"remy" poems
In the annals of New York City
An amazing hero is acclaimed,
Known as "The man in the red bandana"
Welles Remy Crowther was his name.
Born in Nineteen seventy seven,
This New Yorker, born and bred,
Could have escaped death's destruction,
But chose to rescue folks instead.
All his life he cared for people,
Loved his family, kept them dear,
But on that day of 9/11
His higher purpose became clear.
An Honor Student, Lacrosse player,
Former fire fighter, too,
When explosions rocked the building,
Welles knew what he must do.
Rescuing with calm authority,
Directing people toward the doors,
He found a woman so disabled
He carried her to the 61st floor.
In the end, before death took him,
Twelve people were brought out, saved.
No one knows where Welles is buried
In his 9/11 grave.
Later, when his mother told
Of the red bandana Welles had,
The survivors saw his picture,
And knew Welles was the brave lad.
Only 26 years old,
Welles Crowther manned up in strife,
That young man is New York's hero...
... for twelve gave HIS VERY LIFE.
Soul Survivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 11, 2014
13th anniversary of 9/11
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
My sisters got to open up their eyes
Be wise and Realize who you laying with
Just don't give out the prize
If he ain't winning it
Blame the men but you
Knew he wasn't ****
When you layed with him
So now you got a baby by him
You was with him
To get a prize
Trying to live
How others fantasize
Second to everyone
You only make em' ***
You thought you was the lucky 1
Don't get caught up in
One night of fun
I mean what do
You expect you show ya self
No respect
Twerking for the gram
That **** don't get you a check
Let me put you In check
You worth more than any
Gold around a ***** neck
I'm telling you this cause I care
I see behind the remy hair
Take off that contour
You was pretty before
Don't sell your self short
Your worth so much more
-Lynn Legend
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
At times I sit
Back and relax
from the daily disappointment
of another failed attempt
to make a milli
out of 2 greenbacks
and a shiny penny
so money i lack
due to employers
not callin a brotha back
"dont worry Wayne"
"i dont care about that"
"im really feelin you"
"i got yo back"
her name was Elaine
beautiful black woman
skinned the finest brown
kept my head off the ground
facing up to the sky
with all the confidence
of a grown *** man
till the week my luck
ran out like
our well ran dry
i was victim of nonsence
moms got word that
i smashed in the backseat
snatched back the keys
havent seen ol' girl since
lookin up to ask
what more can happen
i recieve a call
that put me on my ***
my one thang from
around the way
was seen at the mall
hugged up wit women
i put the phone down
cause im mad as hell
turned to the liquor
tilted the bottle
maybe i can find
that hidden message
pour up the brown
so i can sip
till i cant tell
this ********
aint just in my mind
Courvoisier or Hennessy
Remy Martin too
when i find my
next one thang
the brown got my back
when im in the groove
kissing the lips
of that beautiful child
born of kings and queens
of kingdoms not crack
workin a 9 to 5
not depending on
the next coke move
relieving her stress
while breaking that back
blast off at 9
cause her love
might taste so divine
scratch me up
then we goin till 5
i know i wont
be that 60 second man
and let her down
cause the brown got my back
i figured out my problem
just gotta lay that
brown **** down
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 4:37 AM UTC
I still don't know what poem to write!
Write about the black man's plight?
Nah, oversaturated and a little too light.
So, ... We'll scratch that.
After this maybe someone will match that.
But seriously, maybe about me.
But I'm not free or open
And you don't wanna hear about how
I'm 24 years old and spent the last 12 smokin'
Ya probably think I'm joking.
But seriously,
Some would call this this writer's block.
Then what am I doing up here
Just wasting my 15 seconds of fame
Before I leave ashamed
Drowning my pain in a bottle
Of someone else's Success?
So who will it be tonight?
Jack, Remy or Jimmy?
But before I go
Do me a favor
Please applaud.
So I don't slump into a depression,
upon realizing my pocket's recession
So a flew claps can sway my pain
So please do me that favor
And don't let me leave ashamed!
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
"Which are You?
Those who go to bed early
Look forward to tomorrow
Those who dread the coming day
Stay up until they can see the sun
Just to make sure they'll make it." -Sara K
To Sarah k which are you?
I'm the one who wishes to sleep early looking forward for the day.
But as the night gets older I start dreading for tomorrow.
At 10 pm is two nyquil with water.
From 11 to 12 is dark liquor.
Hennessy or Remy hoping that'll do the trick
I just want to sleep until God calls me.
1230 hits I'm still wide awake
So I crush and roll and my eyes blood clot
By 1am my body is done but my mind still racing.
I take a percocet feeling if I numb the body just enough I can numb the brain and lay to rest
I don't want to see tomorrow anymore
I don't want the to sun rise.
Is winter time in NY so light has yet to hit the horizon
2,3,4, I toss, I turn
Turmoil in my train of thoughts
As if I was walking through the river of sorrows
At 5 I finally close my eyes
630 finally arrives
My window is perfectly aligned with the sun
While the rays go through my shades
And rest upon my eyes
I awake maybe wishing I would be laid to rest
Chilly morning and my day begins
Xanax for my anxiety and depression
Adderall to keep me focus and awake
Red bull for breakfast and I'm on my way.
I am the one that whish he sleeps but is always wide awake writing with blood as if it was ink.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
"Come on page, where do the words fit?"
In the puzzle that is my brain, i ask as at
The table i sit
My hairs have split, like cheap ****** Remy
But then again maybe my idea bulb isn't lit.
"Come along pen, why can't you write?"
We've been up with this piece since last night
I ask myself again, this is really starting to frighten me, i know i might be pressuring myself too much,
But that's where the best moments come from, in the clutch.
"Come on heart, where's your spark? You usually flutter in the act of creating art!"
But alas no wings flapping, and no adrenaline rushing like a spotted chameleon
Just stone faced cynicism like a gremlin
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 11:25 PM UTC
We’re walking through magnetic fields.
We approach the stop sign yield.
How lovely someone’s name
“WC Field”
Bondman what a con man.
Going West “May I May West” I’m a fan.
What names do we like the best?
Rosetta, she keeps smiles and
gets wet-a his eyes tell her
he’s in the sunset to get her
Someone to bond “At-Last”
The different era desperate housewife.
One is Rosetta meets one of her friends
Violet-ta what drama Ra Rata
Frank Sinatra says well that’s life.
Holding two names eyes of a magnet
in one hand.Powerful love garnet
God’s name expressed love command
So sacred in a new land.
Rosetta please get your friend.
He addresses her as a poinsettia.
Garlands Of Judy extend.
The poinsettia his finger points
until Emma visits hum?
What is she up too?
She is quite the dilemma give her the evil eye.
The violin sounds Heather lilac meets Violet-ta.
Beatles play with “Sweet Loretta.”
Sipping Camilla Cafe I want to hold your hand.
She marries her best man best-spilled the margarita.
How’s Rebecca organically has grown to Omega?
Movie star suspenseful Marx Garbo so Groucho.
What a pain Mr. Panetta eating his
words Mucho gracias
Shark -fin soup Chinese delicacy.
He bite’s the bruschetta his ballot Presidency.
How he expressed A secret Emma the Emmy
Got caught in a big Dilemma with Remy
The wrong ***** of a vendetta
Smell the coffee wake up you betta or else?
That computer mouse true or false.
Billy Joel stranger met his counterfeiter
Going Uptown girl sings on his piano expressed A
comment to kiss her.
But you’re a stranger?
Rumors with leaks of plumber’s Raven birds.
Don’t flood my words.
A perfect rose how he gave it to Rosetta.
We need more names what about Tatiana.
I saw her dancing at the “Copacabana Wella.”
A-Men that’s how I met Rosetta.
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
She tussled and fought,
squirmed and wiggled,
the ends of her hairs
oh how they tickled.
She smelled of sugar and spice
like purple haze,
remy martin,
and bubblicious ,
the sins of life...
Everything nice.
Her lips drove me crazy
I could smell the cherry
dying to be burst,
I'm going to save this one
as she fights
I squeeze,
As she bites
I likes,
A woman...
I found a woman
Cuz she won't
just give it up....
How to keep her safe????
thats gonna be hard to explain,
I can see it in her face......
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 8:34 AM UTC
I feel my wings have broken in your hands
I feel the words unspoken inside
And, they pull you under
And, I will give you anything you want, oh
You are all I wanted
All my dreams are fallen down
Crawlin' around and around and around
Somebody save me
Let your warm hands break right through it
Somebody save me
I don't care how you do it, just stay, stay
C'mon, I've been waiting for you
I see the world has folded in your heart
I feel the waves crash down inside
And, they pull me under
I would give you anything you want, oh
You are all I wanted
All my dreams have fallen down
Crawlin' around and around and around...
Somebody save me
Let your warm hands break right through it
Somebody save me
I don't care how you do it, just stay, stay
C'mon, I've been waiting for you
All my dreams are on the ground
Crawlin' around and around and around...
Somebody save me
Let your warm hands break right through
Somebody save me
I don't care how you do it just stay (stay with me)
I made this whole world shine for you
Just stay, stay
C'mon, I'm still waiting for you
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 9:18 PM UTC
Do not tell me
It does not exist
Do not dare me
To cease
To dream
I have seen Paradise
From above
Now right before my eyes
I fall in love
A kind of blue
That is unreal
A moment so pure
Only happy hearts can feel
Leaving footprints
In the sand
I deem
We are one with the sun
Dear Paradise
That is ours
Dear Muriel and Remy
That made it ours
We leave
But not unchanged
Paradise Island
On your shores,
Our love for you
Forevermore remains.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 5:50 AM UTC
Paris, earlier today. It’s a (vaccinated) summer family reunion and I’m catching up with relatives I haven’t seen for AGES. Like my impeccably dressed (three piece suit on a warm, un-air-conditioned, Saturday) 83 year old great uncle.
We cheek kiss
“STILL searching for love, Uncle Remy?”
“Forget love. My dear, I’m an old, self-absorbed narcissist. What I look for is someone young and frivolous whose most complicated desire is fun - specifically fun that can be bought - that’s an important distinction.”
I gasp and pose.
“You’re looking for MEEEE!,” I squeal.
“Oh, if I needed a spoiled, over-serious, temperamental, unappeasable rich girl - I’d think of you.”
“You GET me!,” I beam with pride*
Jul 24, 2021
Jul 24, 2021 at 2:46 PM UTC
the emptiness that dawns on me
images conjured in my
mind
only to have left me blind
i thought i could suffice
such an hour
but that hour turns into days
and those days...
all those days for you to have stayed away.
long fights
empty nights
only to leave the Devil
to shine his light of fire
He leads me down
the realm of Hell
controlling my soul
holding me whole
the rope intertwined between my fingertips
i desperately
hopelessly and
foolishly
try to stand on my own two feet
but sometimes i feel that
the only thing it sound intertwine
is my
neck.
shots of sake
transfer to
shots of bleach
in order to drown the emotions
of being so bleak
'open your mouth'
He whispers
'pain will no longer exist here'
He smirks.
Jack Daniels
Richard Hennessy
Remy Martin
'they're your friends
baby girl,
they'll love you when no one else will'
He taunts.
Vyvanse
Oxy
Klonpin
Xannies
'they all taste the same,
its like candy'
He promises
Blow
Fantasia
Hell Dust
'Its a gift from Earth,
just trust me'
He demands.
He
my savior
and I
the distressed
He
my master
and I
the slave
He
still Satan
and I
in satin
00:59
one minute to be saved
they tell me,
save yourself or
remain unsaved
in the lonely hour
where there is just
myself
and voided love
I declared
not to be saved
01:00
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 5:00 PM UTC
On a whim one day we took the car
And drove for miles and miles, quite far
To visit a place, a sanctuary
For cats and dogs and all things hairy
All three of us without a plan
Had never been best friend as man only can
We had no clue when disembarking of all the curs
Alone there skulking and marking
The couple who had come on holiday
Decided to stay when confronted by strays
And in their house they were inundated
With bowls and beds and little bodies mutilated
In one cage a ball of fur hid and retreated
Into the shadows and disappeared
I failed to notice this little hound
Instead shed tears for all around
With anxious steps from Helena and Remy
We were led to a cage much bigger and roomy
Where inside seemed to hide a huge Bear
Who smiled and sniggered and appeared not to care
This one we took out for a walk
But before that we asked who could not talk
And from the cage the most pitiful thing
With one broken leg and fear heartbreaking
We bundled them both out that day
And bathed and fed and loved them forever
And still today
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 6:48 AM UTC
When I found you on the rooftop
Crumbling at the knees,
You confessed to me the air
Made it hard to breathe.
You felt complacent
But knew you had somewhere you had to be,
Just getting harder to leave.
We found some solace
In the undergrounds of Charm City.
You said “These basement shows relieve the angst inside of me.”
I said “It’s gonna get better, love, just wait and see.”
It’s getting hard to believe.
Wandering hearts.
We were lost in the Art Space, the soul of the city.
Looking for answers
All we found were strangers and bands bonding over riffs.
She’s still waiting for the air to be breathable again.
There we were, sardine packed,
Shouting out for the band.
Vibes of Old Bay Punk echoed off the walls.
Jimmy’s worried the neighbors might call a noise complaint.
Tommy’s laughing as he turns up the stereo.
After the show
We stumbled out of the basement
Off balanced and content.
Smelling like sweat and Natty Boh.
The high wore off and we were back to where we began,
Wandering the streets with shattered lungs and dreams.
On Charm City rooftops
You broke down all around me
Along with the railings in the basement of Art Space.
By one or two we wandered into the Ale House.
We were just in time before they had last call.
Somewhere on Pratt street
We ran into Remy.
He was looking for Megan and a taco truck.
Found our way, unwinding on a bench by the harbor.
I swear there was magic in your midnight eyes.
You held my hand, and breathed a bit lighter.
The air is not so bad...
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
we live behind palace walls
“I’m in love,” I said, sighing into the fall-like, Paris afternoon, “I have to admit it.”
My 85 year old uncle Remy, gently stirring a pitcher of American martini he was conjuring, said, “You should marry an insignificant lawyer - if you’re going to have a cross-class love affair.”
Uncle Remy was a lawyer, of sorts, once.
“I think you’re leading the witness,” I said, looking down at my shoes.
“I’m in love with my Havaianas,” I clarified - my new, white, square-toed flip-flops.
“Besides, no one thinks in terms of class any more - and Peter and I are NOT an asymmetrical match or relationship or whatever.”
But it got me thinking. Half, or more, of what Uncle Remy says is politically incorrect. And I don’t judge him harshly..
I wrote, last week, about a guy who
(gasp) told me he found me attractive
like it was some crisis.
Hadn’t I schemed to get with Peter? (my bf).
And hadn’t he admitted that he’d schemed to get with me?
Was I ready to diagnose this guy as a walking red flag
- for a gentle admission of interest?
Because he's a big, intimidating guy?
What are the small, social rituals
we’re allowed to use - to signal desire?
Sure, buying someone a drink at a bar
- but what else? It’s a Catch-22.
Must every comment face the court of
public opinion, verbal consent protocols,
uni regulations and the behavior authorities?
Should we ban serendipity and spontaneity too?
Monday morning came and I didn’t ask to change seats
I moved my pencil back - a little.
He actually could use a bit more room than me.
I smiled a little, asked him about his weekend,
there’s no use in being unfriendly.
His name is Jacques (Jack).
.
.
Songs for this:
So Sorry by Lola Young [E]
The Hardest Part by Olivia Dean
Sep 22, 2025
Sep 22, 2025 at 5:13 PM UTC
The sharpened mind - with care - takes aim
- at university, we play ruthless games.
Where pencils scratch, their graphite gray,
and scholarly answers take the day.
I've finished midterms!
It was like one of those TV shows, ‘survivor’ or something.
Enzyme kinetics, metabolic pathways, protein structures and functions be ****** - no, be double ******
I’d been working problems raw in dreams, waking up tired.
Sunday, I was so stressed I'd felt calm, like I’d accepted my fate.
I can tell you that now - now that I survived.
“I was strazzled but controlled - there's a difference in how
I struggle internally - and what I let show.” I told Leong.
“Is that why you were yelling at everyone?” she replied.
“Now that midterms are over, I feel luminary,” I informed Leong, “am I glowing?”
She looked up and said, “No.” Communists aren’t sentimental.
Of course I meant luminary in both achievement and radiance.
My Uncle Remy used to tell me:
“Little one, don’t worry about being a failure,
that’s your parent’s job.”
I Love you Uncle Remy.
Mar 5, 2024
Mar 5, 2024 at 2:09 PM UTC
*The madness roars inside me once more
like a ghost hiding behind the door.
I am in the Asylum at Saint Remy again
A prisoner put there by my raging brain
The nights are the worst screams of pain
manifested in the minds of the insane.
I have to paint to set my mind free
To let the madness flow out of me
from the tip of my brush In vivid hue.
I see the color of violet blue
Inside my brain in my dreams
beautiful blues in floral schemes.
In the small garden area outside my room
I see a group of iris in full bloom
I search for blue in a shaft of sunlight
I see my vision It is a group of irises
on the pathway this scene is right
The picture forms inside my head
The hues of blue will ease my dread
The bright orange marigolds cheer away my fears
Catching dewdrops reflections like golden tears
The glow of the iris deep cobalt hues
Pointed and perfect, satisfying needs of blues
Lost in my transcription my madness fades
I think this painting has beautiful shades
The only sanity I can find in here
In this turmoil I am thinking clear
It is finished now for all to see
People are asking this of me
Why there is a single white iris all alone
in all the violet ones just white as stone.
They cant understand it but I can
It is different yet alike all the others,
and so lonely just as I am*
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
i desire to reside
in Van Gogh's 'The Starry Night'
amid swirls of sapphire blues
timeless at moonrise, amber lights
wind warps the firmament
- magnificently expressive twilight
as dawn seeps in whirling, unforseen-
Saint Remy's asylum view; in sight.
silent village, cerulean nocturne
whispering melancholy -
painting, bohemian.
Aug 22, 2021
Aug 22, 2021 at 2:03 PM UTC
And Remy were supposed to have a life together.
Lucy is now with Heather,
Remy could be doing better.
Lucy and Heather fall too deep,
Remy is going to fall asleep.
Lucy realizes her mistake,
For Remy, it’s too late.
Oct 30, 2021
Oct 30, 2021 at 10:36 AM UTC
Boy, you’re so fine
You got me in your lane
You’re about to make me faint
The way your game is set up
I know you’re what I want
My heart is locked in
Tell me when I can hit you up
So I can talk about my feelings for you
Boy, let me in
Take me to your crib
I just wanna be deep
And sip Remy
Feel your energy
With the lampshades on
With our phones turned off
With the window curtains open
So we can watch the stars
And share all the things
That we have in common
Apr 21, 2021
Apr 21, 2021 at 4:29 PM UTC
a little mouse (remy)
a koala
a troll doll
and wicked pretty
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 11:52 PM UTC