"pontificating" poems
She also underwent breast reduction surgery in 1992, and has said on the subject:
"I really love my body and the way it is right now. There's something very awkward about women and their ******* because men look at them so much. When they're huge, you become very self-conscious. Your back hurts. You find that whatever you wear, you look heavy in. It's uncomfortable. I've learned something, though, about ******* through my years of pondering and pontificating, and that is:
Men love them, and I love that."
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
vanishing hope
for consumption as a way of life
obese children shovel pharmaceuticals
down the throats of the infirm
internally developing low-tone hymns
relating to slow death by corporate greed –
albino judicators
pass melanin laws
felonizing the populace
perpetuating the proletariat
while pontificating
on the post 9/11 society –
isolated rabble-rousers
screaming at eggshell walls
dislodge tacks holding together
the fabric of American culture
with ingrown and chewed fingernails
flailing armies
think back to trench warfare –
robust midwives mediate
heated discussions
as the United Nations blindly
support U.S. imperialism
looking for kickbacks
from energy companies
globalization giving all humanity
incurable S.T.D.’s –
the last free house mouse
bounds betwixt the ruins
energetically sniffing the rubble
seeking some small morsel
to satisfy its hunger –
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
Shakespeare’s Dog
in the theater tonight, the notion of a poem-potion
courtesy of Shakespeare's dog came unbidden
So when home arrived, was unsurprised that this
very peculiar pug was farting before my own front door.
get lost, I announced got what I need from your boss,
but before I could kick him across the floor,
the pug spake thusly:
*this dog knows the boot too well,
it is parcel of this dog's life of no quality,
but if you give me shelter tonite, I will provide,
share some of Speare's un-Published Works
and you can claim it as your own!*
kicked that dog across the room,
(having pity earlier I let him in and enter)
told Jim, (that’s what I called him)
he can stay the night, or long as the sun rises up
and goes down unbidden, but, if I ever
caught him plagiarizing, selling sonnets on the side,
I would report him to the ASPCA and the Poet’s Union.
The American Society for the Poets of Conscience Alive -
might have his low hanging ***** cut off in retribution.
he laughed out loud, rhyming funny, pontificating:
*well mate,
thanks for the soliloquy,
me ***** long time gone,
but what I know and what I’ve seen
if tale-told you, and you were to listen,
you would keep me around as fodder
for your artistic soul.
in return chappie,
you need only provide me a rug, a fire,
A/C for the languid summer eves,
fodder for me body, and your boots,
far removed from my hindquarters.*
We spoke much thereafter,
turns out he served his poet-masters
in many ways, more than a mere footstool.
his snoring keeps me awake some twenty years later.
his love for country music makes me put him on nice days,
outdoors, his headphones securely strapped round his double chins.
ugh that pug. became my best becoming love, old friend,
one of us will pass someday and an elegy composition,
the other devotee will furnish sadness utterly becoming.
so if a farting pug before your door you’ve found,
take him in, give him water, an amply supply please
of Carrie, Trisha and Chaplin-Carpenter for his immortal soul,
but beware, he might try to sell you
some of my words, as your own.
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 1:31 PM UTC
This is to all those misfits
To the Romeo car-washing in Inglewood inlets
To the Hippy selling crystals on the Venice boardwalk
The Magician swallowing 8-balls at the Huntington Beach peer
The Rapper selling CDs in the Ranch Market parking lot
The **** tatting in a makeshift garage
The Poet slinging chapbooks at cafes and rec centers…
Not androids pontificating from lecterns
But grimy roots burrowing deep
Seismic rumblings toppling down
Insured ivory towers
Smashing pilled-paradigms beneath Docs
Hustling and slinging
In the forbidden outshacks of civilization
In tents, over barbed-wire, beside shards
Desperate and burning
For neither Truth or Beauty
But for LIFE
They do not tap wrists
No, they thump chests
To feel it beat
To feel it rage
For fugitive fugues
For new eternities
They embrace
********** romance
Graveyard necromance
The holy hunger for change
Defying commercials and charts
Shivering and howling on streets
Waging guerrilla war
Liberating cubicled-hearts
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 8:20 PM UTC
Dont hate me cuz I am beautiful
Looking Hijabi-licious for Allah, devoutly dutiful
Shaking your head at me cuz I cover
Wouldn’t take you nor your wingman as a lover
Glaring at me crazily cuz I’m veiled
An ocean of chastity you’ve never sailed
And you’re all alarmed cuz I’m devout
I’m hijab-tastic! Not even a single toe is out!
You can quit cat-calling me too; Cuz I’m chaste
Aint’ no welcome sign wrapped ‘round this waist
Tryna peer pressure me cuz I’m concealed
And ain’t out here tryna cop a feel
Pontificating that I’m oppressed cuz I’m different
“miss Muhammed is much too modest, we like ‘em ignorant”
And you’re kinda curious cuz u cant cuddle this Jelly
Joker, Lord knows ur stupid tail ain’t ready
So don’t hate cuz you, your boy, and your girl cant touch this
I’m a female manifestation of feminine justice
*********************************************
And girl, now you’re just jealous cuz you think he likes it
Said “wonder what her hair’s like when she unties it?”
Yeah She’s hoping to high heaven that I’m hot in my Hijab
So she can get me to join her in flashing flabby flabs of abs
Don’t be mean to me cuz real men find me appealing
Kindly consider concealing all the cleavage you’ve been revealing
You’re surprised because our boss recognized my mind?
Could it be because he isn’t busy admiring my behind?
I heard there was insane party where the office nicknamed you Lil “Miss loose & cray cray”
Oh, Dang. Anyway, they nicknamed me Lil Miss gotta go pray pray
You out here hating cuz my beauty is discreet
But if I was half naked, girl you know you couldn’t compete
So later for you, your lewd dude, and your half **** crew!
It’s not your pleasure that I seek
Allah, the Beautiful Fashioner, formed this physique
Verily Allah made everything valuable a challenge to achieve
Pearls, diamonds, gold, heaven, and— yes!— even ME
He, Almighty, offered me a trade treaty,
His commands for my Destiny
So I traded in ****** for decency
I traded in popularity for modesty
And I’m trading in your knuckle-headed opinion
For His highest heavenly dominion
Hijab-ulous 4 life!
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 2:34 AM UTC
Self-cut ginger locks that ooze pretension
pontificating so bluntly about "Cinema"
He buys Sociology textbooks at GoodWill,
TL;DR,
but they look good on a dusty shelf
don't they?
Mocking potential reactions to his
apparent ignorance.
A stoner who has never been high,
An existentialist who has never known what it is to die
A stargazer who has never seen the sky,
Highly expectant yet always refuses to try.
Ridicules what he doesn't understand
Taste so bland,
could swear he was conceived by the
FDA in a public school kitchen.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 2:53 PM UTC
Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?
Live for the weekend
Watch TV
Live for the weekend
Watch TV
Out on the town for the weekend
Watch TV Watch TV
Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?
Escape into your escapism
Get lost in your escapism
Trust in your escapism
Get trapped into escapism
Escape from your escapism
Escape from your self made prison
Escape the acceptance that's arisen
Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?
We're
Drones Robotics
Clones on antibiotics
Zoned hypnotic
Habitually ******
Artificially exotic
Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?
You're watching your *** life on Tv
A package holiday - pretend to be free
Post on Facebook how life should be
Focus your kids on getting a C
Lurching towards you - Hollow eyes
Pale Gaunt - Fed on lies
In systems that we all despise
Because you sat at home on your own
Or In a pub over grub
Or on a phone having a moan
Or a coffee shop pontificating
Or a lecture cleverly debating
Or an artists studio 'creating'
But you didn't ******* do anything did you?
You thought about it
You talked about it
You sat and maybe wrote about it
But you actually DID nought about it
Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?
What if we in our liberal pomposity
Followed up our curiosity
And put an end to a small atrocity
Instead of deliberating the big ones
Stop ******* telling people they're wrong and get off your **** and prove it.
Do something.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC
**Unload your vetted earnings
in the collection baskets,
small price to pay
for holy water's kickback,
God thundered an indignant snort
'pon gold filled prospered coffers
within corporate excesses
of enriched gaudy churches
wondering when HIS word
had begotten misconstrued
in clergy's interpretations
of powers' self-aggrandizement
and pontificating gratification;
whilst the huddled masses
were starving midst the pews**
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 8:15 AM UTC
If you are Christian
And ashamed of your body
Listen to Jesus
And pay attention to what he
Said about the issue
Of tissue around your bones
And how that makes you
Evil and some kind of crone.
Find where he says
Abomination is your own skin
And where he says
Shame on the shape you’re in.
Since that came from God
And by your teaching God is right
On everything he ever did,
Why this turning off of the lights?
And, if not Christian,
Isn’t it all really the same thing;
Covering up, a masquerade,
Posing, pontificating, pretending?
Why the hiding and lying
About who and what you are?
Why treat your healthy self
As if you were some big scar?
Isn’t it really that society
Has made you think badly of you,
And when the truth is told
It was not about something you do?
It’s more about what others
Think and feel and see as shame.
So quit thinking they are right,
And by all means quit taking blame.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 7:15 AM UTC
pontificating elegiac
stalwartly asymptomatic
positing logical phalluses
into fleshy vices
seeing virtues in viewpoints
seeing in the eyes of beauty the beholder
the calculating and crafting of a sapiosexual
positing calculations
into social craft
slightly autistic
whatever that means
a breed of abnormals
set against the world and themselves
bound to lose
doomed to win
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 1:45 AM UTC
six slick sardines
swim through silky
ocean blue satin thoughts
chromatea cradled cranium
containing calcified continueums and coral reefs
washing wishes wonderful
on silicon sand chipped island shores
with pious palm pods
placating pontificating
poppinjays...
writing, wriggling,
morning memories...that
meander through a mountainless mind....mine
after too many mojito's on the morrow...
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
Religious zeal and explosive prowess make incendiary bedfellows
searing calculating moralism where all fall short and deserve to suffer
self righteous corrupted calumny put forth in a sally of sectarian selectivity
your ilk is heading for Hell and I'm (already there) not
fanatical zealots marginalize intellectuals with their mythical mire of mucked up claptrap and copious lack of a priori specificity
a glorified preposterous plethora of pompous pontificating platitudes
the sins of others they deplore but of themselves they don't keep score
Sunday's best is Sunday's worst
you sanctimonious ******** just can't leave people alone
who elected you to point fingers anyway
Jesus was born in a barn to an unmarried woman
And your mommy got shtuped when you were conceived too
you don't walk on water you insolent impertinent fool
the brain police can't wait for Sunday's
oh the satisfaction of a mutual admiration society
knee-jerk hackneyed pavlovian dog speak
Is anything anymore real if you jump around and shout about it
recipients of adulates get accustomed to sycophants
fawning complacent obsequious kiss ***** and Sunday suck-ups
pass the plate
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
You see it all the time
Poems strung out on pain
Shooting up words
destroying refrains
People disguised in their disguise
Pontificating truth in fact lies
Will we be dressed in black tie upon the death as we say adios , goodbye ?
Make this coda dance as the music reaches the sky
Oct 9, 2024
Oct 9, 2024 at 4:41 PM UTC
smoking his "peace pipe",
Pontificating about
this and that,
he doesn't know a *******
thing,
but he has an opinion about
everything,
always certain
seldom right,
you'd be glad
you're not
his kid or his wife.
The old guy with the peace
pipe,
don't ask him anything,
he'll tell you about
everything.
You're ****** if you do,
you're ****** if you don't,
better go elsewhere
while the getting is good.
There are details you
don't want to even know,
you don't gotta love 'em,
they don't love you.
But when you're looking
in his eyes while he's
smoking his pipe,
you just know
in your heart
it's going to
be alright.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
You don't know
What a genius I am
Pontificating stuffed shirt
At the head of the classroom
With your precious red ink
And credentialed soul
Do you bleed as I do?
Do you dream in words
So painfully beautiful
You marvel at belonging to them?
You don't know
Who I am or will be
Call it egotism or delusion
But behind this meek acceptance
Of your measures and jibes
My pride roils like lava
For once, I will not speak my mind
I must show you instead
And show you, I shall
Feb 11, 2010
Feb 11, 2010 at 8:40 PM UTC
You want masterpieces
but I need time.
My thoughts are formless luminescent snakes
a flickering halo
tiny fluid flakes
I’ve no control of.
It’s not in me to create a
masterpiece
right now
I’m 16.
Did Shakespeare show
potential at 16? Did he win
a golden
key?
Then why me?
Teach me the secrets
of time and the universe.
Whisper them sweetly as you ******
I’ve nothing to say.
For years I will think of nothing
and then one day maybe something and
that will feel like a cold shower
Who’s the Brontë sister everyone forgets?
Does everything matter or nothing? Is it a crime to put my pen on paper without a meaningful idea does anything mean nothing or everything?
Am I simply killing trees pontificating
needlessly?
Do my inky ponderings amount to wankings?
What does it take in this modern age of information
to do something great
with a piece of pen and paper?
I am wasting my day each day doing what you tell me from the minute I wake up at five fifteen to the moment I walk back through my door twelve hours later
my day is
structured
around a list of concepts chosen for me by whom.
Of what do I write of what I know if I know
not and nothing
I know
Wordplay my wankings amount to
hours
I need to
work
on writing and
wanking.
My vocabulary is **** because I’ve no time
for classics and all I do is watch Netflix.
Some people say to me often sometimes
“I wish I was black.”
and sometimes maybe what I want to say is
**** you.”
but what almost always I say is “Me too.”
The mother who birthed me can be labeled only white
my father spent his childhood playing on islands
and together they made something
truly
neither this nor that
and it
always sometimes
drives me mad.
Your face is a map that leads home to me.
Mother may I
lay down
to sleep?
Pumpkin carvings in a row
I’ve nothing to say
for there’s nothing I know.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
You all do realize I hope that
Republicans McConnell, Rubio,
Chaffetz, Hatch, & Paul Ryan
all forcefully denied Obama's
2013 request to Congress for
authorization to strike in Syria
after Assad's use of chemical
weapons in the city of Ghouta,
they all answered an emphatic
No! ...
with various shades of political
double-talk, America First, &
"oh look where it might lead"
pontificating & conservative
posturing,
but now! ...
oh now when Trump launches
a missile strike they're all praise
and "God Bless America" &
proud, & pumped & feeling
like real Americans again,
oh good god the hypocrisy,
the shallow interest driven
ethics, the lies, the brazen
pretence & self-serving
awfulness of these cold
calculating humans of
ours.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC
I’ve stopped writing
serious verse
cos every time I try
it only gets worse
I’ve stopped writing
on dignified subjects
and such proper themes
for every time I try
I roll down laughing
and the Public Library staff
lead me out by my ears
I’ve stopped pontificating
on divine matters
and such holy subjects
as mentioning God
and Angels, and Heaven and Hell
cos every time I try
we have such propagandists
quoting scriptures
and holding up revelations,
all these drugged believers
abusing reason and religion
after they’ve finished
with the children
and I do not discourse
on noble subjects
and themes befitting heroes
and great nations
for every time I try
the language slips to f-starters
and the idiom of the slums and gutters
and the curses of the homeless
so I sing about
what pleases me
and those who are easy
read if they will
cos they know
it doesn’t matter if they do or don’t ;
for the sun will still shine
the next day
and they’ll find better poems
in each sun ray
that pierces their skin
and wakes them up to life
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 3:40 PM UTC
OF this I,m sure: my hands
are
little hammers pontificating on your head
a hard oval split and ******* of your tender blood
i wonder maybe why you don't try(atleast)to move
a bit. shift maybe slightly. but i don't think you can
so i guess
i will maybe
keep maybe
yes(iwill)
keep gently
smashingyourface
Sep 1, 2010
Sep 1, 2010 at 2:33 PM UTC
They look just like gophers, popping out of holes
my co-workers, and neighbors, burrowed in like moles
The offices align the walls, where management abounds
pontificating from the pulpit, polishing their crowns
No longer there I dwell, my escape a thing of myth
a place to not return again, somewhere I'll never miss
The easy employee logic, that management confounds
reads like a Dilbert moment, so quiet, and yet so **** profound
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 1:29 PM UTC
Am I alive?
If you look at this life as whole;
even though you cannot, -BZZZkkkSSt-
Deaf ears and ignorant words flowing from the gleefully jabbering jaw.
A rowdy room with a fat white man pointing to a smiling childs doom.
Pontificating lifestyle changes to a ***** indulgence and swift isolation all with -Click-Click-Click-
The following is a message from you.
To wake up, I need a form in which to pour myself, no longer can I burst forth with such wild abandon of originality; I need the common moniker of dependency and consistency. We humans do not shed our metaphorical skins in cyclical existence, but don them slowly as an arthritic old man covers his aging body after a bath, covering up our old worn through thoughts.
Do you hear me?
What goes in an outward direction of an existing gravity well and does not have enough force to exit said gravity well will reach peak velocity before finally losing momentum.
-BZkkZZKSSTkT-
This world saddens me,
I wish to take a trip, away.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 9:16 PM UTC
If after a certain age
you cannot be your own counsel
forget everything and go become a Socialist
they do a good line in regurgitating Bullshite
With mixed up minds
and ideology of hate and envy
Devils Advocates on temporary release from the madhouses
they say politics is spin and opposing sanity is power
The boring tonton Macoute
fantasists and deluded failures in hidden affrays
no rhyme or logic, the demagogues of the brainless and losers
paranoid semi-illiterates pontificating on their superiors affairs
What the blind butler saw meets what life below stairs reakons
as they drain the remaining drops of champagne flutes they ferry
in silver trays back to the scullery
and in that familiar Valhalla, they are gods who rule the world
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 9:36 PM UTC
Pacific, pacifist pampered papa
parading par excellent paragon
parent (parenthetically parochial
particularly partisan) parvenu
passive, passionately paternalistically patient,
paunchy, peaceably pepped, perfectionist,
perceptive, perennially perky, permissively
persevering, persistently personable, perspicuous,
pertinent, phenomenally philanthropic, philharmonic
picturesquely pious, pioneering, piquantly pithy,
playfully pleasant, pleasurably plucky, plummy,
poetically poignant, politely pontificating, popular,
positively potent, powerfully practiced pragmatist,
praiseworthy, prayerfully precious, precise
predominant, preeminently preferable, preparedly
preponderant, presently president, prestigiously
prevailing, priceless, princely, principally pristine,
privately privileged, prized, proactively procreative,
prodigiously productive, proficiently profitable,
progressively prominant, promisingly prompt,
prophetically propitious, prospectively protective,
proudly proven provocative, prudent psyched, puissant,
punctilious, punctually purposeful.
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC
the other day
you asked me
what I thought about you
and I did not really
answer your question
we all have our idiosyncracies
they make us unique
and sometimes
a pain in the neck
being overpunctual
or always late
staging an appearance
or fading into the background
griping gruffily
or glossing things over
with sweet talk
verbalizing everything
or very little
sticking to long-made plans
or making your mind up
again
in the last minute
swingin wildly
or staying calm
pontificating on what is right
or listening quietly
to what others have to say
indicating your respect
for what they want to say
being a control freak
or leaving people enough leeway
to find their own approach
worrying permanently
about friends, children, parents, family, the world
or believing that they
can occasionally
do without us
there is a fine balance
difficult to maintain
and more often than not
we fall off on one side
or the other
from that narrow ridge
of mutual acceptance
grow irritated or disgusted
in wild moments
tell her or him that THIS IS IT
and s/he can leave
the earlier the better
and NEVER come back
when such tempestuous events
give way
to calmer contemplation
we remember
that time is short
life is precious
and love is what makes it bearable
and we reconsider
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
sometimes i like to write
in a hurried spontaneous
fashion without punctuation
or second thought which is fine
as as one grows longer in the olden
wolf tooth spontaneous acts becoming
rather short and might limit themselves in
the god **** supermarkets or something
but these poems if indeed that is what then
might be called last for quite a short time
this illuminates certain aspects and darkens
the other things sometimes i am amazed when
they make any sense at all but to be always considering
pontificating overthinking in every god **** excuse my
french is worse then dying and as the people on the cathode
ray say or the man in his office says just doing it oh lord so
let the first things be first of course this may end in prison
or hospital or the like but there are those and i salute and drink
the finest red to their brave and adventures health warning..music
break..
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 4:48 AM UTC