"raffles" poems
At last these Plums took the Daughter in Kind
From Lord Raffles' Paradise she adored
A Marriage of Saints she thought to remind
Though behind her Door was Melancholy.
But who a Pony-Child in Fashion's New
Could taste the Recipe she may not like?
Clotted Cream? Or Fish in the River-View
Tore through the Muddy Dress to greet her Delight
This is not the Age, Tories of the West
To switch on Lights dimmed for your Books to read
She is a Sweet-Tooth; Or Filmer at best
Just give her a Spoon; She makes one Great Mead.
She is my Friend. And the Plum's Diver Son
Rewarded a Follow never un-done.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:39 AM UTC
Her hands are made of sandpaper, and her eyes they look like fear;
And the fragility of her porcelain heart is a sign that death is near.
The demons in the form of thought pick apart her empty mind.
They leave her on the roadside, where she is left, deaf, dumb and blind.
Screaming for redemption from her swollen, dry, cracked lips;
In an act of desperation, she starts to sway her paper hips.
With only one thing left to give, she has nothing left to lose;
She raffles off her body for feeble cash and sketchy *****
And the wrinkles on her face are tiny riverbeds for tears;
Urban camouflage of leather skin and dried up makeup smears.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
ITS CEASELESS BLINDNESS IS ITS POWER,
IT HOISTS ITS POWER BY THE HOUR,
NO OUGHT IF DWELLING, FORT, OR TOWER,
THE EAGLE EYES GLARE THROUGH ITS GRIM TERRORS,
ITS LUCK IS POOR, THUS IT ENCOUNTERS,
ENDLESS PROBLEMS, ENEMIES, ERRORS,
WHEN TIME HAS COME TO FACE THE BEARERS,
IT GOES, DEFENDS WHAT IT SEES FAIRER,
THE CIVIL PRAY FOR PEACE FROM BATTLES,
IT FIGHTS TO TAKE WHAT IT CAN HANDLE,
ULTIMATE FORCES USED AS RAFFLES,
YET MAN IS STRONG,
STRENGTH IS IMPERIL,
INTEL IS THE ORAL,
THAT LEADS TO HIS QUARREL,
THE PLACE WHERE HE KEEPS HIS BOWS AND ARROWS,
TO WHERE THE SHIELD AND SWORD HANG BY THE MARROW,
THOUGH IT’S LIFE IS HARD, ROUGH AND NARROW,
ITS TRUE LIGHT NOUGHT BE EQUAL TO ITS DARKEST SHADOWS…
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
mother problems
chicken pox
asked my aunt
she replied
shower my mother with love and care
after many tries
chicken pox
appointment to the end
of chicken pox
sent my mother a message that she wasn’t okay
drowsy drowsy
medicines
drowsy
shouts and screams
a clueless father
a I-dont-give-two-fucking-shits sister
exams over
results out
failed my favourite subject
HOW DID I FAIL LITERATURE
chicken pox doctor
misdiagnosis
then gave me wrong number of weeks to rest
choreography for bollywood
tamil folk
parents were showering ill concealed parental
concern
went to support
ran ran ran
confused and nervous
of the entire world hating me
i ran. ran. i ******* ran
wash the dishes
cooked **** - got scolded for not cooking
extremely pms-y father
why the ******* hell did that happen
cooked
messed up dishes
ate dinner outside
whole family sick
syf prac horrendous
out of breath
trying to run
dinner outside everyday
people who didnt listen
people who didnt care about the dance
time limit
one week before kanal
havent finished choreography
CHICKEN ****** POX
came back to school
parents being ***
whole family down with chicken pox
mother working her *** off
she doesnt want any help
dancing dancing dancing
mother’s talk about me trying to get away from dance
raffles diploma
performance
november performance
i couldnt dance
kicked out ruthlessly
kanal
five minutes before
a message no more such activities next year
marche dinner
screamed and screamed
out of breath
******* hole in my throat
ran ran ran ran ran
away from idiosyncrasies
raffles diploma
career choices
out of money
where did all the money go
where did all the money go
goals
fashion designer
parents : banker, scientist
work backwards from the goal
dance i want to dance
outings
2 days before
go on to khan academy
father only listens to himself
crushed bones
crushed ribcages
i cant breathe
still running
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
Raffles
stole their hearts
and then...
he stole
their jewelry.
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 7:01 AM UTC
I may not ever win the lottery,
or even raffles at football games.
I could go the rest of my life without ever winning a game of chance,
consistently losing cards, money, and dignity.
Yet my lack of superficial fortune will never phase me,
for as long as I’m with you
I am the luckiest person alive.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC
A night of glo sticks, in shades full of neon, of raffles and crackers.
All sadly gone.
The neon will fade.
As will do the writers of words.
Passed poets and musicians must all be at peace.
Those that passed today, may play at Heavens Gate, a party for the rock stars gone.
A boogie woogie date.
Let the music play on
As Christmas is brewing, take a sip of a special cup.
A cup full of good cheer, but never enough.
To bring back to mind past lovers of passion who went out of their minds.
Who sang all the songs and spoke loving words, until what once was normal became so absurd.
The last days of the years I cry no more tears ,except for the artist who left us today.
Dedicated to the late great Joe Cocker and A.N.Other, my last one time lover.
(c) Livvi
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
wind, water, and rhyme
brushed away the sands of time
like golden hair - fine
out of a lover's blue eyes
revealing glimpses
into the past
little chocolate heart-sized samples of a
lost civilization swallowed like pride
wonder struck and sowed a seed of curiosity
like one who just discovered knowledge
and the depth of its beauty
desiring to seek that forbidden fruit
knowing well what trap lies there
its beauty, divine and sparkling
a silver crown encrusted with sapphires
that begs one to look further
dig for all the treasure beneath
its beauty: but also worn and dull
like an over-washed, one-size-too-large t-shirt
not highlighting assets
instead drowning them in an ocean of grey
its beauty: where sweetness raffles
like eating trail mix
and its bitterness is cold, black coffee
some crowns are stained with impatience
brush a little more delicately
around the fragile artifacts
never digging too deep
for fear of fumbling it all
uncov'ring these time capsules
conditioned as they were
preserved by memory lapses
laps in a labyrinth
why do we seek
buried, ancient artifacts
instead of building new ones
with the plant that knowledge became?
why do we bury deep
our prized possessions
like a dog buries a bone?
- to dig them up later
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 5:43 AM UTC
Love is in the air
It's everywhere
OOO I'm losing you
But we win against ISIS
and I wouldn't worry about certain people
being drips or even our sissis
Not that we really do,
Some of us at least,
Or if there's rhyme or reason
to the rock group Little Feat
I'm sure the dust will clear
on the Jimmy Dean - John Wayne
duel delusions of some of us.
That we'll be more grateful
for simple love demonstrated
and won't feel we have to be registrated
for all the latest raffles
life will be one big successful raffle
and not for us a big hassle
and l'll look up an old Yankees farmhand
that sounded good to me on the Internet
Bobby Lasko
Love, love is in the air.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 3:32 PM UTC