"permissible" poems
bon scott plays up a VOLCANO IN GUATEMALA
you see i start a partying in the night today
we are rocking and a rolling, yeah party, yeah
ya see we bring that volcano down to gualamala
yeah it’s about as cool as eating a banana
rock, ****** rock this volcano made ‘em rock
bring this party to the other end and rock
guatemala, is rocking tonight with malt and lava
is a rocking all night long
you see the house is a rocking, don’t bother knocking
yeah we will party, party we shall
rock this volcano, wreck the old life, WOW
i am going to get my spirit, and shake it down there
make all the people guatemala grin and ****** bare
and now i welcome slim dusty, i would love to have a beer with him
we drink in moderation dude, but our future, looks quite dim
yeah, we’ll drink in the town and country dudes
the people of guatemala feel distraught
cause we sent a big volcano, dude, from jupiter moon, that’s right
you see now we bring robert palmer in
how can it be permissible, oh yeah
this volcano in guatemala is unstoppable, ha
i wish there were ways to end it yeah
i would grab a methane and top it on ya, yeaH
It’s a strange occurrence first, it’s ****** hot, oh yer
it really destroys guatemala, dude the volcano is simply unstoppable
the walls are are shaking, the floor is melting
ya see, yeah we are covered in lava, and feel like ya melting
then i get up and look around, and i look up and see a volcano thrashing guatemala
ya see the volcano shook this town all night long
we’ll party on all night long
and then i get down and look around, to see if nobody has tipped methane on slim
you are hayley from bratayley
you are cool, the coolest dude around
i get up, and we’ll party down, we’ll drink ‘em down
then the old old man let’s out a big big frown
and i see barry allan as he walks past, i said come in bas boy, party on
and i tip a methane smoothie on barry, which shook the town of guatemala all night long
the methane shook it all night long
then slim dusty said, i will get a baked potato baked potato toast and jam
jupiter shook the guatemala volcano all night long, my dear
slim then said, watch bratayley, for me with new families, peter sergeant from canberra and ivy gimbert
and ivy and peter walked in and said, would you stop singing it up here
cause we need some COOL, for earth
baked potato baked potato, uhhhh baked potato
and then bon scott came up and said, PARTY PARTY,
and rock guatemala, while your at it, OK
AND we’ll keep this party rolling guatemala volcano malt and lava
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
over-caffeinated like a maj-gician (the electricians of existence), Matilda sang her morning brew a lullaby as she convinced breakfast not to panic from the pain of the frying pan- "sit quietly, take the pain, feel the burn- SIZzle! soon you'll be a human being and begin your life as a synthetic deity free within the skin of metastasized consciousness."
soon the egg seized in pleasure; a masochistic joy overtook it as yoke splurged from within like ****** ***** during ******* when the gimp has forgotten the safety word, screaming
BANANA
NEW YORK
CODE ORANGE
! ! !
while the perpetrator continues to scream verses from the Bible and Leviticus 1:3; an audiotape of On Being and Nothingness sends chills down the dark-sides spine in a hyperreal realization of the role choice plays in evils mortality.
must we listen while we speak? does reciprocity die in egoic colonization of the African subcontinent of the mind? is this the beginning of an age of autism born within the confines of illuminated rectangles of permissible distance and social hell-frozen-over?
man, you weren't even paying attention.
**** you.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 3:06 PM UTC
these thoughts...
they are my own,
walled within the deepest recesses
of my
cerebral labyrinth.
sprouting out of vine covered walls,
are multicoloured blooms
brandishing thorned stems
and
thirsty stigmas,
dripping with
absinthe.
mind full of poison in
permissible amounts...
i am caught in a
web of restless stupor,
anguish...
and regression...
these thoughts...
rationed out sparingly,
for they're not for unready ears
blooms of thought meticulously
triaged before
necessary expulsion.
hairline cracks between
insanity
and peace...
i tread precariously
the fine,
meandering line.
still clutching my flowers
in a tight obstinate grasp...
not letting go
for these tainted blossoms
are
undoubtedly
mine.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 6:42 AM UTC
In school I never understood
No, I never could
what the point of it was.
What is the point?
I learned about math and science;
Good God, why am I so defiant?
So call me lazy.
Tell me my IQ is below average.
Well here's an image:
I'm actually smart I just hate
being a slave
to the system.
I almost missed 'em.
But they caught me
and now they got me
and all that I intended to defend
is left on the side of the street.
I'm rebelling
while they're trying to compel me
to stay put in my seat
like a ******* robot.
Well, I will not.
I gotta break outta this prison
but where's my bailsman?
This is my decision
and I've chosen
not to be broken.
My mind will escape unscathed
while yours will continue to be lathed
by those mechanical words
that they feed to you like birds.
And what's worse:
Is that you eat it.
You accept them.
You swallow down that indiscretion.
What a burden
but I don't feel sorry
for you tainted mind
because you chose it
when I warned you
that they'd change you.
And now you've become a slave to their holocaust
and you're so lost.
You can't even think your own thoughts.
It's despicable.
And it's not permissible.
You're stuck in their Utopia
and you're praising their allah.
Well God knows, it's not right.
So you gotta ignite
all your original thoughts and morals
cause honey they aren't your idols.
They are so pretentious
and utterly blinded.
Stuck under their bibles
but they aren't angels.
Break free from the system
come join my anthem.
Let's start a rally
and get more allies.
Join me in my plea
to be all that we can be.
To stand for what we choose.
I promise we will not loose.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 3:49 PM UTC
College dreamers,
trust fund seams broken down
like veins after repetitive prods.
Drinking days
are alliteration accented
because two
dollar drinks deserve denotation.
A hangover that brings
clarity is irony;
a sad realization made
after a night of excess.
A drop of vulnerability
and personal accountability
is desperation, and preference
at this point is permissible,
yet premature.
Face buried, between the sheets, wrapped in legs and lust,
books thrown against a wall.
Classes are dropped faster
than broken furniture
and one night stands.
And **** the taste.
We're all chasing that last sip
that brings a confidence
to think rhythmically.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
Please be aware, the arrogance of a Burglar
that breaks into your home and steals your
property is permissible
Please carefully note that the arrogance of a stinking bully
that oppresses you and wants to cower you down
is permissible
Please take into consideration that the arrogance of a gang
that terrorizes and bullies is permissible
Please bear in mind the arrogance of liars, twisters, slanderers
fraudsters and defamers is permissible
Please remember the arrogance of fringe lunatics to unjustly
condemn and victimize and bring chaos and destruction
to an innocent human is permissible
Please keep in your appraisals the arrogance of a misled majority
to impose, mob, obstruct, harass and hound is democracy
in action and is permissible
Please note that the arrogance and ignorance of offensively discriminating against any foreigner or minority member is permissible
Please note to work hard and earn an honest living is Arrogant
Please know to stand up to criminal bullies is Arrogant
Please know to stand up to stinking bullies is Arrogant
Please know to speak up for yourself is Arrogant
Please note to refuse to be cowered by thieves is Arrogant
Please know to refuse to be browbeaten is Arrogant
Please know to refuse to have your confidence drained is Arrogant
Please know to stand up to adversity is Arrogance
Please know to not be weak and Feeble under pressure is Arrogance
Please know to have self respect and be self assured is Arrogant
Please know to possess your own mind is Arrogance
Please know to offer as much as a squeak when being unfairly and unjustly treated is Arrogance
Above all please know that we invented the English Language and have the sole knowledge as to what constitutes Arrogance, whether you like it or not, and if you protest about that, you are ****** guilty of Arrogance...my friend!
Please be strictly conscious that Arrogance is weakness, mental weakness. Falling to the desires of our darker instincts and
succumbing to conceit and smugness.
Please pay particular attention to the salient fact that Arrogance
portraits a total lack of human decency towards other humans
Know that when arrogance ceases humanity ascends.
And we we all live in a lovely perceptibly white and wonderful world
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC
Lines of coal take form, again and again, on this coldbound evening
as blackened fingers and wear reveal prints typically unseen.
Beautiful and unique and hurricane lightning tattooed yellowed paper.
It was untouched, like the charcoal, for ages as it sat in the corner
underneath the easel gathering dust and cobwebs.
It seems that the spiders have had a plentiful harvest this autumn,
what a shame to rid them of their feast this month.
It'll be winter soon and they're going to need it.
What creation is permissible by destruction? Any?
None?
Can I make up for it, I promise:
I'll draw them a web and weave you into it.
You and I and They: we'll all feast.
We on Art and they on flesh.
They'll never miss those material pleasures ever again.
They'll never need to build or wait or **** or eat.
We'll never need to either, not after this,
this momentous occasion of focus and dedication
when my arms and lamplit desk burn from satisfaction
and our faces grimace at the completion
of something so wonderful, on paper.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 10:44 PM UTC
We The People
Sailed the same course
Some willingly
Some by force
We The People
A document to inform
A more perfect Union
To weather any storm
No more kings
No more oppression
No taxation
Without representation
Checks and balances
And the rule of law
Mitigating injustices
Safe harbor for all
The secular trinty
President, Congress, Court
Not one above the other
Veto, fiat, tort
Our common interest
Of defense
With liberty
And justice
Our common tranquility
And general welfare
A union
With resources to share
American rights
And protection
From a despotic government
Or an insurrection
Free to worship my God
Or your God
Freedom to find God
Or deny any God
Open discourse
Speaking my mind
And yours
However unkind
Collective grievances
Peaceably petitioned
We walk together
But never threatened
To bear arms
For our security
Never being forced
To quarter unwillfully
To remain secure
In our sanctuary
Unless presented
With writ of entry
Neither held
Absent habeas corpus
Or loss of property
Unless agreed by us
Or forced to testify
To contradict our own denials
Or brought forward
In duplicitous trials
To face our accuser
In much haste
Represented by counsel
Our peers decide our fate
Not one but twelve
Examining the facts
Brought forward
But only this court acts
Reasonable recompense
For fine or bail
Cruel or unusual retribution
Shall not avail
An enumeration
Merely provides illumination
But within the penumbra
Reveals more freedom
That is self-evident
No list or count
Exists to encumber
Or restriction to surmount
A union has formed
But sacred remains the individual
The tyranny of the majority
Is not permissible
A living breathing document?
Or static words unbending?
Even as we amend
Change never ending
Open to interpretation
If you see a right
But others may disagree
There may be a fight
The spirit of intent
Is there to see
Freedom to choose
Secured by liberty
We The People
A sacred quest
We The People
No more no less
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC
Unknown Variables
The phrase pokes me the eye,
demanding obeisance and a
poem,
My compliance is required,
not demanded, but required,
for the “unknown variables”
conundrum, roots around in
my brain cells necessitating a
cleansing,
Walking down the street is
fraught, unknown variables
everywhere, popping out like
cutouts on a law enforcement
shooting course, requiring
instant delineation between
killing not good guys and only bad guys,
no hostages, civilians and no them,
poets,
Can you test for unknown
variables?
Of course not.
Unknown is a condition,
that you cannot drop in
to ascertain what condition
your multiple conditions are
in,
Then there is you.
You,
reader, are an unknown
variable, ripe with nearly
nuclear reaction potential,
you are fissionable material,
capable of destruction of
my explosive
creation,
Assessing the poem,
do you conclude,
keep/discard, remake?
now,
poem a known variable, asking
that it becomes a parcel of
your multivariate inputs,
a familiar variable, that can
charm, destroy, mislead, or
even, fulfill a need, make a
reckoning, modify your brain;
all those dangerous things
that are permissible when
first you read a newly constant
known variable,
a perpetually reborning
poet?
postscript
-------------
my name is brandy channing
and once upon a time,
I was e STEM major
Dec 1, 2023
Dec 1, 2023 at 2:41 PM UTC
he big concert in the sky forces meteor over USA
HI EVERYONE I AM SAM KINISON
and i sing wild thing, oh yeah dude let’s party
you make my heart sing, who let’s party dude
if you feel cool enough, you will be made to ****** dry
wild thing, as we are flying in the sky, pretty cool, that’s great, ya ****** see
and sam kinison screams real loud, and it makes your heart
crawl right out of your body, and make ya wanna bleed
wild thing, hey wild thing, i think you will move me, who oh oh oh oh
and then came the great elvis presley singing
you are nothing but a hound dog, your farting all time
you are nothing but a hound dog, farting all the time
you will never catch me a rabbit, cause your no mate of mine
you said it was high class, that is just a lie
you said it was high class, well, that is just a lie
and you’ll goodie every day and night and watch this great meteor with us in it really fly
and now here is robert palmer, how can it be permissible
to compromise my principals, that kind of love is missable, she’s anything but typical
it’s a craze, or a cause, it’s a powerful force, there is nothing wrong surrounding because
does our meteor we are sending to the USA look good to you, because we find it, SIMPLY IRRESISTABLE
And john denver, take me home, country roads, to the place, where we belong
west virginia mountain mama, take me home, country road
there is no heaven, can you understand that, we are up here flying over the USA
And we want you to understand this, that we want you to take me home
country road take me home, to the place i belong, we are travelling over your country obama
saying we have been taken home, by country roads
and now, george harrison has a song, i got my mind set on you
i got my set on you, roy orbison sang, ANYTHING YOU WANT YOU GOT IT
anything you need you got it, anything you need you got it, baby
wild thing, oh yeah oh yeah
we are flying in the meteor yeah, who who who who
you make everything so wonderfully groovy
you big despicable wild thing
and this meteor did a mercy dash to bring elvis presley sam kinison robert palmer john denver
george harrison and roy orbison over this nation to explode with total madness, oh yeah, dudes
KABOOM, IS WHAT IT SOUNDED LIKE IN SPACE OVER USA, BUT IT WAS THIS GREAT CONCERT, WAS REALLY GOING ON
TRUST ME, I AM A COSMIC SLEEPER, IT WAS TUESDAY NIGHT, WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON IN CANBERRA, NEARLY POETRY SLAM
I WAS A BIT QUIETER AT THE POETRY SLAM, BUT I SENT MY LITTLE COOL KID THERE, AND SENT MY OLD MAN TO THE POETRY SLAM
I STILL BLEW THE CROWD AWAY WITH MY AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE POEM, I AM COOL, MAN
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 3:21 AM UTC
the neighbors would hate me
tween 11 and 6:00pm
when I sing we must of true detective stories
of unrequited love, death,
the stony stink of
the poverty of starvation
of body and soul,
the stuff that makes
the paper librettos
come alive,
but my lease reads:
The Renter is required to refrain from singing between the hours of 11:00pm and 6:00am.
Writing poetry is not only permissible, but encouraged.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
what is this love
for I have beheld it
cast in metamorphosis
a love that makes
transformations on the mind
permissible transformations
improvisations of the self
in ****** intensity
which emphasises the drama
of sometimes, dark, violent
and repressive potentials
vicious energies of hate and ambition
that propel the enactment
of intense and exhausting experience
of vigorous vertiginous chaos
indomitable in its desires
what is this love
is it a registered predicament
made memorable by vivid language
that would butcher in ritual
gratuitous memories and testify
to an urgency of unwisely relinquished emotion
what is this love
does it flourish in flawed
and unreasonable understandings
accumulated upon the mind
in vicarious thrill of sympathy
where traits are highly exaggerated
and eagerly anticipates
the oppressive weight of the past
that functions upon a common collapse
of distinctions
or does it manufacture artificial precepts
pretending in attractive collaboration
to associate fiction rather than fact
what is this love
is it that by treaty or inheritance
with loving ferocity would embalm all tears
and hide all those collaborations
in flared conflagrations of the heart
and yes create a turmoil in the mind
hotter than a thousand summers
and vividly stamp upon a twisted body
a moral viciousness of fathomless malice
that wouldst close its ears
to the admonitions of conscious
and thus through an improbable
incantatory verbal rite
touch the hidden order of all things
in disassembling nature
what is this love
if only it was known
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
A paper lantern,
Crafted by the small hands
Of a girl with lime green nails
And flecks of dried glue peeling at her fingers.
It sits in visceral stillness,
Made of bleached white paper
Usually reserved for the tedious documents
Chronicling this-and-that,
The unimportance of the adult world.
There is a smell of felt tips
To replace the lost one of chalk
That used to settle so stubbornly in the air
And reside powder-blue in the lungs.
We are in the proximity of Christmas now,
Nothing but a daze away.
And festivities are tangible in the city streets
As those shops and stalls display their colours
And sounds,
In the mating ritual of buy-and-sell,
Make-and-take.
The classrooms are empty,
The corridors somewhat cavernous.
Empty coat pegs tell the stories
That cannot be heard in the voices of the children
Still echoing against the walls.
The buzz of Santa Claus is permissible
For just another year.
After that, magic must be shelved
And brought out only for the first dust of snow,
A meteor shower,
Or in a generous two-for-one discount.
But for now the children go home for Christmas
And the paper lantern will sit
Constant.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
We are a generation,
Indeed, a nation,
Raised upon foreign warring.
Scapegoat aggravation.
Bushes and *****
Clamoring for horror and hoarding.
Conspiring against a population,
I watch through youthful aging.
With my childlike eyes, I see
The target they're blaming:
Afghan families having more
in common with me,
Working class American,
Than those transparent heirs
With the world's wealth and arrogance,
Ordering for the villagers' obliteration
Through boys from our nation.
We are a generation raised
On media sensation
Of militarized devastation;
Animal exploitation;
Technological manifestations
Providing privacy infiltration.
Material attainments;
Mental frustrations;
Fiat debt enslavement;
A nation entranced by
Senseless parading.
Tempting decadence and
Announcements with no evidence.
The September bounty of edifice
That fell with no hesitance
Still echo its unfounded,
Preemptive pretenses.
This murderous reign;
this senseless parade;
Advertisement cyclical
in their game of charades;
Dog on a chain;
Famine causing no pain.
Permissible opinions
To be solely maintained.
The damage, the waste,
The heinous race and class chase.
Oppression remains thoughtlessly dangerous,
As moral responsibility brings no attainments.
Chowing down on maimed millions
Bellowing from enslavement.
Fortunately, elder,
Rothschild, Rockefeller, or
Those above them whom
Remain blackened, faceless:
Resistance shall come
From all places, all ages.
Such as this generation of mine
Inheriting increasing complications,
With the type of America
You wish to keep in rotation.
I'll carry the flag containing
Your mistakes as a symbol,
To remind those behind me
What not to rekindle.
To the Boomer who stews
In your white collar suit,
Still refusing to shake
Your destructive pursuit,
Still asking me to lick
Off authority's boot:
Growing up in this nation,
With childhood innocence,
I grew increasingly aware
Of the land of such ignorance.
I had such thoughts since
Early adolescence,
I was not blind to larger lessons.
Only since supported by
Actual, factual supported confessions.
To the Boomer tied to his convictions,
Now will you see-
That isn't going to work
For us or for me.
I'll bring to this world
Whatever I please.
Which so happens to be
Truth, justice, and peace.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 1:20 AM UTC
They sent him back to her. The letter came
Saying… And she could have him. And before
She could be sure there was no hidden ill
Under the formal writing, he was in her sight,
Living. They gave him back to her alive
How else? They are not known to send the dead
And not disfigured visibly. His face?
His hands? She had to look, and ask,
“What was it, dear?” And she had given all
And still she had all they had they the lucky!
Wasn’t she glad now? Everything seemed won,
And all the rest for them permissible ease.
She had to ask, “What was it, dear?”
“Enough,”
Yet not enough. A bullet through and through,
High in the breast. Nothing but what good care
And medicine and rest, and you a week,
Can cure me of to go again.” The same
Grim giving to do over for them both.
She dared no more than ask him with her eyes
How was it with him for a second trial.
And with his eyes he asked her not to ask.
They had given him back to her, but not to keep.
1.3k
and the skies with sudden encore come
filled with words not worked
orchastrating a full complement
of treacherous ambition
and will an exploration
of competeing claim of unsundry wills
and such as is gives men a will to transform themselves
to give a cause to anciet or recent voice
a permissible presentation of possibilities
in battle and brawl with a blunt rhetorical and physical disorder
which does emphasize such dramas
with stark, violent and repressive potential
all tantilized with the prospect of wealth in the ground
make a contention with vicious energies
of hate and ambition that propels
an intence and exhausting experience
upon a once civil-world to spiral
vertiginously toward an ancient choas
enacting old stories with the oppresiveweight of the past
now monstrous individualism
whose hideously fragile bonds to peace
no longer exeert their hold
and thus divorse themselves
with an individual rapaciousness
annihilating lives with a curiousley
derivative quality for a store of gas and oil
and disinherite themselves from moral constriant
evoking the soliloquy of historical hypocrisy
with a mutilation of truth
in a tragedy of lament for all human kind
then sudden uncalled for encore fills the skies
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
With passing days queued up
for the forecast foreseeable
Tuck into the routines' reserves
deplete when permissible
Shot through the feet
with what we can't forget
run on through the limp
past the end of the sentence
and sit
In the glow
remain undeveloped
stay unreconstructed
drop the curtain
on scenes interrupted
Dot your i's
with up-slanted slash marks
sparks fill my eyes when
I read through your retorts
Blank page.
Blank page.
A waltz through a minefield
reeling jigs over headstones
when digging through
plain white lines
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
We The People
Sailed the same course
Some willingly
Some by force
We The People
A document to inform
A more perfect Union
No matter the storm
No more kings
No more oppression
No more taxation
Without representation
Checks and balances
And the rule of law
Mitigating injustices
Safe harbor for all
The secular trinty
President, Congress, Court
Not one above the other
Veto, fiat, tort
Our common interest
Our common defense
Our common liberty
Our common justice
The domestic tranquility
And the general welfare
The pursuit of happiness
And the resources we share
Civil rights
And our protection
From a despotic government
Or an insurrection
Free to worship my God
Or your God
Freedom to find God
Or deny any God
Open discourse
Speaking your mind
You have an opinion
However unkind
Collective grievances
Peaceably petitioned
We walk together
But never threatened
To bear arms
For our security
Or being forced
To quarter unwillfully
To remain secure
In our sanctuary
Unless presented
With writ of entry
Neither held
Absent habeas corpus
Or loss of property
Unless agreed by us
Never forced to testify
To contradict our denials
Or brought forward
In duplicitous trials
To face our accuser
In much haste
Represented by counsel
Our peers decide our fate
Not one but twelve
Examining the facts
We are brought forward
But only this court acts
Reasonable recompense
For fine or bail
Cruel or unusual retribution
Shall not avail
The enumeration
Provides illumination
But within the penumbra
Shadows suggest freedom
What is self-evident
Requires no list or count
Nothing to encumber
Or restriction to surmount
A union has formed
But sacred remains the individual
The tyranny of the majority
Is never permissible
A living breathing document?
Or construction unbending?
But as we amend
Change is never ending
Open to interpretation
If you see a right
Others may disagree
Who can see the light?
The spirit of intent
For all to see
Freedom to choose
Secured by liberty
We The People
A sacred quest
We The People
No more no less
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 10:56 AM UTC
I want to do fun things
like sing, joy bring and blow some smoke rings.
I wanna do so many things I know make no sense,
but somehow the dumbness of the act brings a rush of childhood innocence
so in my own defense
******* Disney told me to not grow up
So I got drunk and acted dumb thinking I'd never be grown up
but man I've drank til I've thrown up
bone dry lips chucking fluids from the stomach corrupted guts
**** outta luck and then you say maybe it is about time to grow up.
But **** that I wanna drive in cars above permissible speeds
and I've had my car taken away for doing the deed
highway tow truck repossession sessions
is bad endings
sorry we'll have to call a cab friends.
But that's not where the night ends.
Lets take these bad feelings and squeeze em into a bottle
examine and give them meaning. Or am I dreaming?
How can I still aspire to admire those who do stupid things like set things on fire?
I am no burning man.
But like I said, fun things is what I wanna do.
Take too many drugs and get in an **** somewhere like Bonnaroo.
Like what would you do? these thoughts never occur to you,
I do dumb things not for wealth
I'm doing them for myself.
I wanna dress up as the grim reaper and photobomb the pictures at every marriage for money,
now THAT'D be funny.
I'd look back and laugh and one day they'd look back and say who's that?
Or maybe they won't.
Or maybe they will when it is over cause let's face it, it's a ******* wedding photo.
What's the point of looking you were there and you lived it.
But please spend copious amounts of money for the memories you might one day lose.
Spend all your money.
Your dimes, nickles, dollars, buy gold and diamond rings,
You do that dumb **** and I'll do fun things.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 2:57 PM UTC
Make this mistake with me,
Just dive into us,
Because we are crystal clear,
We are blue water ocean deep,
I'll hold your other hand
discreetly.
I'll kiss your lips
on days He won't kiss yours.
And I'll hug you from behind
on days He got it all wrong.
Make this mistake with me,
Trust your heart my Libran goddess,
Because if all of me is what it takes
to sweep all of you off the ground
then I will come un-grounded,
undefeated, unfazed, unclothed.
Without the fear of the world
I will come to you
in the night.
I will fill the emptiness of your room,
with the snores of my palpable fingers
resting on the edge of the very shoulders
that is wrong for me to lay my lips on.
Make this mistake with me,
Listen to the voices you deemed untrustworthy, dishonest, unethical.
All your excuses to not do
should be set aflame.
He has nothing on you, nothing on me.
He Has Nothing.
Just fly up high with me.
Find a day where this forbidden fruit
can find a space where both of us
can reside and relive and redo
what we could have, should have, would have
done.
It's okay honey. All is not wrong.
You know you can trust me.
I know you want to trust me.
So make this mistake for you.
Nothing is forbidden
if you decide its permissible.
Make the mistake for me
and throw all our logic out the window,
out the door.
Throw all safety nets out to
His unwarranted sea.
Because although He has everything,
He is not everything.
He is not me.
And like how I've always been waiting,
I am here still
waiting for you
to slide over.
So slide.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC
The world has dropped to its knees begging our white male dominator's to let us be
Guns swinging from your belts as money stuffs the lining of your clothing
Do not **** us, we begged you
Your power is a travesty, unfair
You would be better off sharing,I promise you
You are not worth more than I am you monster
We will not beg anymore
Because you are inhuman
un-hearted, unable to reason
More animal than animal
Demons with hell-fire in your eyes
The word loss has been shaking in my mouth for years
But the worlds collective stance means they taste it too
When genocide is permissible
Because the people you **** are not wealthy
Brown-skinned
Veiled and not passive
Because you own us, the media
our collected information
Our collective memories are worth nothing
Genocide is permissible
But **** you if you think we think so too
If you think we will go down without a fight
The history books will have your names remembered as villains
And the devil will have a special seat for you
You monsters
When genocide is permissible
I see not the end of hope
But the fury than keeps us going
You are evil
We are purity
We are loss and loss makes strength
We are dignity
Beauty
More than genocide
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
If oppressing becomes permissible,
Law already is underrated.
If colours mean more to you than life does,
My condolences on your gritty being.
If water turns into money,
Fruits will eventually stop growing.
If you are constantly busy comparing your body with someone else's,
Your soul becomes a slave of the wrong embodiment.
If immorality is the trend of this era,
My style is out of date.
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 1:33 PM UTC
I look up to the sky, cold and gray, leaving me reminiscing of my mortal decay
Swollen with fear, I whisper comforting phrases into your ear,
Nothing but the stolid rain
Kissing away our mental bane
Leaves us empty, wandering like midnight, in a vacant train
So we stay teetering on the edge of reflection
Our minds give away to sicking deceptions.
We move in, to seize what so awkwardly keeps us dismayed
Closer
Wait we just may
I wrap my tongue tightly around the tips of your lips
Hoping never to lose my grip.
Your heart's tickled, spreading sunshine like ripples beaming beyond what is believably permissible
But so soon to pass the moment cannot last
Vanishing like tears in an ocean,
This moment,
Gone forever like a fleeting motion
Soon to be a stale memory
Waiting to be filtered by time's relentless lapsing devotion
Now I wait for this thought to wash up one deary morning
Forever anticipating that beautiful, but distant emotion
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 11:15 PM UTC
that buzz starts
and my palms flood with
sweat.
the needle hits flesh
and it’s all familiar;
I’ve been here before.
still, it’s all forgotten,
except for the idea
that the images I’ve
asked him to mix up
on my arm are very comforting
to me.
Our Lady of Guadalupe
and an ink pen,
I’ve grown up surrounded
by both,
so to stir them together is safe
in its sacrilege,
not sacrilegious at all;
permissible in fact,
because of their combined power,
a display of faith in my own
ability to create, to destroy
darkness and demons
with notebooks and prayers
offered from a small stage,
through a live microphone,
or in a coffeehouse with
the newsman,
the laureate,
the tiger,
the bundle of nerves,
and the denim-clad
troubadour.
Our Lady of Poetry
will watch over us all,
in our church,
the church of the spoken-word.
***
©P&ZPublications; 2015
-JBClaywell
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
read his stuff
https://hellopoetry.com/r-2/
n.b. nowadays I write here only in praise of others,
as the rewards are far greater than any of the meager
stuff I got laying around.
a poem for his summer soul-stice
<>
self-confessed to the priest, we us, both, meeting
in the confess-urinal, wee needy for a solid projectile
purging, me, cause, I’m a plagiarist of inspiration
**** it every time a ce r tain poet writes,
its a sock to my multi faceted square sided~head,
discoloring my eye shadow, my maskara crazy running,
frustration, admiration, mortar and pestle pounded
into a white powder of unadulterated adultery with a
frothy topping of a jealousy muse laughing face, at me,
cappuccino made from bitter herbs and pink sea salt.
in eight lines the man accomplishes
what would take me eight, eight full
poems, even then, not coming close
still failing to retake his brevity skills,
his summer solstice way of seeing,
by keeping the dark away,
by inviting the dark in,
making it under duress,
spill the beans of his life’s
ironies, some hellish,
some not, all well kept,
in Georgia granite stoney face.
the softest steeling of words that irritates
me into a fine frenzy... what’s the use,
point made, in how he undresses
the eyes
into just outright gasping,
and that is the only
permissible comment emoji.
______________________
r
Her verse
I need to taste the salt
of her soliloquy
be drunk on the sobriety
of her verse
those words she writes
behind my eyelids
makes me want
to crawl inside her skin
and listen to her heartbeat.
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 8:22 AM UTC