"prepaid" poems
High synth notes
Japanese thunder
you amaze yourself
Walk with headphones
through grass patches
and brightly lit streets
heavy petroleum clouds
nigerian gutter feast
of trash and telephones
prepaid cards
litter homes floors
in cardboard sandals
shuffling past pubs
London clenched ribs
teeth breathe heart beats
Kick old orchestras
through instrumental mixes
modernity insanity
kinyopoetry.com
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 11:55 AM UTC
I got to where I am today
Without the aide of
Book-smarts
And being a nerd.
I beat up nerds,
Steal their girlfriends
And drive them to
My parent's summer house
In the Hamptons!
No, I don't need
Book-smarts
To graduate from
Harvard.
My tuition was prepaid
And business comes as natural to me
As does stealing your girlfriend!
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 4:58 PM UTC
I’m a stamp -
no, I didn’t say “I’m just a stamp”,
or “I’m but a stamp” -
but I am a stamp
a postage stamp, that is;
unique and proud, in my own class,
for I’ve carried queens and kings and emperors
(I still do)
and I carry Presidents and Poets and Rock Kings
and Pop Kings
and Musicians and Legends and Heroes
and Gods and Nations;
and I carry **** blondes
and old dames who’ve dedicated their lives to others
I’ve borne with no complaints
the weight of genius
and soldiers and founders of nations
and martyrs; and I do not discriminate
and with like gusto and color
I’ve carried tyrants and murderers and charlatans
and once-were-legends now the shamed;
and look, I can encompass the universe
and within the shapes formed by my perforations
I’ve held together flowers and birds
and all wonders of nature
I am each a poem, a work of art
I’m a stamp -
no, I didn’t say “I’m just a stamp”,
or “I’m but a stamp”
(What? You heard me the first time, did you?
Well, I’ll say it again for emphasis!) -
but I am a stamp in my own right, unique and proud -
though, I acknowledge,
the image of Royalty or Heroism or Greatness has
not saved me from various knocks and hard presses
and the ******* bin!
But then, so have mighty royal heads rolled!
but look, hee…heee….heee…
I can be absolutely adorable,
and I just love, love it when you lick me;
and often too
I’m a collector’s item
increasing in value, and even with artistic merit -
though no doubt, there are countless with no idea
of how so darling precious I am
which is I why
I say proudly again:
I’m a stamp
no, I didn’t say “I’m just a stamp”,
or “I’m but a stamp”
(And what? Why do I repeat myself?
Well, there are thousands of copies
of one issue, aren’t there?) -
but I am a stamp in my own right, unique and proud
and I’ve created worlds all of my own
with pen pals and commerce
and industries and clubs round me;
and I’m not alone, you know,
well-supported by relatives
like prepaid postal envelopes, post cards,
letter cards, aerogrammes
all of us served loyally
by unquestioning Gurkha-style postmen and women;
and I’ve brought hearts and minds together
and I do it in a day or days and or weeks
and if I feel like it, I even arrive decades later! –
and there’s nothing you can do about it!
And oh yes, I can see, you’re prone to neglecting me -
you ungrateful scoundrels! -
first replacing me with cold
Franking Machines,
and cheap, unimpressive, unimaginative franking marks
and with postage meters
imprinting an indicia;
and all of you now
deriding my world as snail pace
in your world of instant e-mails -
but I persist, and I still am of much use
for - listen carefully -
and I say proudly again:
I’m a stamp
no, I didn’t say “I’m just a stamp”,
or “I’m but a stamp” -
but I am a stamp in my own right, unique and proud;
and if you, once in a while,
want to show me your loyalty –
come to a local post office and lick my royal ****
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 10:03 AM UTC
old age arrives
old age arrives
in a plain, brown box,
prepaid and taped
against intrusion.
loosely packed,
it rattles
in the handling,
invites curiosity and
with no return address
suggests
opening.
Aug 19, 2010
Aug 19, 2010 at 6:33 AM UTC
i've washed the sheets and slept for days
since you left home
i thought you'd be right back
i thought the last time we ******
wasn't going to be the last
i wish i were sober enough to remember it all
i'm calling from a prepaid phone
to reach you on your prepaid line
i'm sleeping on a futon
that hasn't been pulled out since you disappeared
idk if you still even care
i fall in love and never leave
just tell me you're done and we can figure it out
when are you coming home to me
i've been so alone i can't hardly breathe
i'll get my **** together when you call
i'll get my **** together when you don't
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 11:58 PM UTC
M’lud
I stand before you
Contained within this dock
The night I was arrested
I can tell you
Was a shock!
Because? … I do NOT write in metaphors
Because?… I say it as it IS
This is the crime
I’m guilty of
By the …
Poetry Police
Another one that irks them so
Is because I write in rhyme
They think that they are clever
That extended is
Divine
I would like to
exercise
my
freedom
Wield
my
pen
Just
as
I
please
M’lud
Take pity
On this soul
Who pleads
On bended knees
For … there is much room in the pantry
For us all to get along
For … there is much room in the pantry
To sing our different songs
Songs of different cultures
Songs of unrequited love
Songs of just plain nonsense
Songs yet to be dreamed of
M’lud
I now beseech you
Appeal for your support
Pay credence to my musings
Throw this case
Straight out of court
For the greater man
Will walk alone
When his backs against the wall
The greater man
Will stand alone
In any port of call
For he has the inner knowledge
He has free rein of his mind
He understands complexities
Eyes are no longer blind
Blind to prepaid formulas
Rules they set in stone
Please protect poetic liberty
For … I will never be a clone
CASE WAS DISMISSED AND THE JUDGE SANCTIONED THAT ALL POETS FROM NOW ON WILL BE PROTECTED BY THE POETIC LIBERTY ACT 2010
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 6:59 AM UTC
~~~
for Lucy: who gave me the title, three poems, a compliment, and the X Factor {inspiration} then disappeared
~~~
the spume,
the sea foam concentrate, a greener white,
from the the salt and the souls of million dead organisms,
the natural compost of its formation
it, watches the poet, who watches it,
the spume,
come ashore for its final act of
immolation by evaporation
which is why the random act of
an unseen ministering force,
fills my ears with humbling glory of
Samuel Barber's
Agnus Dei,^
my fresh reminder that this
fooling, swelling chest
in this temporary abode of mine human shape,
by the sea,
its passage and welling swelling,
is prepaid for too
expiration by evaporation
as all the white wooly lambs march to the sea,
transmigrating,
returning to spume
~~~
Lyrics to Agnus Dei
^ Alleluia Alleluia
For our Lord God Almighty reigns
Alleluia Alleluia
For our Load God Almighty reigns
Alleluia
Holy Holy
Are You Lord God Almighty
Worthy is the Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb
You are Holy
Holy
Are You Lord God Almighty
Worthy is the Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb
Amen
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 4:06 AM UTC
a lament locked on her lips
held in place by lipstick
its powerful sorrows leak down
her chin in a thin red rivulet
to fall to the pure white satin sheet
pooling there like a lake of fire
smouldering there like a woman's
scorned heart
the song of her eyes
has become warped and
distorted and distant
like the sound of a small child crying
in some obscure corner of your house
but you cannot place the sound
it moves with a religious dignity
that defys logic
it escapes your grasp for you were never intended to
to see her vulnerability
his closed fist mouth
is drawn taught
with all the things he withholds
with all the children of his long nights
spent pacing and thinking in the small cell
of his cinderblock mind
these children are but shadows of thought
but he feeds them like starving dogs
rabid to be released into steaming hot sun
his mask of a ****** expression
haunts his brittle dream
he keeps coming to a mirror
to behold that he is unchanged
he is the man the boy wanted to be
he is what his mother always dreamed he'd be
her nurturing touch is cracked
its egg shell surface bleeds
its sounds are foreign
and i surrender to its relentless devotions
bend to the precise course they dictate
absolution
prostrate to the purchased dream
follower of the prepaid horror
a lament locked on her lips
held in place by lipstick
its powerful sorrows leak down
her chin in a thin red rivulet
to fall to the pure white satin sheet
pooling there like a lake of fire
smouldering there like a woman's
scorned heart
and within that punishment box
i bleed for the face i am not
i suffer the eggshell dream
for a tenderness that i did not harm
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
Watercolor forests time lapse
in their creaking ancient rings
We're smearing their earth tones
as the sawblade sings
Grins of snake oil drilling
seeping speculation
on massive scales
Rigged justice with financial backing
even as the prepaid system fails
Golden ratios and timeless cycles
failing the fickle expectations of
fiscal years
But you should know dead
money tastes awful
on a trail of tears
Captive nations petrified
in amber waves not replaced
Borrowing fallen feathers
to hide all we've faced
Dialed down the stars
To depict time as
a definite place
our fragile Axis Mundi
fallen from grace
But how do you find a voice
to speak for the trees
When you’ve been living
in skyscrapers
slums
and SUVs?
As bloodshot tired eyes fail
you've gone too far away
If we meet between the rows
what's left to say?
Brief clashes of red
then long fades to grey?
Am I your keeper
or am I your slave?
Your strip mauled *** toy
to plow and pave?
If you miscarry what was it
we even wanted to save?
You know the cemetery but
I know the grave.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
Six Minutes
Created: Jun 18, 2011 2:27 PM
Finished: Jun 18, 2011 2:33 PM
-----------------------------------------------
In every breeze, in every blade waving to me,
I hear the poetry that encompasses;
the insects brushed off my tattered t shirt
are eavesdroppers, premature sightseers,
over-the-shoulder peekers,
wanting a preview of what has just been scored
and written up and how big a part they have.
shadows upon the lawn,
dancing a modest but frothy salsa,
my heart lips speak peace unto us all
and my eyes see my dear ones, beside me,
in my envelope of words, you are embraced:
to all, I say now you are bound to me
by thoughts of tenderness no lawyers can sunder,
that needs no caveated blessing from
city clerk or prepaid spiritual diviner.
my forked branch twitchs where wells,
nay, reservoirs of all cherished natural vitals
are awaiting for us to drill and drink,
raw, direct to the bloodstream,
which when warmed by a warmth
I have no words to describe other than
it is given and stored within for consumption
when sad moments arrive,
and when called upon, restores and soothes
when hugs and words cannot,
but for now, for knowing, for keeping.
you though distant, grow closer,
and I will ride through the nite
with two lanterns to announce our reunification
after so long, what could be better
than to fall upon your neck, and lips parted,
whisper words of thanksgiving
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
When you cease to talk to me
I feel empty more than you imagine
My life seems to drain away
I sit and wait for you to call
Or drop me some long awaited text message
Then does my heart rejoice
Trying to slow my return text
Oh, she replied in 15 minutes
That means I have to wait at least 45
Eh, I managed 35, let's do it anyways
And thus we continue our beleaguered talk
I want to be near you
To talk in person
But without a prepaid gas card
That will definitely not happen
Though every weekend just might be possible
I will do my best to be around you
But my lips will invariably stray
Wandering away from you is unquestionable
Though how often is up for debate
I will do my best to make it less than once a week
I'm sorry for quitting you so quickly
I must be the biggest freak
That you have ever met
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 8:27 PM UTC
we are always on our way
we beat our chests,
broken clocks, we are honest twice a day.
our groundhogs overstay
in cuckoo nests
we are always on our way
in metric evenings led astray,
most of us have been recessed,
broken clocks, we are honest twice a day.
we are made to coil halfway,
beat those who love us best
we are always on our way.
we make time prepaid
and tendons compressed,
broken clocks, we are honest twice a day
we say
we are guests
we are always on our way
broken clocks, we are honest twice a day.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
A Poor man,
And a Rich man,
Live in a hotel,
One man pays for his room,
Always two months in advance,
But before he could move in,
He had two months to wait,
He slept in the street,
Cold, wet, and sore,
The other man,
Who pays one day at a time,
Has already moved in,
One day both men die,
Both were successful,
But one was happier,
You see we call one rich
Because he has paid in advance,
He has no immediate bills,
And we call one poor
Because he has bills each day,
He has not prepaid,
But the poor man is happier in death,
He never slept on the street,
He has enjoyed his wealth and life,
The rich man is dissatisfied,
He has paid for another two months,
Now it's wasted, he lived on the street for naught,
This is a sad truth of finances today,
We think that worrying constantly,
And trying to plan our future,
Will put us ahead, but in fact we fall behind,
Do not waste each day on the next,
Only to die without enjoying your fruit,
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
The carpenters house is never finished.
The dishwashers roomate leaves passive aggressive sticky notes on the faucet.
After work, the cook does not make dinner; the cook finds dinner.
The retail worker will not hesitate to call you an *******
The bartender
can not hold a relationship.
The caregiver
can not bear a child
When the lobbyist comes home, there is no talk of money; there is no talk at all, only passion, hands and coffee.
When the lobbyist does not come home, there is plenty talk of money; prepaid hotel suites, passion, hands and no coffee.
In the *** workers free time, the *** worker does not give body to strangers; you will never find a lover more faithful than the *** worker.
When the prophett dies, the prophett keeps living.
When the artist is not painting
the artist is watching.
The worlds most powerful leaders have a dungeon in their basement.
The sociopath can know what is right and do the wrong thing anyway.
The sociopath doesn't need a job for that.
It just happens...
sometimes...
The sociopath is working on it.
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 6:59 AM UTC
Speak up more, not less, using your own ideo-vocalized mess.
Soliloquy — in front of yourself and everyone else-a-melse.
Monologue, dog!
You and I can flip-flop nonstop lolly pop but that gets trite fast and then we just so need to speak our favor-ite verbo-bite.
Bebop, hiphop, tipitity-top, slop-a-pop.
Ski-ba-bop-ba-bop-voc; do that thang nonstop.
Be-cause …
We have been flattened by the road-grade blade of the prepaid lexicographers.
We have been run over by the top-botched, pop-a-voc.
We have suffered weak-a-squeak.
We have sold out for safety and we have shut up way too much because we thought we were stuck-a-muck with duck and cluck.
Nope! Fess; you’ve got that vocable mess!
Unperson; you’ll worsen, but word-dive and jivity jive and you’ll revive.
See!
Be inventy.
Sync with your blink.
Que with your you and do-ba-de-do
Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC
/0/Illusion of choice
/0/0/0/0/and half of us cannot even see our internal invoice
/0/Our choices are prepaid for us. choose to do nothing while we are hooked on what we think is a must/070/our addiction becomes a relapse. /00/ times for our mind to succumb into collapse//096/Dividing into what you think is control/06/Dangerous organized power overflow//01//hooked upon hope/ distortion of reality//07/' another string added to our rope that is choking and dividing us/223/0to the point of death while they are watching//0/ and
surveying our ****** dismemberment//0921/and they expect me to have grips of sentiment to this dis-array of lost hope67/// reality is questioned as your eyes and ears are not seen as is////0 this is true dysfunction and the s33ds of new corruption/0/// question the S!MULATION///0// Isolation/// suicide rates are higher than ever and then once your g0ne you are lost forever/desire to connect together/I AM here you are al0ne/ alternative ways to throw a stone/// ParAnoia
actions that are questionable/ unreliable/undivide-able/// the days move on with regularly/09/ while the corruption comes alive periodically/// if you wake up in a different time/in a different place/could you wake up as a different person//0 staples of my unstable state of mind/09/// numb the pa!n and don't die in va!n
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 5:00 PM UTC
Call me Cell; call me at your will.
I am mobile, ever awake and agile
I am numbered and remembered
I am charged daily, let me discharge.
I answer calls without slip or sleep
Post-paid or prepaid, I am prepared
I am with you, keep me with you
I have wide network of fast homework
I am in your pocket close to your purse
Preserve me; I am meant to serve you,
My presence is pride and precious,
My absence makes all the difference
I am at your beck and call
Take me with you and use as well
I take you to all to be with you
I am multi-functional and multi-dimensional
Today’s life is hell without cell
Touch or tab, I keep you in touch
My voice has its weight and value
It is heard in tunes and tones you value
In crowded calls, some calls may miss,
Answer mischievous calls in silent mode.
Beware, mobile mob may rob mobile
Be wise and vigilant; I am your personal device.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
Call me Cell; call me at your will.
I am mobile, ever awake and agile
I am numbered and remembered
I am charged daily, let me discharge.
I answer calls without slip or sleep
Post-paid or prepaid, I am prepared
I am with you, keep me with you
I have wide network of fast homework
I am in your pocket close to your purse
Preserve me; I am meant to serve you,
My presence is pride and precious,
My absence makes all the difference
I am at your beck and call
Take me with you and use as well
I take you to all to be with you
I am multi-functional and multi-dimensional
Today’s life is hell without cell
Touch or tab, I keep you in touch
My voice has its weight and value
It is heard in tunes and tones you value
In crowded calls, some calls may miss,
Answer mischievous calls in silent mode.
Beware, mobile mob may rob mobile
Be wise and vigilant; I am your personal device.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 9:17 AM UTC
One words worth of attention, prepaid. Free.
What is the value in fame?
What is the ranking on the spectrum of good better best?
No losers, doerdiedoerdiedoerdie try
umph,
po-et-tu-try
a ah ahhh
'istory
shew, a reeely big shewbread sword of Goliath, by golly,
weapons for pullin' down strong
holds, hordes of dragon lies,
and deadly fears
for your attention to this word from my sponsor,
true.
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 4:46 PM UTC
living in this life of tomorrow
where drowns fill the skies
and will serve us food soon
where robots build everything
and food is harvested by machines
and what has to be made
is made in sweet shops
hard work is no longer done by us
it's always the Mexicans you see
how lazy we all have become
and we wonder why
work is hard to come by
cars that can now drive them self
computers that tell you what to do
and how your deepest secrets
can be caught by your smart television
you think that's all
well you don't have a clue
if you drive or have a cell phone
you all have a microchip on you
pin pointing your every move
your TV that went digital
that is so the government can watch you
as long as it's plugged in they can watch
no privacy
camera's on every block
imaging that can go through brick walls
and listening devices can hear you from mile away
the bank card is going away
and you will have a micro chip put in you
your grocery list you will no longer have to right
your basket will guide you to everything
bagged and prepaid while you read a book
you want more
no one has ever heard of 'stern'
a super collider
that is where they want to produce matter
energy that we don't even understand
and they are playing with it
**** we we go to space
have a space lab
looking for life on Mars
and yet we have an ocean
we know little about
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
When The Blind Leads
Those led become lost
From afar comes loud pleads
To Save everybody at all cost.
Hence salvation costs pray and bucks
The religious few will turn to the church
While the rest march on like ducks
Blindly led, without knowing much.
Quick calls to God's prayer line
Made from the pastor's iPhone 9
Just to make sure everyone's fine
Prepaid calls, another religious 419.
And so time stands still and watches
As the deep gap gradually decreases
And on and on the blind leader marches
As the last signs of hope varnishes.
Yet on they go without direction
Tick..tack tick tack. anxiety increases
As they head in the wrong direction.
Following blindly until everyone crashes!
✍️ #IvanBrookspoetry©️
Jan 18, 2018
Jan 18, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC
2a.m. is when my mind goes to work
And of course it's dark magic mixed with mayhem
Of course it leaves me cold and vulnerable
This world is more corrupt than I thought it was
I grew up on playgrounds and forests
And nowadays kids grow up on streets and prepaid jail cells with body bags on standby
Our landfills filled with plastic and our waters polluted because profit is more important
But no one will really read this so my words hit the air and fall to the ground
Like the voices of young African Americans who have already been taken
And for some reason media portrays the good as bad and the bad as good
And black people are thugs
While white people have mental illness
I try not to judge
And I can't sleep at night
I worry about my brothers out there while trying to portray myself in a different light
My head won't stop spinning some times
I think we should all be as natural as possible
Free your mind from society and abnormalities
Try counting your money as you hold your breath
I'm afraid to be in debt
But education is what we need for a proper foundation
So why is the key to success so expensive
The 1% wants us to be helpless
They want us to struggle so they can reign supreme
It's no longer about happiness or following your dreams
It's become a way to just survive
And I don't know how I'm going to leave my parents house with the wages they provide
Maybe this is why depression is so common
We all know we're gonna die
But for some reason they don't want to see us thrive
My friend Tony was shot 7 times and the murderer is walking free
All because of his skin color and a badge
If that doesn't make you angry then you're part of the problem
When it gets late at night I don't know what I will start to ponder
I just know the world is messed up
And I'm afraid of the future
If we don't fix things it will never get better
So open your heart before you open your mouth
You might be surprised about what ends up coming out
So please listen to the world around you
Take into consideration that we are all here for a greater destination
I started writing this with the intention of a different message
But some things just shouldn't be kept quiet
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 8:17 AM UTC
You don’t want commitment
I am not a prepaid affair
Lets try this out first you say
There is a no refund on me
Lets get some things straight
If you’re a cheating player
I won’t be your playing field
I’m not a confessional
Your lies are not forgiven here
No masks allowed on my stage
Don’t sell me your fake ****
Break my heart and leave
I won’t be a post you can delete
I will give you my love, my all
Unattended you lose me
Love is but a fair trade
You get what you give.
I’m done with modern relationshit
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
Loyalty
bought with the cheque book,
Reality is,
so few care and give a **** about loyalty
unless you're the man with
the cash in his hand
and think
you've got it all planned but
plans fall apart as the cash dwindles away along
with the dreams of the people who creamed off the top,
you say,
' that you bought them,lock, stock,contracts carved into rock'
but you can't buy a loyalty card prepaid,you can't put a lock on
the aspirations of men,cannot parade them as your yea, yea, amen,
you know it too
and the reality is,
Loyalty is earned
burned into the hearts of the women and men who were with you back then and are with you today,
are you with them?
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 7:13 AM UTC
The pretense of youthful ignorance prepaid her attractiveness for
ohh... so many reasons and times.
(wannabe predators salivate)
She knew her allure
but not if it is truly real.
At least she did realize (thank you Damion) that when the attraction fades out,
so will she...
Mar 29, 2025
Mar 29, 2025 at 2:05 PM UTC