"redheaded" poems
Two times in four years
We allowed ourselves to be wild.
We found a dark room and four years later
a backseat in an even
Darker vehicle.
The second time was the best
Because I felt twice as bad by the end
But twice as satisfied.
I fell in lust for one hot week
And because of this,
The only fault is my own.
But it still hurts
Worse than losing someone that I
Have l loved every day forever
When I think of your red hair spilling like wine
In some bed
With someone else.
At least you let me have a taste.
I guess I should be grateful.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
Within a veil of light rain
a redheaded woodpecker
percussively rap drills
his evening dinner.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 6:39 PM UTC
He was the Weekender Boy
with lips that tasted like salty sea caramel
on lovely Saturday mornings
and caresses that felt like soft warm sunbeams
on lazy Sunday afternoons
Mondays she sat behind him in lecture halls
watching the back of his black-haired head
as he flirted in the front row seats
Tuesdays were him walking past her bench
pinning her in place with those glacier blue eyes
that always turned away to porcelain redheaded dates
Wednesdays it was his calls that came at 3:05AM without fail
and she'd listen patiently to his drunken rants and giggles
that sometimes ended in tears and incoherent apologies
Thursdays he exhaled alcohol breaths one-two-three-four
while laying her down across his green vintage car hood
gentle as she moved lithe and languorous beneath him
Fridays they broke dorm rules and shared a room at night
they stayed up over beer and banana milk
and at sunrise she'd wake up in his arms to his smiling eyes
He was the Weekender Boy,
and she was the only girl who ever owned him on weekends.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
He always sits alone at lunch,
The Roundheaded Kid.
(That's what they call him.)
He never talks to me,
But I wouldn't mind if he tried sometime.
I think I like him,
But I'd never tell him so.
Yesterday he looked at me,
Sitting by myself on this bench,
Eating peanut butter and feeling lonely
Especially when it stuck to the roof of my mouth . . .
I thought I saw something
Sparkle in his eyes.
(The Roundheaded Kid has nice eyes.)
But he saw me looking back,
And put his lunch bag over his head.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 12:31 AM UTC
i wish i wasn't so afraid of my forehead.
afraid i'll brush my bangs just the wrong way and someone will remark
"my god! that girl looks weird with her forehead showing."
afraid like i could change a part of my face.
i guess i could if i was one of those rich ******* on "housewives of ---"
or jwow on jersey shore
i could go shopping for new noses
and larger cheek bones.
like changing a feature of my face will make me more wantable
when it's the crap that comes out of my heart people don't like
instead
i wish i could bare my forehead
stick my middle finger right up there for all to see
but i am afraid of my forehead
what is a forhead?
just a bit of skin
just a little forehead
that is what scares
this redheaded leopard
this is why lionesses hide in kitchens
majestic ************* that should be out there running things
this is why there are no women presidents
because we are afraid of
ourselves
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
Outside looking in
Like a redheaded stepchild
Like a dumped cat
Like Belushi on the ladder
Just...FUCK YOU, alrite?
You hurt me
Lick sweat off my *****
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
My little redheaded cousin
Still in elementary school
Or whatever it's called in Belfast
The news just came in
From the other side of the pool
The Brexit movement has passed
Will little Aoife still be
Able to travel freely southward
To see the rest of her family in Ireland?
I'll have to wait and see
If North Ireland's change will be hard
I have no idea what's being planned
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 9:36 PM UTC
Simply, a commentary of the races.
Every minority is comfortable to some perspective in their own skin.
Being label and tagged this for years.
But what we notice?
Whites are fearful of going into being the minority race.
Although power will still be within their hands.
Which?
Is why many still support this redheaded joke of a man?
He reminds many of their own stupidity.
He barely can read simple words written
He mirrors many of them.
Of course, not all cause many whites are extremely smart.
What?
We notice that they have too.
And it kills them is that must honest compete for employment.
Sure, the good friendship connection still exists.
Some know for a fact they got ahead due to it being a family's business.
And truly think they earned their way when you employed by your family.
Only, one race more than others can honestly state with factual reality of truth.
They never really met a black until they were in college.
This what we notice?
Many white officers are quick trigger shooters dealing with black youth.
Although more whites have mouth when confronted.
And all minorities know the lie of defense.
I felt threatened for my life.
It's taught to say.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 10:36 AM UTC
like a redheaded tiger
i too have stripes
red ones on my wrists
thighs
forearms
like a tiger
i can stand the fire
red hot welt
on my freckled forearm
like a tiger
i have claws
they are
silver
i cut at
that which harms me -
me
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
The rednecks didn't see it.
Obviously, many of us did.
The bigots refuse to acknowledge it.
Although we weren't.
Nothing about the redheaded clown fool us.
All his connection seems to be corrupt.
And now they turning color like the rainbows.
Still, the foolishness continues on.
When you defend a communist based country which your money seems to have been built.
But tear down your own agents of the best.
You were only fooling yourself.
Now your lawyer became wise.
He has a family with he mustn't cut his ties.
Your FIXER is a corrupt guy.
Not only him many others falling by the waste side.
Run Trump Run.
The feds are coming, the feds are coming.
The supporters that hated upon the best-qualified woman.
Now trying to defend this fool even more.
And look at his second in command.
He makes no sense.
Standing in the background like a fool too.
Cause the redheaded clown found him a flunky and a fool.
But this CONGRESS that attacked President Obama now facing their own election drama.
We aware now that Obama always stood taller than the clown.
Even those against Hillary must admit they didn't want a woman running the country.
Democrats women are more outspoken.
I can't say it's in their DNA.
But their spouses let them say what they have to say?
Can't say much about this first robotic lady presently in the white house.
We know in some opinions only she seems to have a husband.
Who's a louse?
Run President Run.
We were very aware you were dumb.
Run, run, run but you show can't hide.
A classic Temptations line.
Now, look at others trying to distance themselves from the man.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
willows weep at the doorstep of a ravine
back home, where I grew up,
a long time ago in Michigan
Cardinals and Redheaded Woodpeckers commonplace
Cherry trees
Mulberries
my favorite grew ripe and sweet,
better than cherries, then.
As the valley creeps away in my memory
the magenta berries remain
in my head.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 8:59 PM UTC
I feel it moving within
Not sure what it is yet
My heart flutters then beats harder
The fine hair upon alabaster flesh rises
I pace back and forth across the room
Nothing heard but the thump of my heartbeat in my ear
I don't understand what is going on
With every pace I get edgier
Devilish green eyes sparkle beneath scarlett lashes
Suddenly noise breaks through
Dishes breaking, pans clanking
The yelling overtaking it all
Heart pounds faster as my pace increases
I feel like I might break into a run
Each scream makes me cringe
Fists clench
Looking down blood coats my palms
Realizing my nails broke through the skin
Images flash through my mind
Fire, explosions, screams,
I run from the noise below
Feet hit the stairs faster and faster
My blood feels hot
Skin flushed, film of sweat across my brow
I try the calming exercises
Singing between bursts of pacing again
Deep breaths in slow out
Trying to fight it
Yet the fuel feeds the monster
Redheaded monster as I call it
Parents continue their tirade
They don't care what it does to me
I feel it surging forward
Reaching my inner sanctum
Pinching my thigh hard trying to fight it off
Knowing it is futile to fight
Inhaling a deep breath
It surges through me
Blood boils
A noise escapes parted lips
Guttural, filled with pain, resignation, and pure RAGE!
Hands grasp anything they can
Ripping, pulling, tearing
Kicking, stomping, jumping
Screams fill the room as the rage continues to unleash
Why do they do this?
They know it sets me off
Unglues me
Luckily this room is filled with things that are meant for this
My explosions had come less frequent but more volatile
I knew I had to get control
Right now wasn't going to happen
Rage consumes me
Surging like a tidal wave
When triggered I explode
Just like a nuclear bomb
My arms and legs tire
I am weak from the tirade
Falling to the bed
Cool sheets soothe heated flesh
Heartbeat slows
Breathing grows softer
The tiny hairs settle down
I hear the very faint hint of soothing music
Lids fall softly blanketing glistening green orbs
Moisture dries upon cheeks
Body relaxes as all the fire escapes
Leaving behind a beautiful, sleeping form
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 4:11 AM UTC
It’s nice to have some holiday downtime and not be all go-go-go. I’ve even gotten in some Animal Crossing play. After 40 minutes of picking up weeds, Bianca, one of my villagers, told me she’d heard I was dead.
Later, we’re in Lisa’s living room taking turns playing songs from Spotify.
Lisa just played “Woo”, by Rihanna. When the song ends, fading out, Leeza deadpan said, “That song is pure evil.”
“You guys, I forgot to mention it but that is my energy song, it makes me feel so HOT.” Lisa adds with a chuckle.
“It has an evil vibe,” I admit. “An evil vibe,” Leeza confirms.
“Don’t be judging,” Lisa reminds us.
“Your next,” Lisa said, nodding to Leeza, “What’ve you got for us,” she speculates, “some mental health rock?”
Leeza’s had this girl-punk-rock group called “Vancougar” playing on a loop in her room. At first, I wasn’t enthusiastic but now I think they slay. Her mom’s even gotten on board, dancing “the twist” to “Philadelphia” when it rolls around. Leeza has great taste in music although she leans a bit EMO (emotionally hard core) for me. She makes me feel old by introducing us to all these new bands like “Youngest and only,” “Calling all Captains” and “Beatrice Dear.”
“I’ve got one song to play,” Leeza says, “Paparazzi, by Lady Gaga.”
“I’ve been listening to that song all WEEK!” I gasp, “I love that song, it may be her best - that’s so random,” I finish saying as the song starts.
As Paparazzi ends Lisa says, “That song has major Gwen Stefani vibes.”
“It DOES,” I agree, “It could be “Cool” or “Sweet Escape.”
“Yeah, for sure,” Leeza agreed, “shoutout to No Doubt.”
Leeza says, “I have a conversation topic: What’s something we all acknowledge is cheugy but we still do anyway?”
“Being blonde,” I say, which gets stitches of laughter because it’s true and Lisa and I are.
“That’s true, that’s fair,” redheaded Leeza laughs. “Anyone blonde is dead to me,” which gets her a pillow in the face.
“Ok, I’m going to come for a lot of people,” Lisa says, “but yogurt, yogurt is cheugy.”
Leeza gasps, “You think yogurt.. It’s not cheugy!” she practically yells, “It gives MOM.”
Dec 28, 2022
Dec 28, 2022 at 3:33 PM UTC
five am missed his redheaded friend
but i didn't miss him at all
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 4:45 AM UTC
on nights like this it's
old man Sanders across the hall
struggling with his sterility
and raising his wife's ******* son in silence
to be a man who will one day
manipulate a woman's emotions
in a train station at 4 a.m.
it's too early to be this drunk
yet i am
and
he is too
i can hear him shouting at
himself, his wife, and his half breed redheaded son
at the dinner table,
over something like Blondie in the background
and something about baseball in the morning.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC
my father's name,
down the drain.
my mother's heart,
picked apart.
my old friend,
lost,
no chance to mend.
we cowards
commit our crimes
in circles.
we cowards
are blind, deaf,
yet loud.
his father, his mother,
once second parents
to me,
left sleepless and
ashamed to know
me.
a redheaded girl,
who i never had
a chance to know
let her tears go.
her mother burning,
anger at my
abuse,
deserving.
my old friend confused,
asking himself,
"was it distance that
divided us?"
we cowards,
so used to the
constant grind of our
lives,
never seek to make anew.
we cowards
let it build.
let it fall.
let the remains rust.
let our pride run wild.
let our eyes shut.
let our ears close.
let our hearts go cold.
if i thought i was dead
before,
i'm about to learn what
it really means to disappear.
i feel the judges whispering
condemnation.
i feel the pointing fingers,
the claims of high treason.
this coward is sorry.
but no apology will ever justify,
no eulogy will ever satisfy
your view of the guilty.
this coward is willing.
willing to listen,
willing to feel your pain,
willing to die,
die tonight,
if just one of you saw it
as gain.
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 9:56 PM UTC
i have sandpaper for eyes
you cant see
because im blind
no-one draws near
no-one escapes notice
empty shells of conversations
scattered like spent bullets on a battlefield
useless to stem the tide
so they retreat away from the dull grinding
my eyes are sandpaper
slowly grinding away the walls that contain me
she loads death with care
into the device
she is ***
she is warm redheaded lust
she is life and death loading a spike
beggers bones
and they shuffle off nineteen dollar bills
its twenty dude not a dime less
thoughts and plans are well heeled
till they hit the pavement
all ways said the road sorts the ******** from the true
i see them wince when they meet my gaze
nearsighted apologetic polite criminals
they gather in the lighted
end of the corridor feeling confident
that the darkness would consume them
then from the safety of this
fortress of light the release the details
that should confound you into silence
my eyes are sandpaper
slowly grinding away the borders
that contain me
madness is not their only symptom
a fever breaks loose and sweats in the complexity's
of the wheels within wheels
i cannot bear that this place should be the end
this dry barren place
you cant see because im blind
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 6:16 PM UTC
No doorknobs exist on this floor.
I can't find any outlets.
The belt that lady--I didn't mean to
disappoint--bought me is coiled,
surrounded by Tupperware walls.
A nurse checked herself in. No
affect; asking for charge; reset.
I'm twenty and letting down my dad.
My belt used to live at JC Penny
and has navy-outlined bass on it.
One of the counselors is black,
from Africa, was adopted, moved
here to be raised by two JP Morgan
lifers, played collegiate soccer, married,
got pregnant, lost the boy--which he said
he had a feeling it would have been.
So, he can relate.
No doorknobs exist on this floor.
I am twenty and this exists in the past.
Wheeling in due to an inability to walk
--totally her brain's fault; a real former-
controllable, current-uncontrollable thing
that her mind pulled on her, on account
from the cold, Vaseline touch of a relative
--this redheaded girl pretends to smile
before apologizing for pretending to smile.
Our black counselor, former soccer player
and father says to not apologize and that
we are all pretending, all the time, even
when we don't think we are.
I find this strangely comforting.
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 3:09 AM UTC
Taming of the Jew
Zedekiah was a wild young boy
who swore he would never settle down
always in trouble with his elders
he had been banned from the local town
the Rabbi chastised him constantly
his father threatened him with harm
out of pure ornery spite
he had a tattoo of Goliath put on his arm
picking fights and raising hell
no one knew what to do
how to take the fight out of him
but not the spirit within his soul too
then on his 16th birthday
a redheaded princess appeared
he caught her eye and she smiled his way
his heart raced too hard he feared
she was so beautiful he thought
she must be an angel from above
she said her name was Rebecca
and he instantly fell in love
she had heard about him she said
and all of his devious ways
if he had any serious interest in her
there would have to be changes made
as the months and the years swept by
everyday he loved her more
she captured his heart beyond belief
then came the knock on her door
he came to ask for her hand he said
he begged her to be his bride
he could no longer stand alone
his love was bursting inside
she smiled and kissed him oh so softly
and yes was her answer she swore
this wild young man had finally been tamed
he promised his heart forever more
Gomer LePoet...
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC
childhood memories feel like rust
crumbling in my fingers and leaving their orange stains
as i skip over the horrific teenaged years
that my little sister
remembers as her childhood.
i resent her for having a bad childhood.
i say that our childhood was good, was great
with two loving parents
in a big house in the country
with long grass and animals to hold.
but her childhood was a falling down home
with seeping walls and crying mothers and a screaming father
stuck in a house that imprisoned all of us in seclusion
and an older redheaded sister
who maintained control in her life
run by parents who no longer saw reason or justice
by treating her little redheaded sister
like trash.
i forget that her childhood was not mine
i forget that the things she remembers were awful
that daddy did scream and shove
that mommy did cry and quake and throw and push and smash and shove and scream and rip
in the middle of the night
while she slept
and i wandered
the lonely caverns of my book-filled room
where i hid with my fantastical friends
who shielded me from the screams
in the middle of the night
that your deaf ears
missed
i am sorry for undermining the truth of your childhood
i forget that we are different
i forget what changed
i forget the hidden, resentful monster that overtook our parents
and bled down into their children
but you,
you remember
it was the only thing you knew
i remember the good,
you remember
the screams
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
welcome to Earth on which we live,
why here? no one can say.
one thing is certain 'bout this planet's burdens;
they never will ever go away.
why not on Mercury? Neighbor the sun?
it's too close, the heat is unreal.
its surface is hot, a place we go not,
for we are too fragile to heal.
how about Venus, our sisterly planet?
she's gross and unhealthy too.
her surface corroded and it's duly noted
that this one will just never do.
we could try Mars, our redheaded friend
but alas! that simply won't work.
too much pollution for any solution
we'd most likely just end up hurt.
what say Jupiter that big cloudy mess?
good luck you dreamer and fool.
impossible dagnabbit! don't try to inhabit
for us that place is too cruel.
now you say Saturn, the world of infinity
well infinite is just a bad joke.
the rings may be nice, but take my advice,
there's too great a chance we'd all choke.
then perhaps Neptune, one more chance at home
your hopes once again are kaput.
she's not only distant, but far too resistant
to ever once let us set foot.
now our last chance Pluto, the farthest
but she's been sadly forgotten.
why dream of this? she's clearly not missed
by now she's dead and rotten.
my friends you have realized the greatest of truths
that anywhere else we'd be dead.
our life here on Earth is more than it's worth
as we dwell on our cosmic homestead.
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
we started the way we ended
you were still dating someone
when you slept with me
I don’t know if anyone knew that
or would believe me
but I remember the afternoon before your birthday
and that white dress you still wear
I slept with another young, redheaded girl
I didn’t have a reason why
but I remember breaking up with you
the next evening
watching you cry,
I was ashamed, and ******
don’t act so adult, you might miss out
on being a fool like me
the yellow sign had crime written on it
and I let it go, trying to its memories
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
Dawn coughs its way to noon,
the sun bears down
blistering my skin,
asking questions,
highlighting each flaw--
I take one last drag
from one last cigarette,
put out the flaming tip
on an ant hill--
Joshua J. Hutton, the Destroyer--
a sizzle,
a scramble,
where do we go from here?
I call my redheaded love,
ask her to spend the afternoon
listening to me read old books
full of filthy poetry,
and as she sighs,
I slit her throat to see what's inside--
a candy apple coated fever dream
of future her and me,
a hatred of my mane,
and a longing for the far corner of everything--
I stitch her milky neck,
kiss her ear,
rub her shoulders with my
rotting hands,
and tell her
purgatory just got easier,
knowing we piece
with blood
and beauty,
holy men rejoice,
****** get jubilant,
this smoldering mess
connects.
May 1, 2011
May 1, 2011 at 9:28 PM UTC
I wanna fall in love with someone who plays
the blues like floss between his toes
baked under the sun, steps away from a lake
we called a sea anyway. We sat
their four days, the sand packed under
our breathing vertebrate
the sun never set; only dripped, dipped
its golden fingertips into pleased, green ripples.
He'd watch with me, his rolled up jeans,
pressed pink cheeks blowing against
that harmonica, fingers white, pressed.
I rest on my hands on wet sand, tiny grains
of sunny diamonds. I sang out
to the redheaded halcyon --
to his slender beak:
pierce my gentle heart!
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
his crown is nothing more
than a head of messy brown hair he obsesses over
and his throne is just a desk that is always right next to my own
or the driver's seat of a silver honda civic, depending on the time of day
i twist words for him in every single waking moment
with pen in the margins of my philosophy notebook,
with the little voice in my head in the crevices of my mind,
and with my fingers on all my favorite spots of his skin.
i stand at his side, day by day,
simply observing, taking note, remembering the words and the gestures and the glances
so that future generations will recall the story
of his gloriously troubled beginnings
this king, this boy that you all write off as a pretender,
a usurper
he does rule
one kingdom
one tiny, minuscule, banal, five-foot-tall-redheaded kingdom
me
and one day my king will rise
he will rise, he will conquer, and we will be victorious
he will lead this kingdom that adores him so
and i will follow him into the war
that will either break us or entwine us
because i know that his majesty won't let
his kingdom fall
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC