"pated" poems
We're mostly gregarious and polite,
Like most of you.
We too have our diplomatic trips 'n bumps;
We never cozied to Dicky;
But welcomed ex-pat refugees
For safe and sound reasons.
After the jimmy-rigging, how many re-pated?
And we gagged on the impeachables, all fuzzy and bitter.
He called the father *that ******* in Ottawa;*
And Pierre wore that moniker like The Order of Canada.
When you're not liked by one, you're a dove.
You should visit CANDU.wow
It has it all.
How is Supreme Leader managing?
Are his...
Are my people... sitting at attention.
We could real news a bomb a la Kim Jong,
Or flip a stone down at Port Huron.
We won't.
But we could if we weren't
The Great White North, so accommodating, so polite,
So Coo loo coo coo coo coo coo cooo! nice...
(for now)
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
sand
cherry blossom
vintage clothing
poem
grass...
You Are These, My Love.
like a fairy
is like a dark-eyed Junco, twitter-pated in snowfall apocalypse
like a painter's palette, engrossed in the notion
of gone from me. like chocolate. a sun down
feathering our bed.
like water and thunder
blasting sand
through the blossom
of my cherished -
cherishing.
a
vintage
ache
clothing the naked risk
of my honest poesy.
like the grass roots of joy
fairly gaming the
opaque eye -
of some rara avis-
blinking outside Caravaggio
palette...
a
deep cocoa
of divine waters,
that flood the ludicrous
of your charms
like austerity
is plush
our heart's are vintage clothing
and we must.
what's a metaphor like ? do you simile -
the way I am a valentine ?
or do you
love
me
?
deluge
[ ? ]
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
Once upon a time, there was me:
A simpleton of no account,
A dunderhead by word of mouth,
An addle-pate, a cracking crock,
A crazy who deserved a lock.
Not pretty, brainy, or well-bred,
Bespectacled, a short redhead
With hands too small and far too pink
Who’d trip or fall as soon as think.
Not many prospects, they declared
With such conviction I was scared.
But the cast was short one role,
The one who’d make the halfwit whole . . .
Once upon a time, there was you:
A lord of state, of high esteem,
The answer to each maiden’s dream,
A strong man, raven-haired, and tall?
No, not this person, not at all.
You had glasses just like me,
And freckles where your skin should be.
Your clothes were rumpled, torn and tattered
Not as though that even mattered:
You walked on set and came to me
You got down on one gawky knee
You took my pink hand in your red
And, as you fixed your glasses, said:
“I love your hands, your height, your hair,
I love you up, down, everywhere.
And I hesitate to ask you this . . .
But could I maybe have a kiss?”
And, for once, my tactless lips
Did not resort to stumbling slips;
I gave you one, I gave you two,
I gave every kiss I had to you.
Once upon a time, there was us:
Two simpletons of no repute
Two dunderheads whose names were moot:
Prince Not-So-Charming and his *****
And much as cynics tried to drench
The flames of addle-pated glee
I found in you and you in me,
As much as they enjoyed pretending,
They could not harm our happy ending.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 1:28 AM UTC
FOR certain minutes at the least
That crafty demon and that loud beast
That plague me day and night
Ran out of my sight;
Though I had long perned in the gyre,
Between my hatred and desire.
I saw my freedom won
And all laugh in the sun.
The glittering eyes in a death's head
Of old Luke Wadding's portrait said
Welcome, and the Ormondes all
Nodded upon the wall,
And even Strafford smiled as though
It made him happier to know
I understood his plan.
Now that the loud beast ran
There was no portrait in the Gallery
But beckoned to sweet company,
For all men's thoughts grew clear
Being dear as mine are dear.
But soon a tear-drop started up,
For aimless joy had made me stop
Beside the little lake
To watch a white gull take
A bit of bread thrown up into the air;
Now gyring down and perning there
He splashed where an absurd
Portly green-pated bird
Shook off the water from his back;
Being no more demoniac
A stupid happy creature
Could rouse my whole nature.
Yet I am certain as can be
That every natural victory
Belongs to beast or demon,
That never yet had freeman
Right mastery of natural things,
And that mere growing old, that brings
Chilled blood, this sweetness brought;
Yet have no dearer thought
Than that I may find out a way
To make it linger half a day.
O what a sweetness strayed
Through barren Thebaid,
Or by the Mareotic sea
When that exultant Anthony
And twice a thousand more
Starved upon the shore
And withered to a bag of bones!
What had the Caesars but their thrones?
1.9k
A poet is a poet is a poet.
Philip is the name I use
Oliver is my family name
Especially on my passport
True my passport should say Poet
I like to think I am one.
So I write a poem every day
A poet is a poet is a poet
Poetic license I like to take
Occasionally when I need to
Especially when I talk in metaphors
Twitter -pated . Tongue -twisted metaphors
Introducing the art of the Acrostic Poem
Simply using the phrase vertically to trigger
A poet is a poet is a poet
Poets need to die to become well read.
Only the lucky ones ever get published
Even John Keats wasn’t recognised in life
Trick is to keep on writing for all your worth.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 10:02 AM UTC
We said good bye for better opportunities of the future
An now your there with your little arm candy by your side
As smart as the button on the shirt you’re wearing
Looking around at the world you built yourself
You've done good
But I can do better
Because I've got a dream
And I'm still in the driver seat of my life
So let's race and see who will get to the top first
Winner gets to have the last word
Last words to be spoken like a champ,
Go ahead and talk your ****
Because I don't have the time for this dramatic review of what your life is
All you should see when you look at me is what your life could have been
So I hope your remember what we had
What we should have had.
Because my life has been a winding and bumpy road
But that mountain is just getting smaller in the distance and less intimidating.
You said you would have my back
But dear you've failed at your own game so I hope someone has given you a dose of your own medicine
I ain't getting twitter pated in your presence
It’s only driving me harder to be better than you
I'll be the bigger person and ignore your **** talking face that I used to love
I'll ignore the fact that you’re trying to bring me back to your level
Too bad I've lived a lot more since you've been gone
I've gone dancing in the rain
And screamed at the top of mountains
And aimed for the stars
I will conquer this evil face in my past standing in front of me
Go ahead and watch me walk away from you
I know you’re trying to get back at me
I know you’re trying to get me to dumb down my world for you
Just so you can understand what is on my mind
***** for you though
Because I've found a whole new world
Of power that I've never had before
And a peace that I've only dreamed about
I can only hope you find it someday
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
Every poem a foundling. Ancestry uncertain. Cuckoo. Kidnapped.
Each line liberated from a huge, noisy foul. Taken not stolen.
Don't put all your words in one. Task it to be new.
Almost bought organic bananas yesterday like some kind of millionaire.
Some of the best times of my life have no photographic evidence.
I often wonder where my thoughts come from. Perhaps Uranus.
Date a girl with small hands.. Everything will look bigger next to them.
Get to the point. My medication is starting to wear off.....
Karaoke, because being an obnoxious drunk isn't embarrassing enough.
If I am the man of your dreams, my condolences. Stupid is.
It's all fun and fiction until you show up missing. Internet romance.
My thighs are looking awfully lonely without you between them.
You've spent an entire day creating the ultimate sheep pun,
but have you ever considered the ramifications? Disordered thoughts.
Die a quick and painless death: the new American Dream. Lonely kills.
All I need is just a little cherishing. Comeuppance. Cherish is the word.
Listen, karma is the ***** I am simply her occasional instrument.
Meaning becomes data becomes information becomes content becomes meaningless.
Writer creates order. Otherwise only words in a row. Whole more than parts.
Big bird tweets often. Means nothing. Vacancy. Disappear into void.
Shout out the words you don't understand. Leave them to the poet's hand.
~mce
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
Your green skin sun-baked,
Crunchy and crispy.
Gummed rice lay over,
Sticky and mushy.
Orangey carrot sliced thin,
Fishy Fish chopped symmetrically,
Unwilling they aligned
bearing the cacophony of sticky and crispy.
Nescient avocado,
Addle-pated eggy,
joined the jarring combination.
Grudgingly they were rolled,
Trimmed into circular disk.
Melding of those was awry
Heedlessly the dish a masterpiece,
Loved by small and Big
Praised by all.
Whatever things may be,
Bad from the start,
Dont be sad for the end
For it may be different,
From what you expect.
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 3:02 PM UTC
to-night is one of those long nights
where i have a moon conversation
tell it my dreams & fears--it just spits cloud-wa-ter
back down in my face
where i climb the roof & clear
my throat--close my eyes
& pro-ject my melanchol-y toward the stars
punching the empty sky
it happens occasionally
some-times under a gibbous moon
(i don't have a choice)
where i lay on the cold grass in sweat-pants
shout & sing to the sky --or--
run a-round getting dirt in my toenails
swatting pine-cones out of the hands
of low-hanging branches
my ears & nose tip shine
under the feather orph-an
clouds
where there's still wi-fi no matter
how hard i tried to escape it
i get twitter-pated on a pretty girl's facebook
but never introduce myself in person
where i listen to mahler in the dark &
receive spectral messag-es
write scattered dew-drop poems like
ginsberg did
rock back & forth
maybe cry a little
rub one out--
finally
go to sleep a-round
dawn
--------------------------------------------------------------
& wake again
snug as a bug
sleepy numb--reluctant
to find a ********* poem
w/ my last conscious fingerprint
expand-ed into cyber-space
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
We said good bye for better opportunities of the future
An now your there with your little arm candy by your side
As smart as the button on the shirt your wearing
Looking around at the world you built yourself
You've done good
But I can do better
Because I've got a dream
And I'm still in the driver seat of my life
So let's race and see will get to the top first
Winner gets to have the last word
Last words to be spoken like a champ,
Go ahead and talk your ****
Because I don't have the time for this dramatic review of what your life is
All you should see when you look at me is what your life could have been
So I hope your remember what we had
What we should have had.
Because my life has been a winding and bumpy road
But that mountain is just getting smaller in the distance and less intimidating.
You said you would have my back
But dear you've failed at your own game so I hope someone has given you a dose of your own medicine
I ain't getting twitter pated in your presence
Its only driving me harder to be better than you
I'll be the bigger person and ignore your **** talking face that I used to love
I'll ignore the fact that your trying to bring me back to your level
Too bad I've lived a lot more since you've been gone
I've gone dancing in the rain
And screamed at the top of mountains
And aimed for the stars
I will conquer this evil face in my past standing in front of me
Go ahead and watch me walk away from you
I know your trying to get back at me
I know your trying to get me to dumb down my world for you
Just so you can understand what is on my mind
***** for you though
Because I've found a whole new world
Of power that I've never had before
And a peace that I've only dreamed about
I can only hope you find it someday
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
A year ago
You said I was your valentine
You didn't even say it in a cute way
But just the fact that you said something like that
Well
my heart flew
it's hard being the girl who grows up never loved
Never noticed
partially because I hid
Because I didn't want to be hurt
So, after your casual invitation
My heart ran to you
Defending every thoughtless comment
Starved
Craving what you could offer
Just someone who thought I was beautiful
Someone who really wanted to know me
I wonder how many girls fancied themselves your valentine that day
Just a side glance into your twinkling eyes
was enough to push me over the edge
I let myself think that those girls were chasing you
Never letting myself admit that you play emotions for fun
You like knowing you can make people love you
I think I knew that, even a year ago
Even as twitter-pated, I fell asleep, thinking about a man who was my valentine
One year later
Blocked you on facebook
blocked your number
Not that you ever tried to call
Just in case you ever care enough to look me up again
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
Once upon a Cold, we painted with
our Breath, drawing grand designs with Frost.
We thought the Ice would last
all season, comfort of our white Chrysalis
wrapping Crystal dreams.
We antici-
pated each coming day
like a Snowflake waits
for infinite friends to follow
it’s unique descent.
We didn’t fear starry hours
or burned out sky
because even that
was Bright.
And one morning whispers with a
drip. drip.
delicate palaces rush into consciousness.
new chrysalis cries
as every brick of what we built
becomes a warmer, wetter winter tear.
collapsing towers, liquid architectures dancing
deep in ear canals, all flowing castles of the fall.
Tall empires all return to sea level.
farewell, foundations.
goodbye, stuck moments.
take care, cold friends.
hello, invisible breath.
now fleeing into pavement rivers,
moving as if only motion was alive,
sunlit course corrections,
shifting midstream to not die.
but I weep for our grand designs,
no solace in the warm survival of their parts,
impermanence courts chaos
in what’s left
of a pair
of frozen hearts.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC