of thunderstorm rain
Comedies - that's all they are
Comedies is all I see
Sick and twisted parodies
of me and those like me
Horror flicks
and gruesome pics
are simple things when compared
Agony
Yes Agony
Agony is your true name
What actor dare play my part
what actor dare say
"I Dare"
Because of you Agony
My bittersweet agony
Joy
is but a lost memory
Because of you.... Agony my sweet agony
Peace
Is a mystery- never clear
And my heart, my agony
Is a flame
flickering, riddled glimmer
Beating..... nevermore
Thanks to you- my sweet Agony
I know Hate
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
We're all just phonemes,
Multiple sounds creating full words
We're all just skin,
Sitting on the surface
We're all just cats,
Looking for a mouse
We're all just fruit,
Growing on a tree
We're all just you,
Being like me
We're all just simple,
Making things complicated
We're all just here,
And everything else there
We're all just a song on repeat,
Playing again and again
We're all just a pencil,
Drawing on a piece of paper
We're all just a planet,
Floating through space
We're all just a light,
Flickering then it fades
We're all just a rubber band,
Snapping back in place
We're all just a dot,
Sitting there silent
We're all just a line,
Going on forever
We're all just a circle,
Endlessly winding
We're all just proteins,
Endlessly binding
We're all just the fall leaves,
Falling into place
We're all just food
Waiting to be eaten
We're all just parodies of each other,
Trying to break free
We're all just a memory,
Waiting to be discovered
We're all just an umbrella,
Finding something to cover
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
Beauty is not flowers, given by a lover.
Nor is it meadows and birdsong.
And definitely not the pantomime of Weddings, with their
Hyperbolic declarations and parodies of tailoring on
Bodies too well-fed to house them.
Instead, it is the soft curl of cigarette smoke, blue
And graceful against the grime of a steamed window.
Or in a poky kitchen, the remains of our meal crusting on
Our plates, too absorbed were we in conversation
To even remember the taste.
It is the chuntered breath, just after,
When we are both trying to ignore how bad
We smell, and getting slightly annoyed that our heartbeats are out of sync
And thinking how nice a drink or a shower would be.
It is seagulls beside a river, in a military line, with
White trails of **** Jackson Pollocking down the wall
On which they stood, and how they all took flight one by one
Like dominoes as I approached.
It is certainly not sunsets. After all, they occur every day
And can be captured in a photogaph. It’s the accompanying silence
That makes sunsets special, and that is better found in libraries anyway.
It is somehow more impressive to silence human tongues than watch
The suns tired routine once again.
On a bus full of rowdy, starched schoolboys with filmy faces,
Posturing about experience, Beauty is the one boy reading.
Beauty is not safety. It is daring and bold. Or perhaps it is quiet and
Trying to be ignored, I don’t know. Perhaps we shouldn’t care a jot.
Beauty is that thing that should be ugly,
But is not.
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 2:32 PM UTC
Rumbles of
Thunder
Light the candles of my mind
safely shielded from the
Winds
of conflagration
Fire has never been my friend
There are
Ashes
on my forehead
from the rubble at my feet
Mainsails billow in my consciousness
as a crimson mistral sets my boat
Out to sea
to search for the
Giant Drum
That lightning plays upon
when dybbuks from the ocean deeps
Rise Up
To sink my craft and all aboard in
Flaming Parodies
Of a movie Viking funeral
*ljm*
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 7:07 PM UTC
I can hear metallic words emerging from your lips
All throughout the best part of my day
Inviting all my inner focus to your bitter uproar
Endorsing all my resolve to move away
Your brash recklessness cast dark shadows down
Of great anguish and unbearable distress
As you continuously violate all of my emotions
With all this agitation you profess
You seem to find the greatest of comfort
In confessing all your misery
But I find myself totally unsympathetic
To your persistent verbal parodies
So if you stop and wonder why, I am no longer here
If you are uncertain of the very reason
Take a good listen to yourself and you will see why
My emotions are no longer in your open hunting season
Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 6:22 PM UTC
Hundred heads rolling in the dust
under a crimson sky
enveloped in the smell of musk
there stood I, victorious,
in a battle against my creed.
While I also lay dead
laden in white and a smile,
bittersweet,
losing my soul to greed.
There is no boundary
but only ego sheathed
in time,
the unparalleled truth
is a limited guideline.
And so I am false,
my identity only a clue
before the hourglass turns again
and fallen kings rise to sing
the battle won is reset
parodies made are not of me
the mirror reflects different things
scars whittle, memories mold,
and events I thought were nothing
now cost me more than gold.
The switch is mine,
but not mine to make,
but when it does happen,
it is for me to take.
Unless I roll the dice today,
and make a choice,
to only realize..
the hourglass turned
the wrong way.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
Far, far afield--the averages of distances
are sought after.
Seer, hearer, feeler likened to what feet
fail now...as a body parodies its mind
unknowingly.
This chased relationship... headless chicken's
nocturne.
Konstantinos Mark
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
THE BIG HAPPY EVER AFTER
She was one cool chick.
Dressed - très chic.
She curved in all the right
places - if ya get my drift.
Her name was Miss Dumpty.
Claimed her father Humpty
had been pushed - taken the fall
for some Mr. Big and
got his.
I remembered the case.
His smile was cracked...yoke all over
his face..legs scrambled at an unnatural angle.
The autopsy pics
made me sick.
Said she had gone to Sam *****
to dig up dirt.
But no dice.
Sam's paid..he's off the case.
She spat the name out
with a thanks-for-nothing look.
"So. I came to you.
See what you can do!"
"What's in it for me!"
I smirked.
"Me!" she clucked
in a Linda Darnellish way.
Turned out it was
Little Boy...would ya believe it...Blue!
Jealous of Humpty's
easy said-ness and how he
got recited more often than
Mr. B. Blue.
Nursery Crime is increasing
so they tells me.
Too many modern authors
making ***** parodies..
Or in the *****
Limericks Business.
Scaring the kiddies away.
Putting the frighteners on parents.
Me and Miss Dumpty?
We're going for the big happy
ever after!
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 2:13 PM UTC
nakedly ****** and showing no strain
purely divine
sure and complete in her utter poverty
-----------
***** feet
eyes sparkling with light
the light that is life
---------
we walk as if in a daze
we encounter demons
and pretend they're our own
------------
if i was alone i could be with her
if i was alone
if i was nakedly pure and poor
and searching
i could walk with her forever
----------
she dies completely and so she lives
---------
nakedly ******
purely divine love
parodies our lonliness
enabling us
to join together as the world
Dec 11, 2010
Dec 11, 2010 at 12:16 PM UTC
sun fades to dawn;
sky blushed,cerise to maude
I'd love to live a day
in your mind, I'd stay
starstruck in the mirror
but there is nothing here to reflect,
only our eyes to record. Your teeth dissect
apple slices and shape a smile.
I love your eyes, I love how they forecast the sky
wavering,blossoming in slow motion
and carving a sleekit masterpiece that parodies the ocean.
I could stay like this forever, imbued in
beautiful silence, your beautiful presence;
I've no hesitance to let the time float by
around us, by your side I feel safer than ever.
Oct 9, 2019
Oct 9, 2019 at 1:05 AM UTC
The bones of love howl such parodies
That cannot speak more seldom of Paradise
Black sand irritates the Pearl...
Faith maligns the Believer
As God invents Pain,
Shrill phantoms
Over Love's
remains.
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 6:10 PM UTC
Class clown;
Absolutely guaranteed to
Constantly fool around
Never do what you want him to.
Will astound
With outbursts meant to
Irritate, regale, distract
Take breath away and shock you.
Upside down;
Yes, he’ll stand on his head
He loves to make faces
And use accents like the poorly bred.
Turn around,
And moon from a swiftly passing car.
That gets attention just fine
And that is how his jokes usually are.
Noise abounds.
Songs, that are ***** parodies
Or words and music he made up;
Creating portraits of current company.
Laughs found.
Especially if the joke’s not on you.
Class clown.
Entertaining is the only thing he can do.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 4:23 AM UTC
We were parodies of our parents,
Twisted mirror images,
Emulating something we can’t understand,
Trying to mimic something we haven’t seen.
Unsure of what we are, or were, or will become.
Control is the new black, painted on the walls in our love shack
That hasn’t had a visitor since this time last spring
Light filters through muggy dust, floating through the air like plankton in the sea,
And we were the whales, filtering through our mouths,
Unable to consume anything more substantive.
Our teeth fell out with old age,
But my face is still smooth.
We are green shoots, erupting with violence from the malnourished soils,
Desperate for a drop of sunlight,
Sweet relief.
Sweetest silence in another’s company,
Words were made to lie with,
Bodies are made to lie with,
As they huddle together to try to warm up,
But my hair is needles, and my arms are razor blades;
Steely coldness, severing all that tries to warm it up,
Stabbing what gets too close,
Feeling like you're quarantined.
The phoenix is reborn to be given the chance,
to be the man he thought he could never be,
But scrub and scald, the slate won't come clean,
The only escape is constant escape,
Never stop moving.
Venom leaks from my skin,
Bright colours warn predators,
While sweet sounds attract mates,
Aural honey sticks in the holes we put in my brain,
And for about three minutes and forty-seven seconds
Everything is about the vibrations.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
The clouds were laying flat on the rooftops and the mountains, smelling toxic and too clean, roses and lemons. The tears streaming down my face dripped in time with the math metal kick drum and fast crashes. It wasn't snowing, it was just nuclear fallout laying, staining the mountain tops. We opened the drawers and water rushed out, flooding the office, the whole **** apartment. I waded through the waist deep, ink stained memories now rushing over my legs. Disappearing.
The next day was sunny, and we snuck on the roof to read the numbers on the tops of city buses. Together, wearing each other's clothes, oddly discontent with our divestments. We saw the rain steam off the sidewalks from our designated spaces, perched above the crowds of swagger, staggering college students below. The blue and gold was overwhelming - we hid under blankets, curled against each other, kickball and four square on our minds.
I've been screaming for hours, pulling the acrylic off of my shortened fingernails, coming up with plots, ways to shut you up. The graphs are old and borrowed and coffee-stained, like the textbooks pulled so lovingly from the bottoms of boxes in attics and basements. I will continue to wait until the times you decided on, I will continue to wait.
My yawns were wasted on you, the subtleties of conversation breaking your kneecaps and knocking you over. Yellows and greens, parodies and satire, video games, hours spent in ***** beds. The chaos of a youth untamed. The chaos of a youth forgotten.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
We are the vapours in time,
proud, aloof and in our prime,
the transcendence of forgotten youth,
drifting through the parodies of truth,
we collect the black clouds of despair,
wear them as trophies in our hair,
souls amidst the tombs of hope,
woven together like coils of rope,
we dance to an unknown tune,
our redemption is upon us soon,
brother and sister you see it too,
that you are me and I am you.
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 1:02 AM UTC
A sweaty toothed madman, looks into my eyes-
With hunger, power, pride, and thirst,
insolence and disguise.
The sweaty toothed madman, begins to bite my nails,
With bloated bulgy human nature,
Expecting a recurrence.
A mighty mixture of anger, base and immobile,
The ring of magic, a realm of life,
Churns the paste of light.
Not so much on a wintry night, I expect so much more,
The sweaty toothed madman, wears a coat of holes.
He looks upon an eternity, the landscape of all parodies,
For I couldn't sing a melody to feather a community.
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
Making excuses
With hundreds of uses
All kinds of ruses
To cover up abuses
By venal national leaders
Upscale liars and cheaters
And well-armed bush-beaters
Feeding the meat-eaters.
The uptight Right
With its narrow eyesight
Calls daytime night
And loves a grudge fight
So, they create enemies
With deceitful homilies
And live up to the parodies
That leave us on our knees.
They ignore the Constitution
And make new resolutions
To offer no real solutions.
To our national destitution.
All that matters is monetary
So, they bribe the constabulary;
Call civil rights revolutionary
And laugh at those they bury.
The point is, make no mistake
These reprobates always take
They never take a break.
They cut nobody a break.
They steal and call it rights
And love it when the poor fight.
And while we sleep at night
They steal even the street lights.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 6:05 PM UTC
CCP Turtles Grassing Line
China’s virtual hotline
Report online remarks
Slander Communist Party history
Crack down “bygone nihilists”
Party’s 100th centenary July
Grass line allows society report
Netizens “twist” Party’s history
Attack governance policies
Denigrate national heroes
Deny superiority radical socialist nation
Clandestine motivations old nihilistic parodies
Malevolently garbling
Denigrating contradicting Party history
Internet operatives administering people
Devotedly report dangerous info
“Historical nothingness” public doubt distrust
Chinese Communist Party’s earlier dealings
China’s net forcefully censored
Overseas social media networks
Search engines news outlets forbidden
Penances persons conveyed
Netizens prison lawful punishments
Placement content acute
Nation’s leadership procedures antiquity
Legal amendments folks
“Slur smear invade on” memorial
China’s national heroes’ martyrs
Face three years gaol
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 4:22 PM UTC
Ring around the rosie
Handful of snowy
-40, -40
we all stay home
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC