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Mike Hauser Dec 2013
I met a girl
Beautiful both in and out
Only problem is
She has a ***** mouth

***** mouth, ***** mouth
You never know what will spew out...

***** mouth, ***** mouth
Afraid to take her out in a crowd...

I can tell you
I'm not a *****
I just need a girl
A little less crude

***** mouth, ***** mouth
Have you stopped to hear yourself
when that trash comes out...

***** mouth, ***** mouth
*
Do you seriously kiss your mother with that mouth...
It's bad enough hearing men cuss these days AND in front of women!
But now it looks as though the women have joined suit...Ladies Please!
Poetic T Mar 2015
Another morning in the life
Of a P.T.D, I slurped my
Juice back all  400 ml, then
Stretched up, fingers
Wiggling as mother picked
Me up.

Snuggles in the morning
Nothing better, to show I'm
Loved. But back to business,
As I turned my dummy to
The opposite side, the taste
Is better every time its turned
Soothing with each ****.

It was nearly breakfast time
A belly is never wrong,
MMmmm...
Toast and jam, I smile
At mummy with my
Cheshire Jam smiled face.
"Silly little man"
As she wipes the smudges
From all over my face.

A case to solve, was my plan,
The missing statue of
SANDMAN BOB tm.
It was here before, but now
Gone, the prized possession
Of hairy dog, as I pat his head
And he licks my face
Yuckkkk....
Doggy that was yuck, he wags
His tail and then he is off.

What a morning so much done,
Time for a nap then detective
Work to be done. I wake to
Dads voice,
"Morning little man"
"How was your nap"
As i give my answer with a
Yawn and a smile, he gives
A cuddle then off to work for
Hours of fun and playing games.

The clues to be seen the trail
To be found, for I'm
"***** Trained Detective"
And no case is to far, as
Long as I can have a nap
And a cuddle, maybe a
Little sip and a gulp, here
On look out of what is to
Be found.

Hairy dog is sleeping in his
bed, I hear a noise I hear a
Sound??
What a strange noise,
"Snoring"
"NO"
"Bottom belches"
"No funny smells"
As I lift up his blanky
Softly so not to wake doggy's sleep,
And their he is safe and sound.

"SANDMAN BOB"
"Playing hide and go seek"

Under hairy dogs nose and bottom,
As he sleeps it does squeak, it
Does beep, I lift it up and under
His paw, to surprise him when
He awakens. A tail shall wiggle
And flop around, but the case was
Solved and a happy smile found.

***** Trained Detective does it
Again, but for now it is nap time,
A new case, a new thing to be
Found. I will see you all again
Soon, But now its snuggles
Time with mummy in bed.
As I close my eyes night, night
I turn my dummy once more,
As sheep float quietly over my head.
If you like this please tell me if you think I should wrote another chapter.
Poetic T Feb 2016
Years had past since PTD's cases, all was now
Play and fun. But the little man missed
The chase of what could be found
Mysteries,
Riddles,
Enigmas
Of what was hidden from view. He was
A bright young fellow now
Six years old.
Words are longer as gurgles faded into
Memories past thoughts. He had come
Home to mummy,

"How's my little man,

"I have a loose toothy peg Mummy,

"Well no playing,
"As we don't want it lost for the tooth fairy,

So little man played with his cars
"Brummmm,
Brrruuumm,
Screecchhhh,
"That was close the baddies nearly caught us,

He played till it started to get dark, then heard
His mummy calling from down stairs.

"Little man time to get ready for bed sweet heart,

"Ok mummy I'm changing now,

A jumper did fly socks also too,
Trousers flew in the air landing waist
Side up on his head too.
Jester
Clown
Fun
Times of an imagination as he runs around.
But in to jimjams he must now do,
his favourite ones were
Captain Carrot Space Ranger.
He has all the books reading them to sleep
His favourite story before he slumbers in to dreams.

~Captain Carrots Space Race~

Trix sat in his comfy seat, his friends
All waiting for his words of as the race was
Set in the dust nebula
 Atria
Its dark in space only stars glitter.
But in the dust cloud it was like rainbows blossomed
A light show of the universal beauty.


Right my fluffiest friends its time to launch.
       3
  2
1
Rockets ignited and away they went,
Captain Trix was nibbling on a cucumber stick.
Then from no where the naughty
  Cat Captain Frost
Bashed and knocked at their ship, and off the
Race course they fell. They tumbled into a pocket of

Darkest space. Captain its  dark  in here, the lights
Faded and all was dark.
  Trix  could hear teeth chattering.

Be calm my friends, there is nothing scary in the shadows.
Take out your carrot coins, and nibble, chew,
And with that, once finger licked and all was chomped
All that was heard was trix voice, right can we all
See? yes captain carrot vison is a go.


They set a course out of this darkest place and
Out they popped into normal space, colours gleamed
As they saw they were in last place.
Rockets burst into action and they flew in
And out, weaving through the clouds
One pasted, two pasted, three pasted
Now they were in second place.


Who should be in first place naughty  Captain Frost
He had a coat as white as snow. but that was
As far as his niceness did go. He was a naughty
Kitty and everyone did know.
Sir he is blocking our path, we cant get through
Ok secret decoy time fluffy friends.

           3
     2
1
Cats attention set adrift sir, and into space it wondered,
In sight of Captain Frosts view. Out came the holding
Claws, and the space wool did bobble and excitement
Was the pleasure of kitties day. While they entertained
Themselves, Captain Trix did glide on past.
Full speed ahead as they race past the finish line.


Yawns were the calling of the night as the story
Ended as eyes blinked soon to be shut

"Mummy Captain Carrot [Trix] won the race,

"Yes he did darling and that's why meanies are always last,
"Sweet dreams my baby now off to sleep,

The night drew on as eyes slept through, and little
Mans dreams were of carrots and rabbits
That whizzed through the night sky, ZOOM.
Morning broke through his curtains and
Yawns did come and go. Slippers were
On as cold it felt, and downstairs
He wondered dressing gown and all.

"Mummy what's for breakfast?
"Was that me Mummy?

"Open wide little man, goodness me....,
"There is a gap where there should be a tooth?

"O' no I have a missing toothy peg,
"***** trained detective is on the case,
"I think I may need a new name?
"Junior Trained Detective,
"No that's not right does ring true?
"Buddy The Trained Detective.

"That's the nickname you gave me mummy,

"That's excellent little man, I love your choice,

His mummy smiles and gives him a hug and
Kisses his forehead, they search under his pillow
"Nope? Mmmm... may have to get out the cap
And magnifying glass -o

"Mummy this is too small for me?

"Don't worry little man I thought this day may come,

Out of a box she pulls his new hat out, he tries it
On, perfectly it fits on his head and his detective
Days have started again. Fist my bedroom under
The pillow I will seek my tooth be it here or there.
But pillow case removed quilt removed o' so slowly
For a tooth we don't want to lose it, but nothing appeared.

"One place now searched with a keen eye,
"Now so many other places for it to hide,

He thought of where a tooth would place hide and
Seek from its home in the mouth, under the
Bed he thought.Torch in hand he wiggled under
The wooden from and what we he see but his
Car that vanished quite a while ago, I wondered
Where that went? a sweet, a pen, a coin for the piggybank.

"Mummy its not under or over the bed,
"I looked hard, but no where can it be found,

Little man was frustrated at the thought that the
Tooth fairy would not be rewarded with a tooth.
Right let me think? he thought of that night, it
Was their in bed, when story time was read.
It was their when mummy give him a kiss goodnight.
In the morning it was gone

"Captain Carrot,
"Trix where are you,
This is no time for hide and seek,

He found him tucked in his quilt, sleeping soundly.
"There you are sorry to wake you,
He looked in his hair "Nope not there,
Looked in his tail it was white and fluffy
"Nope not there,
He thought once again? if he were
Captain Carrot where would he keep his
Best friends tooth safe if it feel out in dreamy sleep.

A smile etched across Buddies face at the thought of
Where he would keep it safe for him.
In his little fingers did search around, and then
A little white rock, no a tooth was found.
Captain Trix had kept it safe in his uniform pocket.

"Mummy, mummy,
"The case Is solved I found my tooth,
"Detective work solves a puzzling case again,

"Where was it my little man?

"Captain Carrot had it snuggly warm in his space rucksack,

"That's fantastic,
"Now where does a tooth now found go,

She smiles rubbing his hair, off to his bedroom
He runs tooth proudly in hand.
Lifting his pillow he gently places it with pride
In the place where the tooth fairy could easily
Reach and find. Leaving a special present for this
Little boy who had found his missing toothy peg.

"I think I may keep this cap,
*"Let Buddy the trained detective solve cases again soon,
Jake muler Dec 2015
The moment when your not at home, a public restroom even isn't around, your stopping off at a job site where construction workers work during the day. And big burly men take craps in porta pottys, with no toilet paper left but only left upon a ****** topped toilet seat. With the fresh stench of ****, crap, and men's beer puke and *** smell aligning the walls of the *****. I wish an inventor (poet inventor) would make poet's special pottys. I'd be his co-creator. We'd call it,
Poetry pottys!
Poetic T Mar 2015
I cuddled upon it since birth,
It was the friend that kept me
Calm,
Peaceful,
Friend
Of my sleepy times, always there,
But I awoke and Blanky wasn't there
"MUMMY"
"DADDY"
As both ran in,
"What is it our little one"
Tears streaming, words jumbled in emotions
Mummy stroked my hair
Daddy Sshhh....
Sshhh...
Sshhh...
Sshhh...
And all was calm in the world,
B, B, "Blanky"
Has gone away,
Mummy soft spoken voice speaks
"Lets check your bed"
No not there?
"***** trained detective looks around"
Sniffs the air,
Sorry mummy that was me,
Mmm... to the playroom
High,  Low
Here,  there
Places searched but no where found,
His thoughts of blanky and sweet sleep,
As he searches each room, doggy sniffs
Come on Hairy,
He checks his bed nothing but hair,
His baby mind thinks back to the other day
Blanky and me,
Me and Blanky,
To the garden Woof, little fingers can not reach
Woofs hind legs stretch up,
"Good boy Woof"
As the door opens to
The great outside,
Near the sandpit
"No"
Near the grass
"Neither"
Then he spots it
Then its seen,
"Blanky I have missed you"
Hanging just out of reach,
"Detective work is never as easy as it seems"
A baby has skills, as he takes his *****
Sticky patches take hold and on top
Of a head, smelling fresh,
Not that just thumb ****** sleepy smell
But we can change that,
Blanky wrapped around
***** dragging  behind, a  new one needed I think,
"Mummy"
"Daddy"
"Its solved"
The missing blanky case is solved
It was washed, ***** it was once,
But so soft and cuddly once more,
It needs that just slept smell,
A detective is off to get snuggles sleep
Till the next case awaits, till I awaken
Its sheep time for me, goodnight or day everyone sweet dreams.
Another case solved, Special guest appearance Woof as Woof :)
Pet Port A *****

I took a walk in the city today
to try to pass the time away.
Saw lots of people walking too
stepped right in a pile of doggy doo.
I thought for a moment just what could be done
to clean up the streets of doggie dung.
Maybe I'll invent something really super
even finer than a pooper scooper.
A port a ***** for our four legged friends
on every street corner where every road bends.
Then I'll become famous for this awesome invention
at the monthly town meetings my name will be mentioned.
They'll throw a big party and dance in the streets
because never again will there be **** on our feet!

Written By Kathy J Parenteau
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
remember when you were just a kid
and ***** training is what you did
the things that you are to do taught to do
so that you can use the loo
then when your grown and train no more
you miss the loo and hit the floor.
Kate MacDonald Oct 2015
Excuse my ***** mouth, but
*******.
******* for leaving me alone
******* for not making time
******* for being too self absorbed to realize you're pushing everyone who cares about you away in the process
******* for thinking I would be okay
**** your for taking away my voice and making everything I say seem invalid
******* for standing there when you could've done something
******* for making me feel helpless and not worth your time

*******.
Sorry for the ***** mouth.
Madeline Feb 2015
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
I am assured by my loving mother as a child
I believe her because the beauty in everything flow’rs and flourishes
when you’re young
The world is yours to take, everyone is yours to meet, everything is yours to do;
and I believe her.

“You are worth more than the marigolds”
My first friend at school proclaims,
and I believe them.
We’ve tackled ***** training and preschool, now onto the playground and phonics!
We run and run together, taking the world like we’ve
whispered once before;
and I believe them.

“You are worth more than the marigolds”
The middle school test scores announce,
and I believe them.
Primary school is in the past and I’m ready for responsibility!
I put on makeup to feel pretty, care about my grades more than the teachers believe and flash my smile to the boys who spit “compliments” at my feet;
and I believe them.

“You are worth more than the marigolds”
but.. I don’t believe them anymore.
I’ve gained just enough confidence to smile at everyone in the halls in case they are having a bad day.
Suddenly my youthful euphoric vision is graffitied with hateful words and violence.
I run and constantly chase the innocence of the world,
being surrounded by darkness.
My self esteem has hit an all time low. Why is the world this way?
My friends and I chase what we used to believe and end up in deep holes;
and I don’t believe them anymore.

“You are worth more than the marigolds”
And it doesn’t matter.
I have lost all hope of finding that beauty.
My heart is an aching mess of “I love you”’s
But all I hear is “you are meaningless”
Slowly these phrases of deep hate sear into my soul
I hear them every day and every night
You are meaningless
You are not worthy
You could not possibly be good enough
Until I wake up one dismal morning to realize that I have been defined by the ones around me.

“You are worth more than the marigolds”
..and enough!
Because even my friends who say I’m worth something turn around and sneer at others like they can’t too be loved.
Because while the world screams “I hate people” I whisper
“but I don’t”.
But that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things
because we’ll find someone who loves us, right?
No.
Our words between just us mean nothing if we spin around and
spit in others’ faces.

And we know we hurt because we’ve been hurt but we don’t stop, none of us stop.

I dream of a world that screams a vulnerable
“I love you”
out into the world instead of a pulsing
“I hate you”
And a world that remembers that we are all worthy of love and not only the kind that makes you blush.

“You are worth more than the marigolds”
The phrase I’ve heard since I was in my mother’s gentle hold
can only mean so much when you think you’re crumpled.
Stashed away until you’re needed
always feeling so defeated
but the truth
not told enough
to our weakened souls
We are all worth more than the marigolds
(for Christopher Isherwood)

Seated after breakfast
In this white-tiled cabin
Arabs call the House where
Everybody goes,
Even melancholics
Raise a cheer to Mrs.
Nature for the primal
Pleasure She bestows.

*** is but a dream to
Seventy-and-over,
But a joy proposed un-
-til we start to shave:
Mouth-delight depends on
Virtue in the cook, but
This She guarantees from
Cradle unto grave.

Lifted off the *****,
Infants from their mothers
Hear their first impartial
Words of worldly praise:
Hence, to start the morning
With a satisfactory
Dump is a good omen
All our adult days.

Revelation came to
Luther in a privy
(Crosswords have been solved there)
Rodin was no fool
When he cast his Thinker,
Cogitating deeply,
Crouched in the position
Of a man at stool.

All the arts derive from
This ur-act of making,
Private to the artist:
Makers' lives are spent
Striving in their chosen
Medium to produce a
De-narcissus-ized en-
During excrement.

Freud did not invent the
Constipated miser:
Banks have letter boxes
Built in their façade
Marked For Night Deposits,
Stocks are firm or liquid,
Currencies of nations
Either soft or hard.

Global Mother, keep our
Bowels of compassion
Open through our lifetime,
Purge our minds as well:
Grant us a king ending,
Not a second childhood,
Petulant, weak-sphinctered,
In a cheap hotel.

Keep us in our station:
When we get pound-notish,
When we seem about to
Take up Higher Thought,
Send us some deflating
Image like the pained ex-
-pression on a Major
Prophet taken short.

(Orthodoxy ought to
Bless our modern plumbing:
Swift and St. Augustine
Lived in centuries
When a stench of sewage
Made a strong debating
Point for Manichees.)

Mind and Body run on
Different timetables:
Not until our morning
Visit here can we
Leave the dead concerns of
Yesterday behind us,
Face with all our courage
What is now to be.
nsp Jul 2019
My neighbors baby talk to their wiener dog.
"Come on girl! Make *****...
Come on. I love you. Make *****.
Hey, come on, make ***** for daddy.
Good girl. Thats' a good *****.
Get it all out.
You're so good. I love you.
Oooooo who made *****. You did."
They do it right outside my window and it sounds like they're in the room with me.

It's my bathroom window.

I'M NOT YOUR ******* GOOD GIRL I'M A GROWN *** MAN TRYING TO TAKE A ****.
Randy Johnson Jan 2016
I'll tell you about something that is rotten to the core.
When outside of church, some preachers cuss like sailors.
My friend saw some of these preachers who like to cuss.
They should be ashamed, preachers are supposed to set an example for the rest of us.
When they cuss, they anger God because it's like slapping him in the face.
Morality is not their strong point, what they're doing is truly a disgrace.
Out of all of the people in the world, preachers are the ones who should never swear.
Those preachers are not God fearing people and it is just too much for me to bear.
This makes me angry and Jehovah God and I are both filled with disgust.
It proves that the world is lost when we see preachers who we can't trust.
Sadly, this is a true story.
Emily Rene Jul 2013
I took a walk around the neighborhood today,
just to try to pass the time away.
I saw lots of people walking too,
I stepped right in a pile of doggy doo.
I thought for a moment just what could be done,
to clean up the streets of doggie dung.
Maybe I'll invent something really super,
even finer than a pooper scooper.
A port a ***** for out four legged friends,
on every street corner where every road bends.
Then I'll become famous for this awesome invention,
at the monthly town meetings, my name will be mentioned.
They'll throw a big party and dance in the streets,
because never again will there be **** on our feet.
DieingEmbers Oct 2012
To *** or not to ***
that is the question
whether it is easy on my mom
to use the ***** or to wet my pants.
**** it is a dud

out **** ***......  out!
JJ Hutton Apr 2013
You know how the Lorax spoke for the trees? I feel the need to speak for my four-year-old niece. Not because she can't speak -- she can and rarely stops once she starts -- but because there are certain concepts time has yet to grant her. So until time does, I got you covered, Lucy.*

Mommy,
you call it the "poetry" of a child's sleep,
ohh 'n ahh, she's so, so sweet,
I call it child's "pose." Not the yoga neither.
I'm posing and rolling and cooing
biding time until you're tripping on the
Ambien retreating to a dream.
You're only reprieve.
'Cause when your *** is asleep,
I be mixing up the Play-doh,
red and yellow, black and white,
'till it's 50 shades of brown, alright?
Dirt pies from the backyard,
put 'em by the brownies
in the morning world-weary in your pajamys
Slip-up, slip-up, I smell a slip-up.
Ain't a direct threat, Queen Buttercup
because you'd just say, "I ain't afraid of you, shorty."

Blood flow. Blood slow. Simmering, saucy.
Mommy, looking down skyscraper balcony.
May I remind, a giant ain't bringing down Manhattan,
It's that little, wayward wrecking ball, eh Captain?

Over my shoulder, drinking from a thermos --
stumble in your step mean you gettin' nervous--
hand me piece of paper and two crayons
macaroni orange and swamp water liaisons
these coloring sheets are so bourgeoisie.
These coloring sheets are so bourgeoisie.
"Color outside the lines, eh Lucy?
don't play by the rules," my Mommy say,
but I been around long enough to know dat
'dese rules pay. Outside the lines?  Is just uh sloppy.
Been outside the club in front of the line
with my fellow shawties.
Slip-up, slip-up, I smell a slip-up.
Ain't a direct threat, Queen Buttercup
because you'd just say, "I ain't afraid of you, shorty."

Blood flow. Blood slow. Simmering, saucy.
Mommy, looking down skyscraper balcony.
May I remind, a giant ain't bringing down Manhattan,
It's that little, wayward wrecking ball, eh Captain?

Chicken and fries three meals-a-day.
Chocolate milk three meals-a-day.
Tricycle boys three wheels away.
Hands on your hips can't make me stay.

Lego blocks lodged in your skull.
I've hid the Advil. The Dayquil. Drank the Nyquil though.
Alright, alright, time to get confessional.
All my ***** accidents are intentional.
I melt my own Barbies to feel alive.
Snort glue sticks just to get hella high.

Mommy, you've got a messy ketchup face.
Mommy, you've got spiders in your hair.
Mommy, you've got ***-*** on your pants.
Ha. Ha.
Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Bi-otch.

Blood flow. Blood slow. Simmering, saucy.
Mommy, looking down skyscraper balcony.
May I remind, a giant ain't bringing down Manhattan,
It's that little, wayward wrecking ball, eh Captain?
Donall Dempsey Jan 2017
GOING *****

using uncle's bowler hat
for a *****
two turds full
***

We had got her a tiny porcelain chamber *** in the throes of her early toilet training and she was always very proud of her motions. She once proudly marched in on Mum's ladies who were lunching and displayed her most recent efforts in her hand as if they were art. The ladies were suitably horrified.

Uncle Arnold always wore a bowler even when indoors! It only left his head in a state of great inebriation and rolled away from his horizontal head. During one of his bouts with the demon drink Tilly discovered it and turned it into...half a football....its regular use of a hat and....well....when a Tilly's got to go....a Tilly's got to go.

In her eyes it had now become a ***** and so...was treated as such. Oh how we laughed! All except Uncle Arnold who never wore it or any other hat again except for a knotted handkerchief  on the beach as he used to get bad sunburn on his bald spot.

Tilly loved her little Victorian chamber *** and when not using it for the purposes intended would make it into a jacuzzi for her dollies.

Her phrase for going to the loo was the title of the poem... TILLY GOING A LITTLE *****!

We all had to echo her toodeloo as she toddled off  and skipped to the loo where with great gusto she performed  her basic functions like a great performance artist creating a masterpiece.
Jon Tobias Jan 2012
Being drunk is not cute

Drunk texting is not cute

Vomiting is not cute

Waking up next to a homeless man you were cuddling behind a bush in order to keep warm is not cute

Homeless men are not cute

Stealing a stranger’s phone so you can sneak away to the bathroom and take a picture of your ****

Is not cute

Drunk *** is not cute

But it is awesome

Crying after drunk *** is not cute

Crying during drunk *** is not cute

Crying is not cute

Despite whatever I have set myself to believe

I am not cute when I am drunk

I’m not even cute when I’m sober

And when I find myself

With head hanging halfway into a gutter

While leaning out of the passenger seat of my car

Looking at the chunks of red-orange

Sour and burning

I know it is just my body

Trying to rebuke my ***** mouth

That’s what my mouth looks like

When I say the things I do

And it is definitely

Not cute
Wil Wynn Apr 2010
No One Knew His Name
when the woman called nine eleven she said
there is a guy sitting on the stoop
he's dead..
the nine eleven woman, martha, said
how do you know he
s dead we get plenty of calls like tha
t

she said, the woman, said
he
s got flies in his eyes

martha said we are gonna
be right there!

2.two condoms and a crucifix

when the coroner people cam
e he was still sitting on the stoop
still dead his breath no longer
straining the winter air
then they took pix and measured things
rigor mortis already had set in
and when they took th e pix
they showed two condoms and a crucifix
falling out of his pocket into the light of day

the woman who found him so still
she said it is strange
to see such disparate things spilling out of his pocket
he
was still dead and i believe he
s kept his state of being stubborn as he is/was
he remains forevermore stilled

we talked about those three things
two concepts really
two condoms and a crucifix
and we could not figure out which
he loved the most
because we never heard him speak of
anything but god crack *** amphetamine
trinity cooh, ya know?

3. Discovery Indeed

he came from wolf lake mn
population 31
when he left it went down to 25
ten thousand lakes
he could not imagine living there
anymore
but did he know at the end of the trail
what was he looking for?
two condoms and a xfix
my god he said
although he did not ever believe in such
extravagance
just before he went to sleep
perhaps to be still forever more
my god he said
as the soporific hit blessed
whatever was left of his short life
my god he said
although he was agnostic or so he said
my god
he could not have believed had he not heard them words
himself
as he grabbed the condoms and kissed the xfix
or maybe it was the other way around.

4. No ****
sitting on his ***** chair
he put his hands between his legs
reached for the ****
and squeezed:
yellowish stuff strained out between his fingers.

his grandma slapped him, hard

5. Things Looking Up

he lay down on the floor
to look up the neighbor's dress
he saw a pair of legs descend
from pink *******

then his grandma picked him up
slapped him, hard.

6. Harbinger

winter flew in harsh in minnesota,
battered houses, pine trees,
the wide landscape into submission
let the wind run whistling, whipping
subservient snow, whitewhirlwinding
down desolate fields and lanes

one day it got so cold
spit froze before it hit the ground
it made a little noise midair

7. Cold Dogs

one time he saw some fifteen dead dogs
piled by the side of a road
frozen like the rest of the landscape

even as an adult he wondered
what THAT had been about

8. *** Is Child's Play

in the first grade he fell in love with miss renee
the teacher who let him put his head down on her legs
and petted his head while he glowed glowed glowed
he learned to love school and read read read
so ms renee would say Joe, read!
and he would

one time he dreamed he had *** with miss renee
*** was tying something between her legs
a knot of love in her ******

so how did he know about such things
at five? he always wondered about that.

9. Revelation

his fishing pole was gone!
he looked and looked while spring time
raised giant mosquitos that buzzed and buzzed
about his head

he never found his fishing pole
he thought that maybe when you die
and go to heaven
god showed you in a sort of movie
what had happened so you'd nod yer head and say
yeh, i'd never would have guessed grandma

gave it away.

10. Alone At Last

say to the darkness this
emptiness covers all this
suffusing light scrapes away
some pain some excruciating i am
lucid preamble to my nevermores
in plural congruent universes
coexisting rapt in its own
say this is a dream a vertigo
a swirling metaphor for then/now/and again
can days still mean something new
today everyone left
everyone left


staring out the window at six years old
he saw woods slowly fade into the night
he thought they sank
into an oblivious fog

why didn't i go to the neighbors' house

11. Death Becomes The Fisherman

the lakes were all around
they said let's go see the drowned man
so they went to the shore
a boat with two men rowing
approached
you could see a hand and an arm sticking out
from somebody lying on the floor
someone said "hey, he
s waving"
close to the shore
the wind brought the overpowering
stink of death
that shocked him because he'
d not thought of "drowned" as "dead"

they brought the body out
to the shore
covered it waiting for the coroner to show up

mother and sister cried nearby
neither could approach the stinking corpse

he then realized that no matter what
you can't kiss a rotting corpse.

12. Rubber Match

the first time he met a ******
there was no formal intro
he just found it in his father'
s drawer
filled it with water
dumped it on the neighbor
s'
yard

later on he could hear them fight

13.Prurient Discovery

when he was 13 he made love to her
who was 16
and all he could think about
was how gross it was and wet

until he came

then his opinion suddenly
changed

for the

better

14. Death Is

his grandmother was sick
in the MN winter cold home
she coughed and coughed
so she
put kerosene on her back
and chest
he saw she got blisters
he did not want to help
clean them up
so he hid
until she was quiet for a couple of days

he went to see her she was dead
so he stayed drunk for a week or so
until he could not stand the stink no more

15. The Beginning of the End

he went to a foster home
there were 5 other teenagers there
the first night
he went to bed
someone put a pillow on his head
while hands turned him over
held him down
pulled his pjs down
5 guys ***** him then and there

the next day he ran away

16. The End of the Beginning

they brought him back 23 times
on the 24 he met one of the kids
by the lake
stuck a knife under the guys
ribcage on the right side

all the guy did was sigh
and slide slowly down

he pushed the guy into the water
somehow it took weeks to find the body
by then nobody could tell he'd been stabbed

but none of the kids ever held him down
again

17. COOH

alcohol alcohol
its sweet old name tells me all
i need to know how spinning
the world distances itself
in a warm blood red haze
and only a swollen torpor remains
alcohol alcohol
its sweet old name tells me all
i need to know
and not to know

18. Not Late, Just Timely

time 'sss a stone a sash a thunderbolt up high
a rudder a list a lisp a restless meandering
time 'sss a spire a fish still below the waves
a constraint a push a shove a deal a nothing
time 'ssss a look a lock a rail
a sunrise a fall a crack a vial
time 'sss a sock a pen a handgun
a radiant breeze a solid solid hand
two elbows and one mouth

he took his time and time took him
step by step he climbed the stairs of his cognizance
such as it was just this
no hope

i say no hope but no despair either
the world sometimes it's just the way it is
he understood that but what to make
of this breathing hearing seeing tasting feeling smelling
thinking self
he knew not
and in not knowing
he passed the time that isss not
what you think it isss
time 'sss not even a ticking tocking clock
just let it be he said to himself
time 'sss not me
yet time isss me

and he took another ****


19. Luger

his father came back to town one day
the war had been over for a few years then
they told him where he could find his father and he went
and watched his father, dressed in combat rags,
as he counted the fingers of his shooting hand

they exchanged glances and he left

got drunk and did not hear or see his father ever again.

20. Life As A Long One Night Stand

the girls are many the girls are new
every day they seems to look at you
and you melt and then you are gone
in another trip with another stranger
in your bed do not say much
cause *** is just another drug

just cheaper and easier to get
than smack

21. Epitaph

he learned a song and a little dance
at the emergency rooms where he got
the prescription pain killers man he could
lie and act and pretend so much
he knew they'
d really have to give him stuff
cause that'
s the way that things work
in big city hospitals
he re-membered a doc who smiled at him
saying man you'll be dead soon
although you think you are fooling me
the only fool in this room is you

he laughed cause he could not agree more
put that in my tombstone he said
the doc said no, you are gonna do it all by yourself

22. Lost Weekend
-.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.-
-.- -.- -.- -.-
-.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.-
-.- -.- -.- -.-

23. Dashes and Spaces
---- -- -- - - --- --
-- - -- -- -- - - -- - -- -- -
--- - - - - - -- - -- - - - --- - -
-- - - -- -- -- -- ---- - - --

24. Two Condoms

at the end of the road
the road the empty road
the sinuous complex road
the road the heavy road
where lust and love entwine
who knows the end or the beginning
who knows alpha or omega
who the what who the where who even
the hidden sentient how
the nothingness the emptiness
of come and come and come
just emptiness of not becoming
he heard himself saying screaming
at the end of something like a bumpy ride
she was who knows who but she was
you know the hole the whole the mankind whole
the all embracing whole the whole hole
the destination origin
the one and all
he said here i belong elementary
i exist because of this
he pounded pounded in his anguish
of becoming one and whole
he howled his grief intermittent
as pulse wave of heart
the heat of his despair
the only drug that it's living protein
he felt his way
and then was gone from virile crisis
to distant remote self acquiring its orthodoxy of despair
because as he put it once you cannot ever **** yourself
square the circle as it were
so he accepted two trojans
at the bar when a guy in the adjacent ****** said
these are the best and yes
we gotta protect ourselves
and left the couple of rubbers
by the sink
and he would have washed his hands
had he known how
but instead put them products in his pocket
a premonition of some kind of future bliss
tugging the sleeve of his presentiment

carving already a vast innocent tomorrow
while he walked out

he truly did not care

25. Crucifix

at the end of the road the empty road, the road full of lies, deceit and a hunger so great it overwhelmed all else, at the end, the terminus, the appointed hour, at the end of the alpha, the omega, the in-between, the road sinuous road that led down the miriad steps to the steps on a stoop in the city of new york, at the end of a long concatenation of minutes, each ethereal, insubstantial, a construct, a vapid dream or nightmare indeed he sat down one last time with his burden of hours to dream one last warm oblivious cozy, embracing shroud, sweet balm to assuage the freezing claws of grief. in the seedy bar last
night he met a blonde who said, your eyes remind me of a long ago boyfriend, he said well, he musta been one hell of a guy, she said indeed, he died in iraq, suicide, ******* he said that is not right, she said we are all at war, daily intimate war, i think, who said we met the enemy and it's us? he did not know but understood, he said although denial is more than a river in egypt, ha ha, but they both got it since they both craved the same intoxication, the same zig-zag and feint, she said the first time i got drunk i was eleven, that was my first time for *** too, he said the first time i got drunk i too was eleven, the night had fallen i was alone in wisconsin among the wolves of winter howling their relentless wind outside, i found a bottle of the hard stuff, not beer like everybody drank i could not stand the taste it was too bitter, but gin, and i drank it convulsed at first by the shock, then not, just drinking a few more gulps and believed i had found the greatest gift on earth, the greatest warmest kindest confidant, she said you talk funny, but i understand what you are talking about, i know the allure but my hangovers, wow, he said no, i never got one, but. here is the but. i knew a limit, i was never blind blind drunk until much later in new york, she said we each have our cross to bear and laughed and dontcha just wanna do a line now ha ha, and it went on like that for quite a while. when she was leaving she said, you wanna see something funny, yeah he said, she brought out a crucifix and it was indeed jesus, his mouth open, imploring relief from his harsh dad, and he had a gold tooth, blue eyes and dreads, he laughed and said that's quite contemporary and she said wha? you don't think he looked like that? but really who knows what the truth was, he said or is, so they both lifted one in memory of the dear departed one who had caused so much trouble here on earth, but, she said, he did not mean it, here keep it and he did. later on he found his fix it was extra good ****, too good in fact, and who knows, when he sat there with flies in his eyes, his life a dream, invention, make believe, whether any of the episodes were true at all, sob stories to assuage the beast of craving within, get his hand in your pocket and whether, as he sank below the surface of his tortured bliss, he saw his true light at long last.
Curtis Gainey Feb 2010
There’s a lot of sick men walking on this earth
But this man is beyond twisted, he’s perserve
All he wants to do is terrorize and leave people hurt
What ****** up his mind, no one knows
Think about this man and anger flows
Everybody remembers the heinous crime he committed
What he did has left a lot of people in this world sickend
Disgusted faces everywhere
A room full of disturbed stares
No one can imagine the intense horror this man has cause
Too heinous for words, what this man has done was wrong
No! it’s beyond wrong! it’s **** right disgusting
It makes other crimes committed look like nothing


Only the son of the devil would have a mind this sick
Makes you wanna find him and beat him with every inch
He’s a sick menace to today’s youth
Think of this man, you just wanna puke
The night he broke in and destroyed a family
Kidnapped two children and tortured them badly
It gets even better, he also went in, tortured, and killed the parents
Bashed their heads with a hammer, no wonder they couldn’t bare it
Kidnap the kids and put them in his stolen jeep
He drove into another state in a forest so deep
Intense fear appears upon these children’s eyes
He dosen’t care, he just wants to make them cry
It’s like food, his mouth waters when he got them
His mission now is to assault and distraught them


He is the hunter and now the children are his prey
Starts to slip off his pants, you can assume he’s gay
One by one, he commits the most heinous act ever
Forced himself inside them, didn’t make things better
Laid on top of each of them so they couldn’t move
Forced them to lay on a surface that isn’t even smoothe
The children scream in pain while he screams in pleasure
It’s getting miserable for the poor kids but for him it’s better
Children screaming in agony is like music to his ears
He gets the sense of dominace coming off their fears
Didn’t give them mercy, he just went further into their bodies
They’re gonna spew out his liquid next time they go to the *****
This ain’t no joke, that’s the worst thing you can do to a kid
If they live, these kids will be traumatized from what he did
Can’t even cry for help because they’re in the middle of a forest
He wants to destroy these kids inside out, that’s just plain horrid
You’d think this kind of horror dosen’t exist, but it does
He forced himself into those kids until they squirt out blood


But what he does?! he just kept on going
Pain of these kids keeps his energy flowing
Tears streaming down their faces as he continues
Doing that to small children, he has some mad issues
No wonder why everybody in the world hates him right now
No wonder why people wanna beat him down to the ground
Children are helpless so he decided to use them as targets
Forcing innocence out of a child, that’s just plain *******
They’re crying in pain, crying for help, but he thrieves off that
Crying like babies everytime he did but he just goes and laugh
Twenty-four seven, all day, all night, he was on top of these poor kids
He’s a ******* sick monster who’s most powerful weapon was his ****
Seven straight weeks they had to endure this action
A lot of people in the world wishes this didn’t happened


Not even the end of this story, he burned their bodies and choked them unconsius
Seen long weeks he kept these helpless, defendless children under his hostage
And for what? to get sick pleasure by graphically torturing them
He was ramming himself in their bodies in and out until they bleed
Mixed with that and his ******, he could of gave those kids aids
One of them didn’t even get to live as he sent him to an early grave
The kid begged and screamed for his young life
Instead he went and shot him in his sister’s sight
Eventually he got caught and now he sits in a jail cell
Sentenced to life for putting these children through hell
Sitting in a cell constantly blaming society for having an evil heart
Stop blaming other people, and take responsibility for your part
Forget a life sentence, torture this man to death
For kidnapping children and using them for ***
No sympathy will be given for this deranged man
He’s a *** offender and should be wiped off earth
Yasmine Dennis May 2014
Never knew love until I gave birth
The love from a mother to a child, vice versa
How can you deny a face so sweet?
Just to think, we once shared a heartbeat
How could I just give up on you?
Never.
You're my motivation, you're presence fuels me
Colic and terrible two's...***** training and I love you's
Who could deny a face so sweet?
Seem like yesterday, April 13th...A face I couldn't wait to meet
I never want to fail you or steer you wrong
But how do I explain why your daddy's gone?
Why deny a face so sweet?
There's so much love I'm wanting to give
Teach you the necessary lessons to live
From day one I've been by your side
Held your hand through low and high tide
Am I capable of showing you "double love"
Granted, there's no limit to my love for you
But I can't love you like a father should do
He deny a face so sweet...
So special, one of a kind
Missing out on all the great times
You deserve so much more, a full time father not a boy who comes then snatches your joy
Gone.
A horrible cycle I put you in
Mommy is sorry to call him your kin
Never will I deny your face so sweet
I am your protector until the end
My love for you I'll always send...
May not be from your dad but I'll try
A face so sweet, you have my heart until I die
L B Feb 2017
She let the tape go—
on record
one evening for an ordinary hour
Five years later, we play it back
for laughs after dinner—then as now

“Remember how the stove door screeched
at the house on Olive Street?”
And our voices!
Phoeb’s, lighter–tired
wrapping the nine’s tables in elastic yawns
like flash cards in a rubber band
“Phoeb, your pitch changed so—
while  I turned...”
to run water in the tub
lamenting the **** of Two
in frenetic escape of hands
Unruly!
Running rebel taunts in Time’s strict face
who would not dare disturb her dawns
only mine—
Roused by the first round of another day’s
ring of twelve
digits that insist
like uniform with apron waiting
on ironing board that’s never folded

Now the **** of Two cries out
Exultant!
of success in *****
Then, Oratorio for Soap!
The splashy version
with endless bubblings of “Rocky Baby!”
and obbligato of “Where’s Shampoo?”
in jubilant glissadal plunge
an octave through vocal whoops!

…I had not thought
she hardly talked
but sang and squealed or whined in tunes
Her voice lay open to her soul
a roost of piercing humming birds
small of words
but filled with sweet and want
incessant wings and things to say....

How could we have forgotten?

“Are these your boots?
Your clothes laid out?”
From sound and talk, we still can hear
frost phantoms
in winter window rattles—then as now
And Phoebe remarks how one voice
didn’t change though—
“Still talking to herself”

We laugh
and let the tape go....
This is one of those poems I'm so glad I wrote because no photo or recording could ever capture this memory as well.
Sidney Nov 2014
I am that petite build, with that straight, black and shiny hair that every white girl envies.
I have those slanty eyes that turn into slivers when I laugh.
I love kimchee, rice and mandu.  There is never such a thing as too much garlic.  I put red pepper flakes/paste on everything.
I use chopsticks.
People think I'm "cute" and pat me on the head.  That drives me nuts.  It still happens and I'm 32.
I regularly tell people that I don't speak Korean, except for "Where's the bathroom?" and of course "Anyonghaseyo".
My skin turns a dark tan in the summer months and I wish I was more peachy or pale like the white girls whom I think are beautiful.
I wear glasses.
I love to read and research things and I'm a good, diligent student, but I'm terrible with math and science.
I'm musical.

****

I play the clarinet, not the piano, violin, or cello; like every "Asian" should play.
I'm a tom-boy; you will never find me in a tu-tu or frilly-like dress (in public).
I do not wear make-up.
I'm loud, boistrous and obnoxious at times.  I have a serious *****-mouth and I'm not reserved or "refined".
I ask the guy out; not the other way around.
My career is more important than "settling down"-- at least during this point in my life.
I choose to never have children -- EVER.
I bite my fingernails and I've never had a manicure.  I've never even been inside a manicure shop.
I am a fantastic driver.
I am the only person of color in my immediate and extended family.
Over 99.5% of my friends are white.
I have never been in a relationship with an Asian man.
I grew up in an all-white neighboorhood and when I saw the Vietnamese, Cantonese, and Hmong students at my elementary school, I always wondered what it must like to be "them".

In 2007 I lived in South Korea for 3 months.  I encountered complex questions concerning who I am.  Who am I, really?  Am I an adopted Korean?  Am I a "real" Korean? Am I a Korean-American?  Am I none of these?  Does it even matter?  I was left with a gaping hole in my chest of deeper questions, deeper insecurities, and a poignant feeling of loss.  I thought, back in the States that who I am there is who I really am.  But, here I am, in the country of my birth, surrounded by people who share my ethnicity.  This is who I really am, right?  I felt such a deep responsibility to be more Korean.  I felt that if I identified as "white" or even a Korean-adoptee, that I was betraying my culture, my People, my home.  But, while I was in my homeland of Korea, I was so homesick for Minnesota.

When I returned back to Minnesota around Thanksgiving time, a few months later, Eastern Social Welfare (adoption agency in Korea) found my birth mother, Yoon, Young-Hee.  They were able to confirm that she was indeed my mother.  They tried to tell her that I have begun a search and that I wrote a personal letter for her, waiting at the agency.  Once they mentioned me, Young-Hee hung up the phone and would not answer Eastern's calls over a course of a year.  Children's Home Society and Family Services in St. Paul, MN contacted me and said that Eastern Social Welfare suggested that I wait a few years and try again.  I waited 6 years.  Last Decemember I re-intitated the search with the hopes that Young-Hee had gained the courage to talk to the social worker.  I had prayed for this for so many years.  I visulized light and love surrounding her.  I asked God for help.  I have heard nothing from my social worker and it's been almost 10 months.

I am learning how to let go of this search and let go of Young-Hee.  I am learning how to take my healing and my identity into my own hands.  I have a million questions that I wish I knew -- questions about my birth family's medical history.  Questions about why she gave me up. Questions about her current family.  Endless questions.  Now, I have come to terms that my questions may never be answered.  I could always have a mystery around my birth and possibly the future cause of my death (until I am diagnosed with something).  Can I live with this ambiguity?  As of right now, barely.  I am barely able to keep myself from falling apart with the frantic wonderings of my mind.  But, this is something I have to live with every day.

The Adopted Korean Community often hears wonderful and inspiring stories of adoptees being re-united with their birth-families. This is not my story.  My story is the all-too-common story that is rarely heard.  No one wants to hear how your birth mother will not cooperate with the Korean social worker and even read a letter you wrote for her.  No one wants to face the fact that millions of adoptees around the world live with this reality, too.  No one wants to acknowledge the pain, the rejection, and the loss that prevails.  Why would anyone want to hear a story like that?  Well, people who do not find their birth families or are turned away by their birth families have a story to share too.  It may not be an "upper", but it's a pretty important story to hear, too.  It lets us remember how we've all felt this way at some point in our lives, as an adoptee.  Most importantly, hearing stories like this helps other adoptees cope and feel that it is okay if their birth families wish to not meet or communicate with them.  It's not the adoptee's fault.  Adoptees who do not have success stories need to hear that this happens to many others and that a giant rejection does not mean he or she is worthless and less "special" than an adoptee who has been fortunate enough to reunite.

Why is it that I so closely tie my identity and then my self-worth to my birth family?  Why can I not be sovereign unto myself?  I am Korean.  Yes, I am.  It doesn't mean I must do, be, act, believe, see, or think in a certain way.  I am human, too.  I choose to have little identities that I see myself as while in different situations, with different people.  Indentity is complex-  it often signifies one thing-- oh that, (points) THAT is a chair. But simultaneoulsy, identity can also be so fluid and flexible -- (points) THAT chair is a folding chair, but this one isn't. But they're both chairs.  Maybe in some situations I can be a folding chair.  I'd like to play around with identity and let the concept roll around in my mind.  The thinking error comes when we think we must be one, same thing at all times. That is when we become stagnant.  How refreshing it is that we get to have such fluid identities!

Like every person on Earth, I have many shades.  I have many identities, and I surrender the long, hard fight to conform to one identity or another. This is my life and this is who I am, so I reserve the right to identitfy with whatever and whomever I see fit to be ME! :-)
Rj May 2018
sitting in a public restroom
on a toilet, with your headphones
Listening as people come and go
Without the strength to get up
Kevin May 2017
I am three years old and it s ***** training time
I m so excited this whole day is going to be mine
On the toilet I try an try
I can t do it, I let out a cry
Babysitter is not mad though, she just smiles
Looking at me she says it s ok we will try in awhile
Mom comes home from a bad day at work again
As I say good-bye to my babysitting friend
Mommy sees the messy underwear in the bathroom
She picks them up, I feel a certain doom
She yells at me what is this
The poopy, pss infested ****** are clenched in her fist
Sit on the toilet now, it s time you learn
Rubbing the ****** on my face until it burned
*** now d
mn it, she rubs and yells
My eyes fill with tears and my eye lids swell
I really want to learn mommy I really do
Did you go? She shouts, I m not done with you
Putting the ****** over my face and made to lay on the floor
Forced into a diaper, humiliated to the core
Left in the corner of discipline all through  the night
I hope tomorrow babysitter will help me get it right
Makenzie Robison Oct 2015
My family isn't perfect
But yet it is perfect
We fit with each other like puzzle pieces
And more come together
We are snugger than a bug
We will always stay together
No matter how hard life may be.

Yes we annoy the crap out of each other
Yes we fight
But arguments happen
and we move past them
Yet someone comes and tries to break us apart
They nearly succeed and
They never face the punishments
The pain of knowing what happened
Is enough to push the bonds

Yet when the time comes
We migrate back to family
The family we have fallen in love with
The family that stuck by us
The place where we are safe
Then we leave and start over again
The words people say stick in our heads
And we all just want to dead
But we go and lay down on our beds
And think of the things that we could've done different
But what sticks out?
Family
A mother and a father
5 kids one is a half bother
And the person who left

Andrew
His name comes off my tongue covered in hate
Yet all he did was break simple promises
Andrew
The cause of my regret
I hate how his name circles in my brain
Causing all of this misery
I would rather die
Andrew
He needs to go away
He's a drug the my siblings are addicted to
I moved away
I watch as they all say
I love you dad.
My dad is a tall redhead with as much anger as mine
I'm his spirit child
I hate the genes I got from my ***** donor
I have his stupid eyes
And his dumb last name
Demuth
Poison that's what it is
Slowly killing my sanity
Almost like a vipers venom
Slow and painful.
Ugh
If only I could get away!
Then the pain would leave
Then I would be free

18 will come sooner than later
Then I can change my last name
Robison
The thing that switches the poison of
Demuth
The pain of misery

I look and for a dad all I see is red hair and beard
I see a gun that he hasn't named
And for a mom I see Lucy
A 40 caliber pistol
I stood behind those powerful weapon
In front is my target
A zombie or a pink outline.
I smile
Then I point the gun in front of me
And empty the clip
The smell of brass
And the smell of cologne

My picture of family is to never give up on them
I will always be glad when one of them is near
My mom wears black and we have the same haircut
She has these pretty chocolate brown eyes
She passed them down to my to my sisters.
She doesn't let the animals get fur all over her
She takes care of us when we are sick
She sleeps like flowers and leather and the hit of ecig juice
My parents vape and my brother smokes

Brandon is older and acts like a ****
But he has pretty eyes that change with his mood
He smokes cigarettes and cigars
Sometimes I wish I was him
He smells like cats and sometimes dogs
He lays around the house waiting to go to work
He got a job at the Macy's distribution center in Owasso
I'm proud yet disappointed.
He could have done so much better and yet he doesn't
He wanted to join the military
But he never has the nerve.
If only he would listen and not throw a fit

Now I go to Rachel
Sweet and nice
Dark and mysterious
Only ever is quiet and sincere
She has the eyes of our mom
Brown and filled with knowledge
Yet laying there underneath is a beast waiting
Waiting to be unleashed
I see it and ignore it
For I made the beast appear.
It hungers for someones blood
But Rachel controls it more
I see it in her movements
Precise like a cats
I smile inwardly
She going to be so good
A good mother
And a good wife
Yet when she turns away
I can see the tears
I feel my heart breaking
Rachel
The name that sounds so sweet
She brings me back into real life
When I get ****** into dreams
She has the best hair and smile
Although its nothing compared to Zoe's
If only she knew I loved her
But I see the pain
The pain she always tries to hide
I look to the left and I see....

Zoe
***** blonde weird Zoe
She sits on her tablet and or phone watching some random show
She gets on my nerves but I love her so
She tries to kick me in the ****
I turn and kick her back
She is always ignoring me
Even when I give advice
Yet when she does listen
She says
Yeah right
I feel my heart breaking
Because she doesn't know what to do
I don't even really know her
Because she doesn't tell me jack squat
Yet when she looks at me
I feel my pride in her grow
Even if she follows me
I'll let her grow
And point her towards the sunlight
Where her smile could compete
She thinks she the center of the universe
And most of her friends agree
Yet when it comes time to sleep
she lays there on her phone
She pretends no one cares
But I want to prove her wrong
I care
I really do
When I see her in the morning
With her hair all messy
That's my little sister
Don't go and hit her
She has an attitude that makes the planets flinch
Yet when she smiles
She always make my worries go to waste
She'll turn out good one day
I just hope I'm around to see it.

We have two cats
Kaelas and Allanon
We love very much
They are brothers too
If only they could talk
And tell me all their pain
I would love to listen
They spend there time lounging around
Or begging us for food
Gray and Brown
White and black
Kaelas gas a gray bad tone and a white belly
While allanon has brown base and black stripes
I love them personally
But they run the show
Kaelas means White Death
Allanon doesn't have a meaning.
My parents pulled there name out if a book serious
When I see them start to play
It turns into a fight
I would smile and let them go
Just to see who would win
Allanon is slow but he is also the fastest
Kaelas is full of himself
Kaelas lays on my bed
Allanon on my dads chair
Those are our cats
And I love them so.

Now I talk about that dog
Her name is Tinkerbell
She's a Chihuahua
She replies to stinker bell
And stinker
We like to play with the puppy
She's only four months old
We have all fallen in love with her
Never would she go
We are taking care of her
And ***** training too.
If only dogs could speak to us
Surely no accident would occur
But we love the tan colored pup
And her energy too
Though sometimes she just needs to stop
She wears us all out
But that's a good thing in my book
One day shell be fully grown and never grown a inch
She has ears that we call HBO ears
Because they are so big
They are adorable and we know it.
That's our darling puppy
So know its time to introduce the final member

Me
My name is Makenzie
Some just ought to know
I have blue eyes I hate and a smile that's just to fake
I weave my self a web of lies
To protect them and me
They don't know the real meaning of
Depression
Soon though it'll all be the past
Then we can laugh and kiss everything goodbye
But before that I need to mention the Gecko
Dr. Conner's
Who lives in a cage
With water and food
And things to play
He doesn't do much so his is quick
We love him
And he just clicks
We get back to me and all of you stare
Just waiting to tear open my brain
And pick at like crows
Maybe I'm willing to run a few little tests
But only if you can beat me at my own game
The game of trying to pull in ahead
The game of running faster than depression but slower than suicide
The game of the right pace
I beat the game everyday
And a victory cheer I hear
Good morning Makenzie how are you dear?
This brings me out of my funk and I smile so.

Oh dear I forgot poor Alex so
My little half brother
Who has two dads
We love that little family
So very much indeed
We haven't been able too meet face to face
But one day we will
He looks like our mom
Because her genes are so strong
I love them dearly
And could write them a song
The song would be weird and probably include airplanes

Now this is a family
And its almost complete
To finish this poem
I write about me
Again
I look around then see the light
It's beautiful and all through the night
I can see the galaxy from my place on earth
My imagination can cover that much
It's always thinking right into the night
If only my eyes were this bright
My demons settle into slumber
Then I can spend another summer
Happy carefree
And silly
But I snap back in the winter
Fall and winter
Allergy season
For everybody but me
Hehe suckers better luck next year
Then my eczema flares
And I'm scratching every where
Most on my arm and neck and barely on my stomach
But life is perfect
With my family so big
So i do a little happy dance
And as I dance I giggle and laugh
This is my family and its prefect
As soon as I'm done
I would take a bow
But this poems probably better if I wiggle and giggle
The only person who won't giggle would probably laugh
But I'm not a seer
So I can't predict
What everyone will get
Out of this poem
I spent a couple days on
Getting it right and making it perfect
Just like my family who smiles are bright
We could compete with the moon and the sun
So yes my family can be crazy
But we love each other and that's al righty
I have a motto that needs to change
If we **** to live and live to **** what's the point of survival?
But yes my family is perfect and no one will change that
And yet we all want to perfect
These are the reasons I love my family.
So the final thing I will say is
So long and goodnight
I hope you have a good night.
Sjr1000 Jun 2014
Access to excess
holds you tight
in its vice.

It starts off
it always feels so right
filled with promise and abundance
walking into that casino
loaded with cash
scoring the bag at Christine's
weekly motel
one more dab will do you.
She knocks on your door
and only wants you
the night is filled with promises too.

Is this any different
then gluttonous
billionaires hoarding what they can
it's never enough
while the rest of us drown.

The waiting, waiting, waiting
for it to come through
there's that too.

Access to excess
has this advice:
"I'll deal with it later"
and
"One more time. "

Drip, drip, drip
blood
triggered rush
images and cravings
euphoric memories
kaleidoscope
in
one body rush
after another
until there is no more living
in
your own skin.

Rubbing your self raw
to get back to that moment
when you first walked in
when abundance
was real
and
access to excess
was all you could feel.
What a moment of exhilaration.

Of course there are these bonuses too
ending up
with total deprivation
"incomprehensible
demoralization"

Locked in a porta-*****
with a guy and a pipe
out of money
out of time
out of consciousness

Access to excess
what are we gonna do
now.
Jeremy Bean Dec 2015
I always found
vulgarity endearing
Because *******
That's why
Jon Tobias Jun 2012
Where did the circus go?

Not like the Del Mar fair
Or the Barnum and Bailey skinny cow version

I want someplace nasty
A bit sticky
Someplace that picks up and leaves
before you have time to go get your watch back

All that’s left is a lot
Full of trash and ride screws
Because the rush to leave was more important
than safety

It’s a place most days now
I wish I could run away to

Slap on fake **** and be the bearded lady
Or warts and green paint and be frog man

Be something along the lines of
Homemade make believe

Be happy believing that
This other place doesn’t have things
Like rent
And car payments
And work that ***** you harder than your own girlfriend will

And don’t tell me cirque de solei is hiring
That’s not a circus
That’s people in costumes dancing and flying around on stages
They had to go to school to do that

You don’t need school to join the circus

You just need the desire to leave
Before anyone notices you’re gone
Maybe leave behind a sticky mess
And take with you something valuable
Like a watch
Or money from the purse on the counter
Or someone’s heart

Maybe I could be tattoo man
Or the ***** Mouthed Poet
And freestyle psalms that ache behind a glass window
That you have to pay a quarter to see through
And another quarter to listen
Or I could be a wax statue of Jesus
The one that if you stare at long enough
You see him breathing

Enough to restore faith in the make believe
That keeps us going

Let me be your side show
Let me be your fortune teller
Let me be the dark room in that back
Only the men are allowed into

Women and children this way

Let me be the ***** talk of town
And leave before the lynching

Let me leave in the night like a piper
With the promise
That I will give you the life you’ve always wanted
If you leave behind all you’ve ever been

Remember him?
He joined the circus?

Where’d the circus go?
Londis Carpenter Sep 2010
Nineteen million NASA's price
  To build its crew a safe device
So astronauts could have a place
  To handle *** and ***** waste

  And men of space would have a loo
  To do what other men must do
These millions bucks NASA would pay
  So no spaceman would float away

These men were safe from their own farts
  With leg restraints and other parts
And all was safely put in place
  A porta-***** out in space

But something's wrong I heard today
  An amber rain on its way
No place to hide no place to run
  A loo in space has come undone

From far in space a cry unheard
  A spaceman hit by a flying ****
*In July of 2007 I read an article that NASA was spending 19 million US dollars for a Russian built space toilet.  A NASA spokesman said that it was a bargain price compared from building one from scratch.  Not being a plumber myself, what do I know?  Why not have a swank ***** in space, perhaps even with a stack of old Buck Rogers comics floating around.

http://www.techmeme.com/070708/p2#a070708p2

Here's my problem.  On the Today show news this morning they reported that the thing already broke, and I felt that bristling tingle of hairs on the back or my neck rising as a warning that all is not safe.  This surely cannot end well.

So I did what I always do in a crisis.  I wrote a poem.  Hope you enjoy reading it to pass the time that we have left before
That foul, possible fatal, ***** asteroid hits.*
Mike West Dec 2012
This morning I had to go ***** so bad
I squeezed and I pushed with all that I had
And after what seemed like a great battle
I heard a ker-plunk from what I did straddle
The mighty splash that this thing made
To have a look, my curiosity bade
So up I did rise slowly and sure
So as not to drop any poo onto the floor
I looked into the bowl not believing my eyes
This terd was of a most bodacious size
The cause of the strain was now easy to see
I new then not what I had set free
It leaned upright on the side of the bowl
Like it was in a jacuzi relaxed and whole
As I looked at it again in utter disbelief
I knew I had to flush away my relief
But when I pushed the handle on the toilet I found
All the **** did is spin round and round
Like a wooden stick in water being stirred
I was amazed at the stiffness of this ****
When the flush was done I looked with disdain
The **** was still there and left not even a stain
I flushed again with greater resolve
And the **** broke in half as it did revolve
But then as it started to finally go down
Something then happened that made me frown
It got stuck and clogged up the hole
I watched in horror as water filled the bowl
It plugged the toiled up tight like a cork
And now I wished I'd chopped it up with a fork
I grabbed the plunger from off of the floor
And plunged real hard, for my toiled to restore
But though I plunged with all of my might
It seemed that the **** was winning this fight
After several minutes the water went down
But only at a trickle as again I did frown
So along I did move from plan A to plan B
I'd show this **** who's the boss, not it, but me
So with hot water, a bucket I did fill
And dumped it in so it could swallow that pill
After twenty buckets, the **** did give way
And I was able to flush. Hip-Hip-Hooray!
am i ee Sep 2015
i'm so glad you like the frosted flakers...
my dear, my sweet lass,
i'm a doin my best to clean up my ***** moouth...' 


i gotta evicted in have to move to the poor house,
cuz i had to spend all of my money
on soap bars and it it broke me...
gotta clean up my little ***** mouth!!!

i can't come back until i make another fortune...
don't cry my sweet love,
i havn't fergottin' you

and i never, never will....

i'll be back..
as soon as i can ... lickety quick!

good night my sweet love,
my moon i gaze at each night
high in the stary heavens above!

p.s.  i like that manly plumber that stopped by to help you out.
we'll all have some fun when i *** back... he lookin' like he'd make
a good mate, but for now... i'm a happy that he is yer date...
good night my sweet mate date
i see that this brilliant write which is beginning to rival..that thar Shakes pear neet be put in pome lickety quick! : )) <3
Edna Sweetlove Oct 2014
Have you heard about old Erik Satie?
He was quite slim and not un fatti;
Son père was a Frog, his Ma a wee ****
(which must have given quite a shock
to his musical chums at the Conservatoire
where he wrote "Trois morceaux en forme de poire").

While sitting 'au piano' one fine day
At his Honfleur home so bright and gay,
Our Erik felt himself come over queer,
(le résultat triste de beaucoup de bière).
He hadn't felt so odd since he didn't know when
(that's when he wrote his "Gnossiennes").

Now I don't want you to think Erik was bent
That certainly wasn't what I meant;
But there's no doubt he was a little odd
(indeed many called him an asexual sod);
For, although French, he loved not the ladies
(and he also wrote three nice "Gymnopédies").

Many piano pieces which Satie penned
Are rather silly and round the bend;
One was called "Prélude for a Dog"
(which he wrote whilst sur le bogue);
Perhaps his best known work is called "Parade"
Which some people think is quite avant-garde.

He was a bit ***** and collected umbrellas
Which set him apart from saner fellers;
He had lots of velvet suits to his name
(and for some reason, they all looked the same).
But he over-did it on the *****, was often ******,
Thus he died prematurely, and is sorely missed.
abortion/aborticide/infanticide = right to choose, pro-choice
American Indian = native American
***** = African-American
Eskimo = Inuit
chairman = chair/chairperson
court house = judicial center
Department of War = Department of Defense
war = peace keeping
enemy soldier = terrorist
bomb = I.E.D.
unemployed = jobless
unemployment = joblessness
employee = associate/team member
foreman = foreperson
Internal Revenue Dept. = I.R.S./Internal Revenue Service
school = learning center
hospital = medical center/health center or just health
medical care = healthcare
house broken or house trained = ***** trained
~ (I've yet to see a dog use  a ***** chair.)
personnel department = human resources
nurse = R.N. & L.P.N.
medic/paramedic = E.M.T.
orderly  = C.N.A.
van = S.U.V.
D.W.I. = D.U.I.
fireman = fire fighter/ firefighter
policeman = police officer,  law-enforcement officer
police station = law-enforcement center
ordered = asked  (police NEWSPEAK)
floor = ground (police NEWSPEAK)
interrogation = interview
suspect = person of interest
retardate = exceptional, mentally-challenged
crippled = disabled, physically challenged
hard-of-hearing/deaf = hearing impaired
***** = chemically-dependent
tradesman = trades worker/tradesworker
soldier = military member/servicemember (compound word)
******* = transgender
shoes, boots = footwear
eyeglasses/sunglasses = eye wear/eyewear
checks = cash
barber/beautician = stylist
businessman = businessperson
illegal (regarding wetbacks) = undocumented
conqueror = peacekeeper
torture = enhanced interrogation/pain compliance
crime = wrongdoing (compound word)
criminal = wrongdoer
bill collection = recovery management
lie = miscommunication
propaganda/jingoism = P.R./public relations
propaganda minister = public relations officer
meeting = meet-up
ministers = faith leaders
V.D./venereal disease = S.T.D./sexually-transmitted disease
steward/stewardess = flight attendant
welfare/relief = public assistance
food stamps = E.B.T.
waiter/waitress = server
workmen's compensation = workers' compensation
service revolver = duty weapon
Pauvel Jétha Sep 2013
I stroll into the bathroom
newspaper tucked under my arm.
The silent morning ambience
holds for me a special charm.

Whistling,I lift the toilet seat
to take my morning leak.
I'm stopped up short
when I hear someone speak.

"Morning bro,what's up?",
came the voice from below.
I stared in utter disbelief
at the toilet saying hello.

"Don't freak out",it said.
"Just do your thing,I'll do mine.
We can be the best of mates
till the end of ***** time."

"Oh well",I thought
and started where I left off.
Aiming into a talking ***..
Isn't easy..Hey!Don't you scoff!

"Wow!You've got a lot stored up"
quipped the rude toilet.
"No wonder they're saying there's
a drought in the nearby hamlet"

On-off,on-off came the flow
as the seat moved up and down.
Only later did I come to know
I own the most loquacious loo in town.

Irritated I told it to shut up.
"Bro,what will you p### into?",
it laughed,splashing water around.
No arguing that,it speaks true..

"Hey did you hear?
Old Loo-pin next drain
got married to Pottyara.
I hate her,she's too vain!"

"Work on your technique mate,
I've seen toddlers do better...
My,my!Seriously?!Still got more?!
I'm getting wetter and wetter!"

"Will you hold still!"I shouted.
"Hey don't take that tone with me.
Being watered in the maw ain't fun.
Swap places and then we'll see!"

"It'd be a lot more easier",I reasoned
"if you would stop yapping.
Who cares about super toilets?!
Now just start lapping!"

"Okay sheesh,someone's grumpy.
What?!show some pity on the loo!
Hey!Wait!Stop right there!!
Sh##,now I've to take poo too?!"

"Okay get this over with quickly.
You're choking me!!Aaaahhh!!!
Okay,never ever again take
chilly sauce with pizza!"

As I flush and leave,it cries
"Oh the horror!the horror!!!
All the perfumes of Arabia
cannot wash away this odour!"
;)
Oh the silver ships on plastic oceans ,
Marshmello clouds above garbage tips .
and the smell of acrid sewage pouring into rivers deep in slime and filth .

A  can of tin lies abandoned in the road ,
Cars with petrol heads ,
Children lying in their mothers beds ,
Wheeze as plumes of smog rise above their heads .

Mattresses dumped on public land ,
a mother to tired to think ,
Worn out by screaming child who just needs a ***** or a drink ?

And on we go round and round on a merry go round ,
While the earth looks weary on.

And aliens surround us with their knives and mobile phones ,
to scared to walk ,
talk ,
just run .


The hospitals await them still full to the brim with gun law and hate . And on we go ,
to Whales washed up on beaches  
Polar bears drift on sheets of ice,
burning oil fills the sea ,
man lights a cigarette in silence ,
and yes it still bothers me .
Even  so ,


the  earth looks  on in silence .
Turtles and fish eat and die from plastic that swells the Ocean deep .

,Now silence and weeping as floods and bugs enter our summer and winter .
No frost to chill the dawn ,
summer with its beaches full of idol sun lovers who left bags and cans now where have they gone ?
Not to the sea ,
for it is empty ,
not to buy for the shops have all closed .
To their beds they lay dying ,
as the earth looks ever on .
Then with candy floss dreams ,
and fair ground rides stop and sick and ***** we fall ,
One baby ,
One gift was born to save us all .
Taylor St Onge Apr 2014
The monster in my closet is not the
Lord of the Flies or the way I hiccup at
the mention of tombstones like picket fences
or the Bible I have sitting on back burner, waiting and
turning to ash as I switch my focus elsewhere;
it is my freedom, it is my voice, it is my vulnerability.

I have found that the true steps to being a woman are
        
        One:
To never say “no” to a man: he is right, he is infinite;
Man, with a capital “M,” is Right with a capital “R.”
I must find my place beneath his boot and be
grateful for the attention.  I must offer myself to him
on a silver platter and ****** my wrists back when
he latches on like leeches in ponds—
innocence is necessary but experience is a must.
I need only to serve him and serve him well.
Dinner will be ready by five.

        Two:
After snapping my fingers and throwing on an apron
I need only to make shopping lists and fold laundry
and wash dishes and dust coffee tables and
***** train toddlers and begin the ironing—I must
become a less troublesome Lucy, and as Sylvia said,
become the place from where the arrow
shoots off from; my husband will be the
        arrow into the future
        the bright light at the end of the tunnel
        the brains, if you will,
ask him all your silly intellectual questions,
goodness me, how would I know anything
outside of homemaking?

        Three:
While living in the Valley of the Dolls,
it is important to play the part precisely because
anything less than the best is a catastrophe—
this isn’t suburbia this is su-Barbie-a  where
women are beautiful and poised, plastic in shells
with skin as cold as the freezers they keeps their words
in.  Your businessman of a husband will come home from
work at quarter to five and say,
        “silence is golden,”
as he pats your daughter on the head,
and you will not know to which one of you
he is communicating with because,
yes, of course, he is in charge of the vocal cords, being
stronger and smarter than the two of you; it is only
logical to accept his words as law.  Besides,
neither you nor your daughter really deserves the
right to not only speak when spoken to; girls have
silly and inconsequential ideas anyway.

        Four:
I must give myself up for love.  A woman without
a single altruistic bone in her body is
not a woman at all, but rather a shadow.  In order to
prove myself, prove my loyalty, prove anything, I must
first prove my heart.  At age eighteen, I will go backstage
for a costume change: graduation gown to wedding gown.
Don’t worry, Mother, he told me that college is overrated;
he told me that the only other education I will need
lies within homemaking skills—the easy life, don’t you see?
Love is my biggest flaw and greatest weapon, and
I must learn to wield it.

        Five:
But without a man, nothing is possible.  Catching
one like fish in nets is the goal, but in order to do so,
it is imperative that I realize that
beauty is not deeper than skin; beauty is pliable like bamboo
and is only prevalent when it is in paint.  I must become
Wendy, I must stay in Neverland, I
must
          not
                  age.
It is important to look young but not to act young.
It is even more important for my ribs to break
through my flesh—my beginning will be my end
but at least I’ll look good.

I am not afraid of the dark or of heights or
of storms or of doctors or dogs; I am
afraid of time reversing, I am afraid of
returning normalities.  That  fifteen-year-old girl
I saw post online about how she was
“born in the wrong decade” and how she would be
a “much better fit for the ‘50s” scares me to death.  
If I was expected to choose between
career             and             family,
I would sit at the bottom of the
fig tree like Sylvia;
              I would stick my head
                                               right in the oven.
I originally wrote this for a satire project in AP Language and Composition.

— The End —