"phillip" poems
I thought Van Gogh had it figured out
he fell in love
and cut off his ear
he died july 29 1890 from a self inflicted gun shot wound
He painted
He painted the sky
He painted men women bedrooms flowers shoes street corners chairs boats and fields
I thought Basquiat had it figured out
******
NYC
He painted memories in the present
August 12 1988
NYC apartment ****** overdose
I thought Picasso
I thought Warhol
I thought Stalin
******
Buddha
Had it figured out
but sand fills our shoes in dry texan sun
and the dog howls
howls for its mother
howls for its brother
howls for its sister
I thought the dog had it figured out
eating insects
smelling my hands
eating the ham on the floor
I thought Hemingway had it figured out
Late at night
reading Old Man and The Sea
Suicide July 2 1961
12-gauge English shotgun
I thought Fitzgerald had it figured out
I thought Ginsberg
I thought Kerouac did too
drinking across the neck and back bone and gutter lips of America and back
I thought Bukowski had it figured out
the cigarettes
the wine
the women
the type writer
the sad nights accompanied by cockroaches and a city that is indigestible
I thought Phillip Glass had it figured out
Beethoven
going Def
Mozart lost in his grave
writing symphonies for Death and his cruel tripled eyed angels
I thought
The drunkards were lost
The Junkies were ankle-less
The Mothers were done for
The Fathers had given in
The Young
True
The Elderly
gazing through the bifocals of heaven and hell
The Prisoners cemented in Time
I thought the Dead
were the ones who published our Dreams
I thought the painter
had it figured out
So I painted
I thought the pianist
had it figured out
So I played the Piano
and listened to the bilingual codes of the keys
I thought the Ballet dancer
had it figured out
So I watched her
I studied the movements
and the bruised toes
looking for a design of an answer
I thought the Poet
had it figured out
So I wrote a poem
and I saw the world.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
Resonate sounds
Confounding to my ears
Is it Phillip Glass?
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 2:14 PM UTC
Should I hang with my friend who I haven't seen in a year or go meet this tinder girl?
Someone New - Hozier
I just can't put my finger on it.
something about her is goregous.
Baby Got Back - Jonathon Coulton
You're right. It's totally her ***
Ugly Faces - Watsky
Shh, spotify, be nice. It's not her fault.
Do Better - Say Anything
Okay okay, you're right. I'll bring her home.
All Time Low - Jon Bellion
Oh c'mon, She's not that bad...
Proove Me Wrong - Dub FX
Well like... her personality is pretty cute.
Some Girls Are Crazy - Echo Movement
I can't beleive I just had *** in my backseat.
Glad You Came - The Wanted
Yikes. All the girls dropped from this party. it's just gonna be me and my three dude friends.
*To Many ***** On The Dancefloor - Flight Of The Concords*
I completely agree. Should i go or just come up with a ****** excuse to leave?
*You Don't Have To Be A ********** - Flight Of The Concords*
You're right i'll leave. What should i tell them?
Working - I Fight Dragons
No i already told them i got the day off. That wouldn't work.
My Buddy's Back - Big D and The Kids Table
Oh perfect!
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit
Yeah I should go to bed.
Let me finish this poem first.
Go To Bed - Ookla The Mok
I'm stuck on this line.
What's a good word to describe Port Veritas? Like... one word?
Home - Phillip Phillips.
That's adorable... you're so right.
See You Again - Wiz Kahlifa
**** you spotify that was super uncalled for. Now i'm bummed out.
Get Over It - Ok Go
Dude. That's like super insensitive
Ungrateful - Streetlight Manifesto
No i'm not ungrateful. I love you, you just don't need to make me cry when i'm down in the dumps like that.
Lean Into The Fall - Mona
I guess you're right. Fine. Thank you.
All The Stars In Texas - Ludo
That's the nicest thing that anyones ever said to me. I like when you do that.
Like or Like Like - Miniature Tigers
Uhh, i guess like like. You're pretty much my favorite app.
R U Mine? - Arctic Monleys.
I think maybe you're moving a little fast spotify... i don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys
This is getting weird. I'm going to bed.
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie
Okay no, seriously i'm turning you off.
Don't Unplug Me - All Caps.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
Einstein and Phillip
Hand in hand on the beach
It's an OTP
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC
You see a kaleidoscopic spongesque speck pushed into a blur over your vision,
Sitting on air & feathers.
You sit on air rather than feathers,
Incased in drywall,
Surrounded by your worldly possessions,
Drowning in sweat,
Suffocating from air,
The hum of coupled fans waltzes’ into your skull,
A metallic mind prints mass media
Via a melodramatic faux-vintage situation into your skull,
There’s the pitter-patter of post-traumatic pondering in your skull,
A Mexican Coca-Cola clutched in your left hand,
Phillip-Morris owns the pocket on your breast so that they sit closest to your heart,
Pabst Blue Ribbon has carved rights to your liver,
You have an over analytic sense of humor and well-being.
Now you decode your day.
Now you chastise your intuition for lustful engagements with shadow people.
Though you have no qualms with this,
You enjoy yourself from time to time.
But cannot you imagine a more climatic proposition,
In a less disposable universe?
Where corners are cut,
Shoving dignity & quality out the door
Is where impractical risks are made.
However,
All you ponder now is the blur pushed into the edge of your eye.
Perhaps it is a microorganism rendezvousing with another microorganism.
Though they would have no concept of predetermination.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
his mate fancied himself
Dr. Watson, or even Holmes,
in a past life, but with the name,
Jamsheed Razavizadeh, his friends,
who chopped the proud pronunciation
to J-Razz, laughed at such
a great notion
not Phillip, whose one brother
had drowned only last Hallows Eve,
which made Phillip a believer
in all things
from school, his mates walked the same lane
past the spot, where his mother still lay wreaths
every Monday morn, the vicar giving her
the tired ones each Sabbath
Monday Phillip took the long way home
not wanting to see the flowers, on their own
eve of wilting, a pitiable reminder
fresh things don't last
J-Razz was the only one who walked
the long route with him, his own brother
in the loam near Tehran, drowned himself
by fire, not water
each week, the wreath lay
but a day, and the two from different mothers
would again take the shorter path, where
they would find slight solace in silence,
their journey home often
in merciful miasma
near river's edge
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC
First, if I am comatose for a while pre-death, don't let them call me a fighter.
I'm probably not fighting it.
It's probably the first time I've been able to relax in a decade.
Second, keep my death off the internet.
Tell my friends of my demise with handwritten notes delivered by white-gloved butlers with somber expressions.
Tell my enemies by sitting on their chests and poking them in the forehead repeatedly until they guess how it happened. It shouldn't take long.
Third, my friends from high school will immediately try to design stickers for their car windows with my name on them and a graphic of dance shoes or track shoes or my college mascot.
You are not to allow this.
A sticker denoting the death of a loved one will not keep fellow motorists from noticing that my friends from high school **** at driving.
Not permitted at the funeral:
Gerber daisies
poetry
blue jeans
any ex-boyfriend I refer to by something other than their name (i.e. "the fat hipster I used to hang out with.")
Encouraged at the funeral:
Hugs - everyone must hug
lots of appropriately sad, yet tasteful songs sung by my musically-minded loved ones (may I suggest "In Light of Time" by Phillip E. Silvey?)
And make sure they bury me in the blue dress.
Last, for every story they tell about me where I was kind or selfless or funny or caring,
make sure someone also tells the story where I got too drunk at a frat house and made out with a kid from upstate New York and then spent four hours passed out and/or puking on the floor of the communal bathroom in Ashley's building,
or the one where I punched Savannah in third grade,
or the one where I rolled a car for no particular reason.
Remember me as I was.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 9:59 AM UTC
there are people i've forgotten
some for better, some for worse
in places i have been along the way
some were good and some were rotten
some sow's ears and some silk purse
there are many that i think of every day
Take the time, give everyone a chance
Take a stranger, and treat them like a friend
Life is nothing more than a big dance
And you just don't know when the music's gonna end
i've had meals with lowly beggars
I've sat down with queens and kings
Life's funny ...if i really had to say
that the people i remember
of all my time here on this earth
are the sow's ears,
and the beggars come what may
Take the time, give everyone a chance
Take a stranger, and treat them like a friend
Life is nothing more than a big dance
And you just don't know when the music's gonna end
some have angels on their shoulders
some have devil's in their heart
but, you will not know, until you let them in
but of the people i've forgotten
and those kept close in my heart
the best ones never care what might have been
Take the time, give everyone a chance
Take a stranger, and treat them like a friend
Life is nothing more than a big dance
And you just don't know when the music's gonna end
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 8:43 PM UTC
Today a baby boy was born
The future heir to the British throne
Remember July 22nd was the date
Proud parents William & Kate
Every child born today will receive a Silver Penny
A collectors item, for so many
First we watched William & Kate marry
He has a really cool Uncle in Prince Harry
I bet he will show him some tricks
A bouncing baby boy 8lb 6,
A baby, a toddler, then into a little nipper
Look after him Auntie Pippa.
We will watch him grow up and ready to take his place
The news confirmed on the easel at Buckingham Palace
Well done to Kate Middleton
To us a Prince, to you a son.
Prince Charles is your Grandad
The Paparazzi will go mad
One day old and already on Twitter trending
Who will help, with the Royal winding
William & Kate must be so happy
One hopes One's been practicing changing a *****
Born in St Mary's, Lindo Wing
A child that will be our future King
Everyone is so happy for them
Born on a Monday 4.24pm
You're Great GrandMother is called Her Majesty the Queen
We'll watch him grow into a teen
For Prince Phillip four male generations
Now the country starts with the celebrations
The new addition to the Royal Family
The future of the British Monarchy
The Windsor family and the family of Middleton
A boy to bring them so much fun
Proud watching down over all times will be his Nanna
Brought up in the memory of Princess Diana
The name now we have to all guess
For now we call him His Royal Highness
For the country this brings so much joy
A beautiful, bouncing Royal Baby Boy
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
A bold pirate
vanquished King Phillip’s hapless galleons,
bathed himself in gold peso coins
manic fingers feverishly caressing the lucre.
Mindless with greed
he sailed into rough waters
where great whales watched
as gales ripped the grommets
that held the cords that secured the sails
and the great sheets collapsed
like canvas shrouds.
Still the pirate caressed each coin
ignoring the rogue waves
oblivious to the grand schools of whales
gathering around.
Singing in chorus
the great behemoths mused
patient in their knowing
man’s treasure destiny is always
on the floor of the deep ocean.
The captain sank with his ship
his pockets laden with lustrous gold
and his silk shirt billowed in the current
like a flag announcing his descent
to a place where he could not breathe
and nothing could be bought
and the whales slaps their flukes
on the water’s surface
in thunderclaps of applause.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 7:08 AM UTC
There was a long road
from the church to the farm house
and ten acres of land was never enough to disappear
but we tried our very best
the fields spanned out in wooden fence borders
until they met with dirt side roads
sheep, cows, and horses
and mud tracked jeans
we built dens in the woods
out of whatever we could scavenge
with wheat hanging limp from lips
we graduated to the days of the pretender
and started memorizing names like
RJ Reynolds and Phillip Morris
our fingers grew as yellow as our teeth
Tobacco Road Hobos
sticking up a thumb
with a Kamel Red pinched between index and middle
that's the gun metal blue smoke screen
rattling lungs in the morning
scorched throats at night
and a pair of mud tracked jeans
Kings of Tobacco Road
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
It starts off, I suppose,
being an escape.
From harsh noise,
from the crushing weight of suburbia.
Somewhere along the line
(a month, two years)
the reason changes.
It's gratifying having a secret;
the gas station clerk doesn't know,
your parents, your girlfriend,
your professor, your little sister.
They don't know you have enough dope to last three days.
They don't know your only concern is getting another score.
You smile, you sigh,
you meet for coffee,
you dig through the thrift rack,
you go to see a movie.
you don't smack in their view,
you don't snort in their presence.
That's your secret.
You no longer receive pleasure from the dope, the high is only to chase away the low.
You're different, you're set apart,
you have a secret and its consistently exhilarating.
Eventually, if say, you leave for three months, they'll notice the twenty pounds you lost, they'll notice the paling of your skin, they'll notice the apathy in your gaze, and they'll say
'Hey buddy, you doing ok?'
and you'll say
'Don't worry about me lover friend, rice and beans, rice and beans and easy living'
Phillip K **** says he can fairly well sum up sober living with one quote he heard from an ex ****** That quote is "if I had known it was harmless, I would have killed it myself"
you laugh until ya cry
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
I can see Watermarks on the ceiling
I can see Jesus and he's frowning at me
I see a dead seal on the beach
The old man says he's already saved it three times this week
Guess it just wants to die
I would wanna die too
With people putting oil into my air
But to be fair, I've done my share
Guess everybody's got their different point of view
I was walking down Sunset Strip, Phillip Island, not Los Angeles
Got me some hot chips and a cold drink
Took a sandy seat on the shore
There's a paper on the ground, it makes my headache quite profound
As I read it out aloud
It said "The Great Barrier Reef it ain't so great anymore
It's been ***** beyond belief, the dredgers treat it like a *****
I drank 'til I was sinking, sank 'til I was thinking
That I'm thankful for this view
We either think that we're invincible or that we are invisible
When realistically we're somewhere in between
We all think that we're nobody but everybody is somebody else's somebody
Don't ask me what I really mean
I am just a reflection
Of what you really wanna see
So take you want from me
Satellites on the ceiling
I can see Jesus and she's smiling at me
All I wanna say is...
I'm just a reflection of who I've always wanted to be
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
Waking thoughts
Lyrics to a song
Shuffle through the playlist
Find the perfect one.
Too many can describe
My mental alibi
So I just take a little time
For the lyrics to fill my mind.
Growing up there was no blue sky rhyme
Metallica, pink Floyd and the cure
Were the ones to describe my youthful shrine.
Older plays
Took some blues away
How is it that I wasn't born
In the Woodstock age?
The doors, temptations, Jim Croce
Carol king
God! It's so godly when they sing.
Then I had to hit that puberty
Like a brick to the face
Picking out my own musical taste.
Adema, korn, Dresden dolls, tool.
Stone sour, shinedown, nine inch nails
Stone temple pilots and more as well.
Give me lyrics that could scream
All the screaming out of me.
Little did I know that in my scene
I thought my music was defining me.
I'm not music. Just flesh and bone
Maybe I should expand my treble tone.
Throw some chicks in there, you know?
No one should have a song on repeat
And have that be the song you hear when we meet.
So I searched for some musical relief
I enjoy a good scream sometimes
But that's not all I breathe.
Some motion city, say anything,
Yeah I like akon, lady sovereign,
A perfect circle and deftones
Classical Mozart and Beethoven makes me feel right at home.
Silver mt Zion, some Phillip glass,
Michael nyman, now I've achieved some class.
Pink when I feel like pop or brass
Punch guys in the **** cause I'm a chick
Hell yes!
No not really. The **** part, I mean.
But I actually really do like pink.
Jon Bon jovi or Otis redding
When I want to think of this guy that I'm loving.
I might have lost track of the lyrics I was originally thinking
But with my selection I'm derailing
With musical tasting.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
I am from the battered symbol and
Dolce and Gabbana perfume and
Adam's peanut butter
I am from the honeysuckle vines
Creeping up the pillars and twirl around my ankles
It tasted like exotic spices and smelled like pond water
I am from the blueberry bush
The lavander rushes
Curling softly around my rusted heart shaped wind chime
I am from Christman Eve birthday cakes and
Writing my name in charcoal on cliff faces
From Tom, and Phillip and Gerard Butler
I am from the judges and
The singers
From marshmallow farms and
Watermelon seeds
I am from the Kool Aid Communion and
Stolen animal crackers
I am from Providence and ancient watchtowers
Bangers and Mash and ginger beer
From the crickets, wickens and picket fences
The bright red porcupine
I am from heron beaks and the green shuttered house
With the bow and arrow creek
The plum cherry trees
Young ****** noses
And the note I keep in my pocket to remind me who I am
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 7:48 PM UTC
"It's Toasted"
Something about that red circle calls to me.
Something about R.J. Reynolds appeals to me more than Phillip Morris
and Santa Fe Tobacco Company.
Maybe all it is is the classic red circle.
Or maybe it's the nostalgia.
Maybe it's knowing that 4 out of 5 of my dead ancestors smoked Lucky Strikes.
But oh boy, to get one burning and in my lungs is bliss.
Whether it's in the morning, accompanied by a cup of coffee
or during school after sneaking out of class.
The smoke that fills my head clears the smoke that filled my brain.
And shadowed my eyesight.
And made me shake.
Any cigarette will do it
save for maybe those God awful Fortunas.
How about this weather we've been having.
And how about them Yankees.
But boy, oh boy, how about those Strikes.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
Another dab of red on her lip
A final spray of fragrance
Baubles cuffing her dainty wrists
And a spring in her step
She steps out and steps into the car
Their eyes meet, a sparkle across one of her 32
He nods with a giggle, "Finally, the day has arrived..."
Zestful fingers turn the key, the engine revs up
And like always, she completes his sentence
With a bright one across her face
"Yes, the day we set each other free."
And together they burst
While little Macy and Phillip
Make promises, young in love
From afar, below the cliff,
They see light shine so bright, like fire burst
And perhaps, they were only firecrackers
Thinks Phillip, his innocent mind
Unable to tell a blast from a burst
But Macy knows, for she caused the brakes to fail
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
I am from the battered cymbal and
Dolce and Gabbana perfume and
Adam's peanut butter
I am from the honeysuckle vines
Creeping up the pillars and twirl around my ankles
It tasted like exotic spices and smelled like pond water
I am from the blueberry bush
The lavender rushes
Curling softly around my rusted heart shaped wind chime
I am from Christmas Eve birthday cakes and
Writing my name in charcoal on cliff faces
From Tom, and Phillip and Gerard Butler
I am from the judges and
The singers
From marshmallow farms and
Watermelon seeds
I am from the Kool Aid Communion and
Stolen animal crackers
I am from Providence and ancient watchtowers
Bangers and Mash and ginger beer
From the crickets, wickens and picket fences
The bright red porcupine
I am from heron beaks and the green shuttered house
With the bow and arrow creek
The plum cherry trees
Young ****** noses
And the note I keep in my pocket to remind me who I am
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
Who he once was deteriorated away,
tubes and IV's interlocked with his frail frame.
With impractical faith we persisted,
and hoped he would respond to his name.
Infuriated with my uncertain Lord,
I begged and bargained,
my knees shaking on the tile floor.
A naive and scared child,
great hope had generated delusion.
until Doctor White Coat's unhappy news,
a stern and brutal intrusion.
Then a shadow was cast over her face
it was a sadness in her eyes.
I harbored her pain atop my own
as it radiated, she cried.
Death stole my mother's love-
I couldn't help but feel that loss
that difficulty keeping pace, taking breaths.
It was a lie to hold this cross.
Generic cards and casserole plates,
many faces of pity and "I'm sorry's"
that just couldn't relate.
I envied their laughter, their happy small talk,
passing strangers with contentment in their walk.
Sure they do not know or maybe they could not understand,
how much pain we felt.
For this loss- of a father, a husband-
abruptly pushed us under Fate's upper hand.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 5:34 AM UTC
LOVE *is the story of sleeping beauty and prince phillip.
The worlds a Neverland if a lover doesn't wake us up.
Just like Cinderella who had fear to walk on glass but not in the glass shoe,
she found her a lover that fits with her like glue
Just like Ariel, a fish out of water eager for a man On board.
Mulan did the same when she found love by picking up a sword.
We fight for love not just you, not just I, because without a love we could just die.*
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 8:34 AM UTC
"They **** you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were ****** up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself."
Phillip Larkin (1922 – 1985)
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
Tell my father i never learned to take apart an engine.
i dismantled limbs instead.
Tell him i tried to watch the game but fell asleep.
i went to bat for him instead.
Tell him i scoffed at the neighbor who asked to play catch.
i tossed your heart around instead.
Tell him i dated a boy before i was married.
i kissed him hard instead.
Tell him i cannot tell a drill from a driver.
i needled Phillip into my skin instead.
Tell him i struggle with simple winsors.
i knotted ties around my doorknob instead.
Tell him i burned down the house building a fire.
i lit cigarettes instead.
Tell him i shake hands like a fish.
i shook margaritas instead.
Tell him i hate buckling my seat belt.
i risked diving through the glass instead
Tell him I refused to use training wheels on my bike.
i fell off time and time again instead.
Tell my father i always did my best to get to heaven.
he left me in the worst of hell instead.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
My brother Phillip was a smooth operater
I called him. Mahatma Dandy.
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
Made them sigh.
Dandy was always flying off to somewhere.
Charming and disarming. Six feet four.
Smiling like the cat from Cheshire.
But bigger.
Dandy loved all and all loved him
A heart of gold but subject to frosty weather.
Dandy could never seem to get it all together
But. The boy. Had style.
Should have bottled it and sold it.
Easy street.
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC