"pha" poems
made me
So horney and gifted
I lifted a tune
Which lit the moon
now your waters obey me
Bath me with light
my imperfect iridescence
to slither through fertile crescent
Such twisted insight
yet adorned in the shadow of night
This hunger for mor ning
star
my clandestine appetite.
I wander not lost
but sea rching,
est u aries mi
Jane tap sap
Sens u al it y
because I lick you
and your
***** pha lang ease
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
Every day is a different story,
But cycles tend to form.
Cycles, cycles, cycles, cycles, cycles.
Compulsive, depressive, manic, crazy.
It’s like a CD skip- skip- skip- skipping,
But it’s not like she can remember why she was mad in the first place.
Doesn’t recall the fight you yelled at her for,
Can’t seem to forget her love for you though.
Roller coasters are her favorite.
Did you hear me? IRONY AT ITS FINEST.
Up and down and around and around,
Riding and being thrown by the waves over and over.
Thank you for putting up with her swinging,
Back and forth, like two-face.
She can’t control it, she didn’t want to be this way,
But God said she was strong enough...isn’t she?
At least she has good music tastes,
Riding around, the stations changing with her beautiful moods.
Smoke blowing out the windows,
She’s the one the music talks about: Here and Gone without a trace.
Do you think she ever gets tired?
Tired trying to keep up with her day to day phases?
Pha- Pha- Phases like the moon.
Beauty ever changing, but silent. Stuck in her head.
You love her though right?
I mean, think about it.
When it’s a good day, she’s so understanding and chill and all-around perfect.
Those days make every other worth it.
Right?
God bless the cycles, cycles, cy- cy- cycles.
For one whole day she’s uncontrollable.
Asking you a million questions and wanting to hug you for as long and as tight as she can.
Kisses, “I love yous,” excitement, annoyance.
“Can we get a pet octopus?
Oh pretty pretty please?
Can I cut my hair or dye it bright pink?”
“You hate pink” you say, but there she goes again.
Down down down the rabbit hole.
Off again she goes.
Hair flying in the breeze, that perfume you bought her still on your shirt.
Irri- irri- irritate- irritation.
The day very next, not even 24 hours yet,
Tears falling down her face, rivers of black eyeliner.
She doesn’t get out of bed.
“Baby what’s wrong?”
Nothing is ever truly wrong.
It’s like a weight on her chest, suppressing her every move.
A deep, black hole in the pit of her stomach, isn’t that what she said?
Misery at its finest. Almost like she’s already dead.
Why put up with her then?
Why ride this roller coaster?
Why hold her tight when she laughs?
Why hold her tight when she cries?
You see, why would anyone in the first place?
In fact, there’s no perks to dating a bipolar girl.
Not one.
Not at all.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
AZANIA
I Azania ikruqukile kukubanjwa
I Azania idiniwe ziimbumbulu ezisuka kutshaba
I Azania iphelelwe ngamandla okubamba iintlanganiso
Iminyaka elandelelanayo kungekho nkqubela phambili
I Azania iphalele ngoku kukusebenzela nina, mabhulu,bantu abamhlophe.ABELUNGU.
Pha ezidolophini
I Azania idikiwe kukunigrumbela igolide
I Azania ifuna ukugrumbela iintsana zayo igolide
I Azania idiniwe, I Azania idiniwe
I Azania ikruqukile kukudanduluka kunye nokulila.
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 3:40 AM UTC
--------
wait a minute, nullify a doubt shade
shine on
now from when shine on was thought to mean
ignor.
in the olden days, shine it on, meant, ignore whatever
was urging
eee merge merge merge as I was going
dive
dive
dive kplunkthunked heavy heart, heavyhead, heavy hand
heave, **
its off to work we go,
lift the spirits of this old man, put laughing children
in his ya'd, yah we say jah, we say no aitch
and we say glory all the same, next
is ever after now is full of life.
So give it y'best. That's what coach angels say.
So we can categorize angels, if we wish,
or if the spirit that comforts us, soothes our trepidity,
calms our fear of stupidity exposure,
or academe memeself infection,
we may take Gebser's five stage program for a ride,
click eh eee ha I
mean
cliché has the e automaticall em-pha-s-ized, hypenatewait
a minute once too often and you gin gain ing alt alte alter a
aaa alter native be
ing ding… gnoshit UFO?
No, Jesus, it is an act, a show, we put it on the internet
and some guy used it to start a religion,
and some body, some institortured tonsured reality,
has to die a bloodless death.
So, that is a brief as to where this course change has
put, yest out is the word for our state,
put out, however, earlier in
us, the we who hold certain truth self evidently
ex-static…
shhhh life is too interesting to ignor at the moment
listen magic stage minds in my grand children
laughing in my hall
go quiet.
Then reappear, in the kitchen, far away.
Apr 25, 2021
Apr 25, 2021 at 3:02 PM UTC
Poetry people pastime
producing pleasant poems positively
preparing pleasant productive
pleasurable peaces
PHA's permanently
Paul
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 2:12 PM UTC