"patti" poems
Aara Priyanka Chopra Beige Net Saree. This bollywood wedding saree is beautified with resham thread embroidery on pallu portion and panels of the saree.Shimmer embroidered patch patti is placed at border of the saree add extra beauty to the saree. Blouse pattern shown in image is only for photo shoot purpose. Ara Priyanka Chopra Beige net Saree color of the product may differ from that shown on your computer screen. Aara Priyanka Chopra Beige Net Saree difference in color is mostly due to flash, monitor or camera settings. The images shown are only for you
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 2:05 AM UTC
Aara Priyanka Chopra Beige Net Saree. This bollywood wedding saree is beautified with resham thread embroidery on pallu portion and panels of the saree.Shimmer embroidered patch patti is placed at border of the saree add extra beauty to the saree. Blouse pattern shown in image is only for photo shoot purpose. Ara Priyanka Chopra Beige net Saree color of the product may differ from that shown on your computer screen. Aara Priyanka Chopra Beige Net Saree difference in color is mostly due to flash, monitor or camera settings. The images shown are only for reference.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 2:13 AM UTC
'you've felt it, haven't you? those feelings that seem to get so big in your chest, like something is so beautiful it aches.' - Heather Anastasiu
'you have a place in my heart no one else ever could have.' - F. Scott Fitzgerald
'i knew he didn't love me, but i adored him anyway.' - Patti Smith
'i like people with depth, i like people with emotion, i like people with a strong mind, an interesting mind, a twisted mind, and also people that can make me smile.' - Abbey Lee Kershaw
'most days i wish i never met you because then i could sleep at night and i wouldn't have to walk around with the knowledge there was someone like you out there.' - Good Will Hunting
'i have a million things to talk to you about. all i want in this world is you. i want to see you and talk. i want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.' -Haruki Murakami
'i love you in that crazy, stupid, i want to rip your throat out and kiss you at the same time love.
that love where it's so overwhelming i hate you for making me feel so vulnerable.
that love that takes over your mind and i end up thinking about you so much i drive myself into complete and utter insanity.
that love which where i put my heart on my sleeve, took everything you could throw at me and still loved you with the little pieces you left.
the love that i'll tell my kids about, the 'what if' kind of love, the one i'll never forget.
the love of my life.
that's the way i love you.' - Chippylou
'i am holding your name
underneath my tongue
in case you ask me
to make my favorite
sound.' - Stolenwine
'i need to rip your
name off my tongue;
it no longer taste
sweet. - a.w.k.jones
'i keep thinking you already know. i keep thinking i've sent you letters that were only ever written in my mind.' - Iain Thomas
'i guess what scares me the most is knowing that at any moment, you could rip my heart out of my chest, tear it into pieces, throw it on the ground and stomp all over it. and that i'd just pick it up and hand it back to you.'
'i romanticized you
to the point where
the knives you pressed
into my skin
began to look
like cupid's arrows.'
'i'll never be busy enough to not miss you.' - m.k
'i never really liked
my name
much
until i found out
what it tastes like
when you sigh it
into my
mouth'.
'i have tried to let you go and i cannot. i cannot stop thinking of you. i cannot stop dreaming about you.' - Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus
'your heart and my heart are very, very old friends.' - Hafiz, Persian poet, "Your Mother and My Mother"
'she hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years.' - Julia Quinn
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 3:47 AM UTC
Hey Harvey Wallbanger
I’d like you to tie me to the bedpost, baby
And press your fuzzy navel to my *slippery ******
Give me your white angel kiss and I’ll lie down like a brown cow
While between the sheets you play the Italian stallion.
Like a kamikaze pilot head for my pink squirrel
Then give me your ol’ Alabama slammer
And pack a *** punch* into that screwdriver of yours.
I want a *screaming ******
That’ll send me to blue heaven. Wu Wu!
So, don’t mention that ****** Mary*
With her devil’s kiss,
Or you’ll find I can give a snake bite that’s as deadly as a B-52.
Instead let’s ride into the tequila sunset in our golden Cadillac
For *** on the beach*
And on the sea breeze we'll hear an old love song sung by a ‘salty dog’ with a Gibson
And watch a tropical storm over Manhattan
We'll go to Peppermint Patti’s café
And order an Irish coffee and a large slice of cherry pie.
Happy, after dark let’s drive home for a *sloe comfortable ***** with satin pillows*
And fall into the sweet surrender of a summer dream.
Mar 6, 2010
Mar 6, 2010 at 7:58 AM UTC
Patti Smith - Jubilee
***Oh glad day to celebrate 'Neath the cloudless sky
Air so sweet Water pure
Fields ripe with rye Come one, come all
Gather round Discard your Sunday shoes
Come on now Oh my land
Be a jubilee Come on girl
Come on boy Be a jubilee
Oh my land Oh my good
People don't be shy Weave the birth of harmony
With children's happy cries Hand in hand
We're dancing around In a freedom ring
Come on now Oh my land
Be a jubilee Come on girl
Come on boy Be a jubilee
We will never fade away Doves shall multiply
Yet I see hawks circling the sky Scattering our glad day
With debt and despair What good hour
Will restore our troubled air? Come on people
Gather round You know what to do
Come on people Oh my land
What be troubling Oh my land
What be troubling What be troubling
What be troubling you
We are love and the future We stand in the midst of fury and weariness
Who dreams of joy and radiance? Who dreams of war and sacrifice?
Our sacred realms are being squeezed Curtailing civil liberties
Recruit the dreams that sing to thee Let freedom ring
Freedom ring Freedom ring
Jubilee Oh my land
Oh glad day Oh my land
Hear our cry Freedom ring
Oh glad day Oh my land
Jubilee Jubilee***
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 11:33 PM UTC
I haven't ****** much with the past
But I've ****** plenty with the future
Over the skin of silk are scars
From the splinters of stations and walls I've caressed
A stage is like each bolt of wood
Like a, like a log of Helen, is my pleasure
I would measure the success of a night by the way, by the way I
By the amount of **** and seed I could exude
Over the columns that nestled the P.A.
Some nights I'd surprise everybody by skipping off
With a skirt of green net sewed over
With flat metallic circles which dazzled and flashed
The lights were violet and white
I had an ornamental veil, I can't bear to use it
With the way my hair was cropped, I craved, craved covering
But now that my hair itself is a veil
And the scalp inside is a scalp of a crazy
And a sleepy Comanche lies beneath this netting of skin
I wake up, I am lying peacefully
I am lying peacefully and my knees are open to the sun
I desire him and he is absolutely ready to seize me
In, in, in, in, in heart, I am a Moslem, in heart, I am an American
In heart, I am Moslem, in heart, I'm an American artist and I have no guilt
I seek pleasure, I seek the nerves under your skin
The narrow archway, the layers, the scroll of ancient lettuce
We worship the flaw, the belly, the belly
The mole on the belly of an exquisite *****
He spared the child and spoiled the rod
I have not sold myself to God
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 5:50 PM UTC
3
“Sic transit gloria mundi,”
“How doth the busy bee,”
“Dum vivimus vivamus,”
I stay mine enemy!
Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”
Oh caput cap-a-pie!
And oh “memento mori”
When I am far from thee!
Hurrah for Peter Parley!
Hurrah for Daniel Boone!
Three cheers, sir, for the gentleman
Who first observed the moon!
Peter, put up the sunshine;
Patti, arrange the stars;
Tell Luna, tea is waiting,
And call your brother Mars!
Put down the apple, Adam,
And come away with me,
So shalt thou have a pippin
From off my father’s tree!
I climb the “Hill of Science,”
I “view the landscape o’er;”
Such transcendental prospect,
I ne’er beheld before!
Unto the Legislature
My country bids me go;
I’ll take my india rubbers,
In case the wind should blow!
During my education,
It was announced to me
That gravitation, stumbling,
Fell from an apple tree!
The earth upon an axis
Was once supposed to turn,
By way of a gymnastic
In honor of the sun!
It was the brave Columbus,
A sailing o’er the tide,
Who notified the nations
Of where I would reside!
Mortality is fatal—
Gentility is fine,
Rascality, heroic,
Insolvency, sublime!
Our Fathers being weary,
Laid down on Bunker Hill;
And tho’ full many a morning,
Yet they are sleeping still,—
The trumpet, sir, shall wake them,
In dreams I see them rise,
Each with a solemn musket
A marching to the skies!
A coward will remain, Sir,
Until the fight is done;
But an immortal hero
Will take his hat, and run!
Good bye, Sir, I am going;
My country calleth me;
Allow me, Sir, at parting,
To wipe my weeping e’e.
In token of our friendship
Accept this “Bonnie Doon,”
And when the hand that plucked it
Hath passed beyond the moon,
The memory of my ashes
Will consolation be;
Then, farewell, Tuscarora,
And farewell, Sir, to thee!
2.6k
Deaths Of 2013
My third year doing this.
Paul Walker, Texas ranger,
driving fast leads to danger.
Matt Osbourne was Doink The Clown,
Paul Bearer always wore a frown.
Dennis Farina and James Gandolfini,
always played a mobster meany.
Peter O'Toole, famous actor,
Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher.
President Nelson Mandela,
Dennis Burkley, was a famous fat actor fella.
Lou Reed, is now on the wild side,
took all the colored girls for a ride.
Conrad Bain and Bonnie Franklin,
tv actors who had white skin.
Paul Blair and Stan The Man,
playing baseball, when they can.
Marcia Wallace and Lisa Robin Kelly,
both had ***** that bounced like jelly.
Tom Clancy wrote famous books,
not much on having good looks.
Cory Montieth and Patti Page,
one died young, other of old age.
Jean Stapleton, was Edith Bunker,
Archie always put her in the dumper.
Pat Summerall and Deacon Jones,
played football and broke some bones.
Dr. Joyce Brothers and Pauline Phillips,
they both gave good and bad tips.
Ray Manzarek, from The Doors,
Jeff Hanneman knew all Slayers chords.
Chrissy Amphlett, liked to touch herself,
Caleb Moore's trophies are on his shelf.
Mindy McCready and George Jones,
both hit those country tones.
Chris Kelly from Kris Kross,
Ed Koch is a New York loss.
David Frost and Roger Ebert,
always had words to insert.
Anneitte Funicello from Mickey Mouse Club,
Eydie Gorme almost got a snub.
Jonathan Winters, was very funny,
to come from Mork's egg, made him money.
If you don't know who these people are,
look them up, internet not very far.
For the ones that I missed,
please don't get to ******
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
Started with
Happy New Year
spelled out
in rails of *******
carefully measuring
which letter
was largest
each of us got one
you
remember.
Carolyn
came with me
she was dressed in red
she figured that bowl
of quualudes
was
all meant for her.
The gang was all there
passing out gifts
rusted out back scratchers
found in the garage
no kids yet.
Sheraton spoke in mysteries
his wife Jane
hustled me behind the shed
Joaquin
was drunk on his knees again
screaming for ***** and poetry
Patti
had recently found recovery
and I was spending my time
trying to convince her to drink.
The party didn't begin
until
Mary and Stuart arrived
our personal gurus
took us all
one step higher.
Olivia and Aaron
had
much to hide.
Davey
was
the ring master.
We
didn't have to go to the circus
we were the circus.
Little Feat
were still willing
the Dobbie Brothers
in high pitch
were still chillin
the Dead played amazing riffs
Bob Dylan was street legal
the Boss was depressed
the
sound track to our lives.
I gotta job
working in a drug free program
all the staff
sat in a VW van
having a staff meeting
and
passing a joint.
Carolyn and I
kinda got married
had a big party
I knew I was in trouble when
she launched herself
on the bed of gifts
and tried to swim
up stream.
I
learned all the messages
of
Alanon
in one brief flash
Everything passes
everything changes
we all know that.
I got a real job I wasn't qualified for
missed a deadline at school
tossed out on my ***
no 26 year old
Ph.D.
for me
just another suicide
on the horizon
saw my grandmother
and
the white light
but
also at the job
met the future mother
of my children
and of course
she was to be
my
future ex-wife.
When Carolyn found this out
she
brought
a gun to my work
to
tell me what she
thought about that
it ended all right
on that night.
I lived in Laurel Canyon
in a beautiful garden
on Wonderland Avenue
John Holmes
was my neighbor
bigger than life.
1978
It ended as it started
with *******
the big chill crowd
together again
one last look back at the year
in
Super 8
Davey's traditional dance as historian
for the year that passed
one last look
and
farewell.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC
how I honor you (notes from a conversation with Patti Smith)
~for Cné~
<•>
honor,
honor on my mind
(ran into Patti Smith last night at the Standard Hotel
in the Meatpacking District)
told her honor,
honor,
on my mind
she said that’s
why I like you
city poet
”you, are a free range thinker,”
when you get stuck on a bubble gum word
on the sole of your shoe,
you one sticky stuck poet,
can’t let be freed~released till you get the
*curve of the word,
curve of the world,
you stumble where gods get lost.
where the divisions of the subconscious thread together,
and you got to peel the onion all the way back, while
you cry*
here is what I think about honor:
*there is so much added glut
in this world,
honor the reader
never write a word that
wastes a minute of their time!”*
you wrote you have only poem in you wright,
and you writ it to right the world,
thrice, and over and over in disguises.
and sometimes, I hear, even with
spaghetti sauce
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC
crank up the old vitrola
and play me something ancient
let the static sing
us to sleep
let patti smith
**** us slowly with her blues
crank up the old vitrola
we can cram love poems
into empty wine jugs
and roll them down the street
crank up the old vitrola
as all hope dies and
the chorus repeats
crank up the old vitrola
i've got time to ****
and a lover to love
crank up the old vitrola
we've got nine more bottles
to drink
before sunrise
nine more poems
to write
before we close our eyes
Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 2:20 PM UTC
i long 4 the lonely distance bared
ladies with cut lips and stitches laced
beewings and seafeathers paired
salt water ******* and eyelashed face
the distance girls are borrowed and enslaved
the country girls let it go on weekends
they're always well behaved
(projections of avy
patti smith and honey
over black tea))
with excess love
and a goodbye kiss
the wall of
dawn walks you home
holds your hand
and threads
the nightly fissure
on a soft slow abyss
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 2:24 AM UTC
Dear Patti, we miss you
We miss you so much
That there is a gaping hole
Taller than the Burj Khalifa
Left by your absence
Not a soul can replace you
You were one of a kind
Dear Patti, we miss you
You were always there for us
Whether it be the immediate family
Whether it be close relatives
Whether it be friends
So much so
That your presence was taken for granted
Dear Patti, we miss you
From your words of wisdom
To your unconditional support
From your sheer optimism
To your never-say-die spirit
From your delicious meals
To your spooky tales
From your knowledge of various topics
Whether it be cricket
Whether it be politics
Whether it be trains
To your unwavering enthusiasm
Dear Patti, we miss you
I still remember the day
As though it were only yesterday
When my dear friend
Was hopelessly marooned in her hostel
During the peak of the Chennai floods
Along with her family
It was your unconditional love
That saved the day
And my friend and her family
Can never forget you
Not just because of your timely help
But also because, to you
They were also family
Dear Patti, we miss you
You left us so soon
That we had no time to say goodbye
But you should know this
You will always live in our hearts
As a grandmother
As a mother
As a wife
As a sister
As an aunt
As a dear friend
And finally
As a human being
A very beautiful human being
Nov 5, 2021
Nov 5, 2021 at 9:51 PM UTC
The most beautiful relationship of all
Is not romance
It is friendship
Because there are no rules
No layers or complexities
Just shared understanding
Which is unconditional in nature
When I think about friendship
I think particularly about you
Whom I've known for ten years
Mind you, I've known quite a few friends
For a longer period of time
However, none of them are as special
As you are, to me
Very humble and unassuming
And yet having an enthusiasm
That is hard to match
When it comes to your favourite topics
Such as gaming, movies, animes and Hindu mythology
You have an easygoing and amicable nature
That would appeal to most people
Which is why I'm surprised
That you don't have a lot of friends
But then, it is better to have a few friends
Who mean the world to you
And would do anything for you
Rather than a large group of friends
Who are only there to share your joys
And are unable to support you
When you need it the most
I follow this principle to the tee
In fact, we both are in the same boat
You have always stood by me
In my hour of need
In fact, you are more of a family member
Than a friend
And I am really glad
That your family sees me the same way as well
In fact, your mother was a very close friend
Of my late maternal grandmother
And it is no coincidence
That Patti came in your dream
Just before she left for her heavenly abode
Our friendship is indeed a beautiful relationship
One that will last
As long as we ourselves do
Just be the way you are
And have a little bit more faith in yourself
Most importantly, thank you for coming into my life
And staying with me
Through good and bad times
Because that's what friendship is all about
Jan 15, 2023
Jan 15, 2023 at 10:33 AM UTC
.*well back in my days (2 years ago)... you could groove to Patti Smith sing her rock 'n' roll ****** and listen to American Head Charge cover the same song... you could actually listen to Die Krupps Nazis auf Speed... back in my day - you weren't deemed a 70 year old nostalgia steam-train... while still in your early 30s; good luck finding that Patti Smith track... might as well resort to róże europy: kości czerwone, kośsci czarne (european roses: red bones, black bones)... and to think the *** pistols got away with their shenanigans... 40 years prior; Patti Smith! come on! it's a great tune! or tuning... whichever.*
racial slurs... so the suffix in
schwarze-negger is
a collective private property?!
Dr. Dre can say it,
as urban insult,
and i'm reduced to a colonial
past that isn't even mine?!
can i say the names
of countries like Nigh-ger-ia...
or Nigh-ger?
can it just be an urban
slur these days?
compared to spawn,
yes, black panther *****
***** on a lemon before
******* on ***
what's next:
yo... walking *****
the **** well... if we're
in the interracial Olympics,
i once ****** a bony black
girl with a Kama Sutra slim, tight,
that it wouldn't require a 12"
to penetrate a Ghanian lard
yo-yo...
pulverized
the soft pouch of flesh where my
***** originate from
using her coccyx...
****
even i didn't expect
finding out the riff...
on joan jett & the blackhearts'
song i hate myself for loving
you...
i'm with the Ire on the topic
of racial slurs...
instead of "offense"...
we resort to head-butts...
like the two Posen bucks...
running headlong into
a bare canvas...
comment section?
well... obviously i take off
my Francis Bacon mask.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 12:33 PM UTC
35,088 feet over Nebraska,
(Nebraska-imagining me climbing a ladder, me upwards, Jacob’s angels coming down, off to a high school All Saints wrestling match in a cornfield town)
a place not on my bucket list, just a blue bias of an eastern stater’s unknowns, a sure sign of how much he doesn’t know
reading Patti’s slender volume “Devotion”
slender like her body, some would call it a wiry woman's
sparse but directed, connective, word-worshipping,
old familiar strangers she delivers to you that you have never met, her phraseology striking me and strikingly beautiful simultaneous
scan it and understanding instantaneous
she asking,
why do we write?
her answers are fine copper wire threaded
into a coil and I close it quick cause the loving ****** desire to
plagiarize such an oddly gorgeous offerings is overwhelming;
I feel the wire words piercing my temple, intending to
emerge out the other side, a decorative symmetry,
I don’t own
my need to script some cursive on my smooth body parts,
on my god-given papyrus, always at the ready,
is a methadone itch, a dulling urge needy for fulfillment,
that needs satisfying but me, soundly second rate,
write like the flip side of a hit vinyl record, no one is expected to play, fulfillment meets futility
thus the title is a modification of a Patti light touch
my alchemy never made any gold and my present presence now over Iowa a reminder that my prescriptions are 1200 evacuations; they are negative commandments,
proscriptions, not prescriptions
do not write, do not wrong words with a middling diffidence,
hide your face and put her words on a shelf above your head
hard to reach, so you do not be tempted
why do we write?
“All seeking an emptiness to imbue with words.
The words that will penetrate ******
territory, crack unclaimed
combinations, articulate the infinite.” Patti Smith
disambiguation she relieves us of uncertainty
my combinations over Waterloo, Illinois
are ordinary smokestack gray, a spewing wastage,
the angels conforming that my words Cain-fail,
my confession
meets no one’s standards, not even mine
7:07pm Central Time
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
She moves at quantum levels
You're not supposed to see
And if you sneak a peek at her
She flips from sine-to-three
She changes colors often
Her blue-shift echoes red
I caught a glimpse of her and now
She's dancing in my head
She moves at quantum levels
With paranormal grace
She stands still on the dance-floor as
She jibes from space to place
She doesn't feel the rhythm
Her beat is zero-G
She moves at quantum levels which
You're not supposed to see
She'll dance with God or Devil
She'll dance to any key
She moves at quantum levels which
You're not supposed to see
(*she sometimes wears a frilly-thing
which peeks out from her jeans
She shakes at quantum levels in
The spaces in-betweens*)
May 26, 2011
May 26, 2011 at 4:25 AM UTC
As ambiguous as the title may seem, it dives into the vastness of human nature, it explores a sensitivity that most neglect, and it leaves you breathless with each and every single word.
At first glance, this book caught my eye due to it's boring cover and unfascinating title. But then I read it's synopsis and I was simply blown away by the stream of consciousness - how she took me from one place to another, how she gave me air and then drowned me underwater, how she sat on the edge of the moon with me and how the moon cut us with each swing between dreams and reality, how she showed me women of the Victorian era wearing ****** little skirts and how the whole street smelled like a smithy - like raw metals and earth, how she took me to the Hastings's backyard and made me an accessory to Alison Dilaurentis's ****** - I was buried alive!... and how she brought me back to the modern bookstore with dusty bookshelves and people walking past me like I did't even exist, like I didn't even belong here, and this wasn't even me...
Ah! How she made me want more...!
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 12:41 PM UTC
Crippled and confused I am shriveled and derilect. Won't you be my Patti, won't you be my Smith. Come on little darling lets make a split, todays moonrise is just another reason to abandon ship.
At the bottom of the ocean time does slip, with water in my lungs I couldn't spit. Breathing in ounces of dissapointment and choking on death, suffocating amongst the urchins was easy, spending our time watching the sand blow by. Now todays come again and it aint any longer, poison slides down and tides me over, pausing to wonder, was there something I had to do here before I drown? or was I just meant to sit here and listen to the sound. Nevermind and never forget, it seems to be the reason why we sweat, I can feel the hot sun sitting upon my kneck, holding me down as it sets.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 7:50 AM UTC
Let me cry.
Just let me weep all of my sorrows.
I'll listen to Kanye and pretend my poems are hit songs the ones in the top 20.
My mom says "Danielle you'll never be a Patti and it's cute how you wanna be the female Langston but baby we're the ones from the other side of the hood, the ones with different kind of luck"
I'm almost grown and still trying not to believe her....
Maybe I should have went to church this Sunday or maybe the last, God please can you show me the light because the star you thought I WAS.... is dim. I'm not that kid from that "American girl" movie I did when I was 10, I'm different and maybe if I would have prayed instead of taking those pills everything would still be the same.
And
this pounding in my chest is just a reminder how empty I really am, I'll never be famous and to them I'm just a ******** writer....
So tell them I was not sane and These words were my will, my misunderstood and my guilt.
Let me cry alone in the dark, I never needed anyone besides god and his son.
I am not sad yet simply just emotionless.....
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
I remember you
in shades of pseudo
toughness but really
inside sweet
a conglomeration
of rebel-quiet-luscious
flutter of Nordic
New York city eyelash
that fixed stare
strict leather
jacket flare
I loved your brashness
brazen statements
shooting from the hip
as you took your provocative
attitude stance
pouting fullness of lip
we listened to Patti Smyth
and Salem 66
"Wanderlust" curving
up my spine
tension building
in your room
as you stared at me
looked away
each subtly
heated time
your eyes found me
my pulse quickened
in shy leaps
I did not understand
my own feelings
only when
you finally kissed me
did my world spin on its axis
and I understood
that love goes far beyond
what they say
it should
curve of waist
and gentle slope of breast
under men's shirts
revealed
only then did I understand
who I am
and how that
fresh snap
of breaking boundaries
feels
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 7:11 AM UTC
i don't want to sit on teraces or chill at the park
i don't want to drink alone at 1:30am with patti smith playing
i don't want to go to sicily like a sellotaped body
i don't want any dried out tulips in *** on the table today
i just want some confirmation
to know if it's still possible
to know if it's still real
to know if i'm it
and if you miss me
like i do right now
and forever
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
Bad ...
bad like Vasquez from Aliens
all strut & ******
balancing on her
heavy Latina hip
a friggin' phenomenal
machine-gun thing,
& then sharing the grenade
with that **** of a lieutenant
& blowing themselves
& the alien
sky
absolutely
high.
Bad ...
bad like the little officer
in Master & Commander,
only about 12
at most,
along the way
loses an arm
& at the end
rallies the men
as they board
the French vessel
all shouts & "at 'em men, 'at em"
with his one arm
aloft,
his fancy hat,
just fitting.
Bad ...
bad like Chaka Khan,
Neil Young rockin'
All Along the Watchtower
backed by
Booket T,
bad like Ali, Jimi,
Patti & James.
Bad ...
bad like the Irish guy
in Dead Men's Shoes
who gas-mask wearing
& so merciless
runs them down
one by one
whilst chatting gently
with his younger brother
who we realize
near the end
is actually
already dead
& he's avenging
for his brother,
with his brother,
in his heart.
Bad ...
bad like Bela,
***** Riot,
& the Isley's
playing
Machine gun
live
in 1973.
Bad like panthers,
tigers,
leopards & pumas.
Bad ...
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 10:45 AM UTC
Playlist by the fire
as we drink tea
& roll one,
circa 1983.
The Cure & Talking Heads,
Big Youth & The Congos,
Killing Joke & Dennis Bovell,
Patti Smith & Misty in Roots,
Mike stroking his long
long beard,
Kim always up & down
like a yo-yo,
I hung loose as the guy
from next door put his
head round the door
to see if we had anything,
he was a laugher that one,
used to watch the snooker
on a small black & white
tv with the sound down
while he listened to Keith
Jarrett play his piano,
nice guy.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 11:14 PM UTC
I've spend too long deciphering
Your brave fawning exterior
Sit and drink our utopian coffee
Cleanse the fear that's inside of me
The guiding light that's befriended me
You're brilliance is other worldly
I'll have Patti Smith's peripheral
Then we can create our own immutable
There's no moutain that's too steep
There's no secret that you won't keep
The guidling light that's inspired me
You're the source of my feeling free
Beyond the muse you instill in me
I'm sure that we will ever be we
Every coffee births fantasy
Grand ideas of liberty
There is nowhere I'd rather be
Than with the one who makes me feel free
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 9:33 AM UTC