"rinks" poems
in the hospitals and jails
it's the worst
in madhouses
it's the worst
in penthouses
it's the worst
in skid row flophouses
it's the worst
at poetry readings
at rock concerts
at benefits for the disabled
it's the worst
at funerals
at weddings
it's the worst
at parades
at skating rinks
at ****** ******
it's the worst
at midnight
at 3 a.m.
at 5:45 p.m.
it's the worst
falling through the sky
firing squads
that's the best
thinking of India
looking at popcorn stands
watching the bull get the matador
that's the best
boxed lightbulbs
an old dog scratching
peanuts in a celluloid bag
that's the best
spraying roaches
a clean pair of stockings
natural guts defeating natural talent
that's the best
in front of firing squads
throwing crusts to seagulls
slicing tomatoes
that's the best
rugs with cigarette burns
cracks in sidewalks
waitresses still sane
that's the best
my hands dead
my heart dead
silence
adagio of rocks
the world ablaze
that's the best
for me.
13.8k
It had to be a yes
It coulda been a sure
There ain't no way to know why don't you go and ask the *****
I'll blame it on the Drinks
no matter what you thinks
**** it up to having fun outside of roller rinks.
Blame it on my Dad
add up all he had
Never had the time talk but yo he wasn't Bad.
But Don't blame it on the ra rah rah raw ape Culture!
Blame it on the hips
the rubbing and the dips
**** a rubber neways it woulda ****** ripped
I asked that ***** twice
don't I sound nice
Check my stats wow Now you know she wanna slice
Hey Hey it wasn't me, It's spaghetti strapped tees
skirt above the knees
my eyes are steady sayin please
I can't control my blink
they way you dress in pink
I'm the best to women no matter what they ****** think
But Don't blame it on the Rap ra ra raw ape Culture!
I saw you from a far
you walked up to the bar
It must have been a sign from god so now your in my car
Of course you are a tease
there's no way that I could leave
A damsel in distress in need of what I gotta see
No one believes that I
could
ever be apart
of
something had to make me
act that way
(YOU)
ain't me
It Won't happen again
boo
believe me cause
I need too
hold on to my status
as the baddest
of the good dudes
So I'll Blame it on the Dress
Girl I won't confess
Blame it on my Name
that got you feeling all that shame
or you can Blame it on the Ra Rah rah Raw ape Culture.
Blame it on the Ra rah Rah raw ape **** Culture.
Blame it on the Drinks
forgetting what you think
Blame it on the Money
cause we all could use some Honey,
Blame it on the Ra Rah rah Raw Ape **** Culture
Blame it on the ra Rah ha ha ha Raw ape Culture!
Soon You'll be a wake
have time to contemplate
No matter what you do
they'll favor me before you
Say whats on your mind
Sell your rhyme to Time
Manufacture a movement
hashtag a catchy tag line
I objectify ya body cause I'm picking up the tab
calling you a goddess but I'll never call a cab
Tell'n me ya problems my shoulder is your tissue
would it make it better If I just got with you
the scratches on ya body are old bf issues
Even Judge and Jury will straight up diss you
So you can Blame it on my Dad
The one I never had
Blame on the rain
*** you faking just for fame
You can
Blame it on the Ra ra rah Raw ape **** Culture
Blame it on the Ra ha ha ha ha **** Culture.
I'm saying what you want
You didn't look that drunk
I make you feel good bout your body
Call me Trump
My hands are all up on you
but you didn't run so I got you
and
I'll blame it on the Stress
the money and success
I'll blame it on the way you looked
standing by my desk
So Blame it on the Ra Rah Rah Raw ape **** Culture
Blame it on the Ra ha Rah Ha ha Haha **** Culture....
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
This winter, I find myself raw,
chapped and tender like the skin
of my over-chewed bottom lip.
My mouth is always the one
that takes the most damage.
I catch myself on my front two teeth,
both with cracks on the side
from where my face kissed
the floors of roller skating rinks
and the frame of my grandparents' bed.
The help me bite my tongue
in moments of assurance
and bite my lip
when I falter under the weight
of my own name.
I am not a carnivore, nor someone
who wants to take you in,
and scrape the meat from your bones.
I'm a woman, with pink gums
and a sharp tongue that stabs me
in the roof of my mouth
and hurts me more than any of the hands
that have ever struck my face.
It's not because I'm weak or submissive,
I'm callow still,
constantly falling in love with
every person I touch,
not yet cultivated enough
to give them the words
I once promised.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
- 6 happy songs
1. Oui hear
What we appear
What, we appear?
What
Where
Capturing the in
The expressable in it
Capped in it
In
Into
Together to gather
To Get Her - To Gat Her
Two Gets-together
Gether
Glather
Troubling isn't it
Very troubling
Trouble some
Some troubles in ning
Inklings
Inner rings
Der Rinks
Der
2. Vert
Over therr
Overt therr
Knew a woman who was livin
Oh Vert Herr!
Oh Vert Herr!
Over therr
Err a woman who is livin
Oh Vert therr!
Err
Err
3. Bleu
A cloud farmer
I eye the sky
Eye the sky
Eye the sky
A cloud farmer
I eye the skye
Eye the sky
Wide
4. Blanc
Here is the blank
The blanking blank
The blanking blank
The blanking blank
Here is the blank
The blanking blank
The blanking blanking blank
Blank
5. Rouge
They come to me in ones and twos
Ones and twos
Ones and twos
They come to me in
Ones and twos
Ones and twos it's
True
6. Noir
Brush away noir noir
Brush away noir
Brush away noir noir
Noir noir no
More No more
Noir noir no
Moe
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 4:06 AM UTC
BABY vamps, is it harder work than it used to be?
Are the new soda parlors worse than the old time saloons?
Baby vamps, do you have jobs in the day time or is this all you do? do you come out only at night?
In the winter at the skating rinks, in the summer at the roller coaster parks,
Wherever figure eights are carved, by skates in winter, by roller coasters in summer,
Wherever the whirligigs are going and chicken spanish and hot dog are sold,
There you come, giggling baby vamp, there you come with your blue baby eyes, saying:
Take me along.
1.6k
I have heard in far of places, where evil men do dwell
That in this place, there is no light in shadows spell
They are filled with hate and ordained, to walk the path alone
Their tears are dry, they cannot cry and hearts are made of stone
The heart of a man is stonier than where love refuses to grow
Where time is a word of fate, exchanging tears for blood to flow
Carnage in destructions belly, monsters of burden take to air
With gnashing teeth and jagged claws, you cry out in despair
To be trapped within a web of lies, hope that depletes your soul
They grin with fangs of blood and gore and discern no self control
Your children’s smiles feed the gluttony, of love’s casual distain
Wicked unimagined pain; brief satisfaction is what they gain
So out to hunt again, their belly’s worn from gravel and slither
They drain the world of faith, while the sun commences to wither
Angels grounded devoid of flight; heats of hell seared their wings
The birds of night taken flight, from darkness abyss as banshee sings
People are blinded by phantoms smoke, cursed as walking dead
They walk with sin right next to them, on streets all paved in red
Bones of victims piled in heaps; while hunting vultures circle round
Ghosts of martyred blameless souls concealed within the ground
The earth struggles to purge itself of human infestation
Quakes, storms and inferno’s flames since dawn of mans creation
The devil strides, with jokers grin and gloats sincere admiration
Knowing the ****** hearts in evil men is beyond all restoration
The world is sick, no cure in sight we breed like pox and boils
Contamination of humanity rinks the fleshy earth rots and spoils
The ocean leaps and bounds trying to soothingly lick the sores
This far off place where evil men dwell finally washed up on our shores
Jan 19, 2011
Jan 19, 2011 at 12:32 PM UTC
It’s so miniscule—
this interval, this growing up
You fool yourself
into believing
it won’t ever end,
as if you could turn it back
to the beginning
like a radio dial
and let that hot-pink rapture
pour over you
again and always
but eventually it comes
to a close
and as I look back on my own
I feel like digging it a grave,
giving it a proper ceremony
Here Lies a Brief Forever
the epitaph would say
Here lies unearthly hardship
my hands gripping that first notebook
a screen door thrown open
dresses I wore and grew out of
wildflowers picked too soon
a head scribbled dark with sadness
glitter and one-sided love
bathrooms I wept in
swooping optimism
woods astir with light
heartsick
surreal courage
evolution
expansion
people who didn’t understand and
people who did
moon dancing
the carpet where I spilled English Breakfast
the road where I slashed
my knee open
and blood flew everywhere
breakdowns
the rush of space between
vocals and bass drop
snowflakes blinked away
my father gone
my mother remaining
credit-rolling darkness and a girl
hair I wanted straight until
I didn’t
stars burning and seething
ice rinks
aloneness and unity and
aching forward motion
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
Slow burning and thick is the smoke in my lungs.
A death wish in the end,
a refreshment of poison that enters my bloodstream.
Youth of less than 30, 20, and even 18;
all of us are just searching for happiness and enjoyment in life,
since everything is just so ******
Ignorance is truly bliss.
Yet my generation is acquiring negative knowledge so quickly.
All of us grew up too fast to enjoy our youths in an uncorrupted way.
Our innocence has been robbed by those older than us.
Our happy places aren't the movies, dances, or skate rinks;
they're bottles of liquid poison and capsules full of assorted chemicals which induce false emotions for a few hours.
To be ignorant and clueless is to be truly happy.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
She is like the colour Red,
the colour of a beating heart as it is donated from a loved one to their partner, she is the colour of her perfect blush
she is perfect beautiful,
dangerous,
entrancing,
marvellous,
wonderful.
She's my only one.
She is like snow,
fresh snow, so perfect and amazing,
she makes my eyes light up and smile,
she is beautifully perfect,
and brings happiness to everyone,
she is the picturesque villages that one can fall in love with again and again every day. She is the frozen lakes that provide the childhood ice rinks where children play and dance, safe and happy.
She is...
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 1:05 PM UTC
When snow starts falling in Canada We know winter games shall begin.
Do we just sit around fireplaces?
No, that would be a sin. Snowball fights daily in our schoolyards,
Till the bell calls them in. Rosie red cheeks on children,
Mittens with scarf’s and hats, Snowmen in every front yard,
Put away are the bats. Indoors a haven for cats.
Ski’s out and waxed, Skates sharp as knives,
Skating rinks are full Of children,
husband, wives. Tobogganing so exiting,
Curling extremely fun, Hockey,
number one. Cold feet, Hot chocolate.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 8:26 AM UTC
I'll get so **** drunk on senseless time
I'll get drunk on all the crime
Hiding bottles in drawers and desks
Smoking underneath stairs to get rid of pesks
Dealing in parks and day-cares
Shooting guns in pairs
Dried-up tears
And dead years
Drugs laced around drinks
Falling down in skating rinks
Broken skin, hoping to numb the pain
Everyone talks while thoughts go down the drain
Taking forever to let it out
Living forever in this drought
Making drugs in someone else's backyard
Abusing children while praying hard
Gambling high while money is low
Crushing heads just to make a show
Molding young minds just to get cash
Taking happiness and turning it all to ash.
But we live like it's alright
Because soon everything is going to die....
Alcohol take the pain of the tears away
Tears take away all the bad days
Drunken nights full of unnecessary tears
Oh my, oh my. oh my.
Maybe I will get drunk again...
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
time shrinks
she thinks
like ice in rinks
and overflows the sinks
she blinks
seeing shades of pinks
they're links
living on the brinks
a jinx
[she] turns into a minx
and drinks
unlinks
empties out the sinks
and shrinks
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 12:27 PM UTC
It’s refreshing to see a breath of fresh air
Out here in this desolate world.
I find it harder and harder to breathe this pollution,
I don’t even have asthma and I’m under attack.
The lights are turned low and I’m starting to feel
All that pressure that movies have branded me with
And I don’t know which girl I should be dancing with
So I never did.
As the disco ball turns, sending squares of light
Over everyones faces, I feel a change.
Something oddly barometric is sending waves into my head,
This doesn’t happen often, it’s so peculiar
That the moment you walk in the doors, your friends
And your loved ones scream for more of your laugh and your
Voice and that smile that cures all diseases and
Gently squeezes and pleases all newcomers, old friends, and
All in between.
Red lipstick parts, shows a pearly white gleam,
My stomach is ready to burst at the seams,
She was made for the 20’s, stuck in 2013,
Finishing sentences, dinners, and drinks,
Movies and beach nights and ice skating rinks.
I’d do anything and everything just to simply
Hold your hand, if only for a minute.
A minute can feel like forever in the right hands.
So why don’t you lend me your right hand,
I’ll guide us both somewhere, nowhere, anywhere,
The where that no one dares to go, the where that
No ordinary people know, the where where all the pretty flowers grow
And I’d pick them all for you.
I’ve always just floated through life, and I passed up
Great memories as I did that but now is the time to
Give up that and make memories that will last
Past forever.
I’ve always sheltered my words to myself, but
Now I can’t stop them from coming.
I’ve always run away from the public’s keen eye but
Now you, you have stopped me from running.
Let’s play a guitar to the beat of our hearts and
Not be afraid to dance in the dark,
See the world from the top of a Ferris Wheel,
Ferris Bueller skips class like my heart skips beat after beat,
I’ll make you pancakes from scratch and nobody
Else is invited to our Breakfast Club.
You wish that you love life was more like a John Hughes flick?
Skip town with our boombox, dance all night to that groove ****
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
I awaken to the lonliest sound
Heard on the Seaway:
The plaintiff fog horn,
One continuous, wayward hooooom.
Again, it sounds travelling
Across water dunes to another
Holy town, lights blinking.
J.W. left a brochure;
They knocked on a locked door.
The rain erupts on my deck boards;
There's dog droppings on my lawn;
Birds are singing in the morn,
And I open my door.
Imagine, a new by-law prohibiting
Backyard rinks;
There are no icicles,
No tongues extended palate-like;
No salt lines on my boots;
And I haven't seen a one horse sleigh
Or heard harness bells.
The North Pole and Santa have been exposed.
I have a Christmas wish,
And I'm ready to use it.
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
looking out through rose-tainted windows
and peach-skin dreams.
the world around you
(you´re such a good boy)
is such a new thing
and you haven´t got the time
(it´s time to leave the playground now)
to waste on all these simple things
like figurines on icy roller rinks
or wet flamingos in bright pinks
shining like the stars that
drink
the darkness out of the night
the world around you
fairly new
might seem too small
for all your dreams to
bottle
(you can be anything)
and it is
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
There was another brother whom history forgets
And though born a fisherman, he preferred other nets.
The coterie of rink rats who lived on the Left Coast
Thought he was sine qua non, and they would often boast
*He’s better than his brother Joe,
Es-ki-mo Di-mag-gi-o.*
His slapper had heat to make a goalie wet himself;
His wrister was money either five-hole or top-shelf.
After the goaltender felt another puck **** by,
He’d curse and bang the crossbar as fans took up the cry
*He’s better than his brother Joe,
Es-ki-mo Di-mag-gi-o.*
He dominated rinks out West like no other man
From Calgary to Saskatoon, Fresno to Spokane.
He’d hat tricks in Winnipeg, six-point games in Moose Jaw
Moving scribes to hackneyed verse written in fits of awe.
*He’s better than his brother Joe,
Es-ki-mo Di-mag-gi-o.*
Though the man was a fine skater, strong, agile and fleet
The slightest flaw in the ice caused anguish to his feet
And he would scold arena crews—*What’d you call this mush?
‘Tis nothing but chips and ruts; I’d rather skate on slush!*
(More prickly than his brother Joe,
Es-ki-mo Di-mag-gio.)
After one match in Oakland on ice unduly rough
He stormed into the locker room, shouting ‘Nuff’s enough!
He didn’t change his sweater as he stormed out the door,
Hopping on a trolley car, to be seen never more
(He’s a bit loony, don’t you know.
Es-ki-mo Di-mag-gi-o.)
He was sighted in the Yukon, once or perhaps twice
Engaged in some mad mission to find the perfect ice.
Neither man nor beast can say what became of this fool,
Though bits of skate lace appear in petrified bear stool
(Tastes better than his brother Joe?
Es-ki-mo Di-mag-gi-o.)
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 10:10 AM UTC
Dear Summer,
Thank you for the Rain
Days spent at skating rinks
Summer classes
And hours spent in the car.
Thank you for the new experiences
The opportunities
And lots of new friends.
Thank you for the hard work
The challenges
The ends
And new beginnings.
The heartaches
The headaches
And plenty of growing pains.
Thank you for the warmth
The scolding asphalt
Lying in the sun and burning to a crisp.
Thank you for that one day I spent time with my family
The trip I took with my friends
And everything in between.
Goodbye Summer, you were magnificent.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
She's a troubador, singing for love,
Like a town cryer you will surely find her,
Down in the precincts, sat at the ice rinks,
Sculpting and showing off her soul's fire,
She's a troubador, singing for love,
Like a preacher, she's a beseecher,
Down in the precincts, sat at the ice rinks,
Sculpting and showing off, her skills as a teacher.
You can tell her from her song,
A divine ditty,
It sings true and pretty,
That lifts itself above the throng,
Singing to the children,
As the adults go blithely by,
Like they do when they hear a bird in the sky,
The adults are absent minded,
Spiritually blinded,
Playing games,
But the children are kindred,
They see her flames,
And dance in its fire,
To the adults' shame,
They dance along to her lyres,
Who among us can say they came?
To witness her fitness, suffice to inspire,
Love and eternal desires.
She's a troubador, singing for love,
Like a town cryer you will surely find her,
Down in the precincts, sat at the ice rinks,
Sculpting and showing off her soul's fire,
She's a troubador, singing for love,
Like a preacher, she's a beseecher,
Down in the precincts, sat at the ice rinks,
Sculpting and showing off, her skills as a teacher.
She's writing alone,
Typing madly in to her iPhone,
Catching snippets of her mind's moan,
With inspiration at the fingertips she foams,
Half-assedly rolling smokes,
******* hard when she's taking tokes,
Finding ways to crack jokes,
Taking aim, cussing blokes
Taking wide and long strokes
That *** a whole in one,
She's not serious she's real fun,
A sizzling, smoking gun,
Who runs with the sun,
All at one,
Says it all yet there's so much more,
Can tell she feels it raw,
To love, pity and adore,
She begs the children and implores.
She's a troubador, singing for love,
Like a town cryer you will surely find her,
Down in the precincts, sat at the ice rinks,
Sculpting and showing off her soul's fire,
She's a troubador, singing for love,
Like a preacher, she's a beseecher,
Down in the precincts, sat at the ice rinks,
Sculpting and showing off, her skills as a teacher.
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 12:10 AM UTC
To shake the powdered atoms
from the flaking cavern walls
That fossil horn
has summoned tribes
from different walks
alive tonight
Loose trousered hounds of pedal drums
are swilling bass for rocket fuel
All spastick in the rinks of treble,
animating vertebrae
draw talismanic creatures
rolling planets from
their shoulder blades.
Into the gathered sound
The ritual breaks a rip- tide sweat
A chance to wake the daemon
through those coronets of frequency
for stussy armoured Sufi
whirling
pneuma to humidity
A circled dharma rhythm-grasp
a knowledge passed from
Astronaut cartographers.
Acoustics of the standing stones
the hunting party hill-top chants
a triumph in the sacred groves
two hundred thousand years
of dance,
Have brought us here.
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 9:28 AM UTC
I'm gonna get away
Call me out to Santa Fe
Yeah I'm gonna get away
I wish I could go back to yesterday
Call me, tell me she don't wanna play
Tell her it's okay
No plans, what am I gonna do today?
I need to get away
Call me out to Santa Fe
I wanna get away
Friends can't tell the smile's fake
Wait too long to take
She's comin along, she tell me she don't love me though
That's okay, I'm gonna steal the show
Spotlight, late nights
Free-falling, not afraid of heights
Real sights, fist-fights
It's gonna be a long night
Oh God, I need to get away
But if I don't, it's okay
I'll go back to yesterday
Where the fields shield the pain
And the gold coats the water and steamboats divide the regenerating field of tears
Blood floats, saliva sinks
Roller skating through ice rinks
Ask my brain what he thinks
Brain runs, legs think
Arms call and connect the links
Head spins, eyes roll
Veins pop, leaking blood into my soul
Heart hurts, love flirts
Feet disperse
Head alerts
Death inserts
Soul calls time to reverse
Many girls in mini-skirts
Wind blows, hello, perverts
Rain's out, puddles squirt
Cold out, gloves and sweatshirts
Gun shots, coffee pots
Rain drops and bloodied cops
Where's my way to Santa Fe?
I was told I'd be gone by today
But now that time has come to pass, I take refuge in the past
I know this life was not meant to last
So I look to the sky, and gaze in splendour at the stars He's cast
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 4:35 AM UTC
you were there for me once upon a time,
in sleepless nights and ungodly hours,
and forgotten wishes made on shooting stars.
you were there for me once upon a time,
in empty rinks at midnight,
and fractured memories of a better time.
your sparkling eyes wink back at me whenever i fall,
a starburst of flashing streetlights and glittering stars,
filled with infinite opportunities and unfulfilled dreams,
with stores to explore and people to meet,
and it always felt as if you were healing my broken heart with your blinding colors.
your voice is an orchestra,
made of a toddler’s excited squeals and a young man’s silent tears,
made of a mother’s soft lullabies and a businesswoman’s clicking heels,
made of honking cars and laughing schoolchildren.
it cannot be silenced,
no matter how hard they may try to force your mouth shut.
you are the long walks at night,
the glances out the window of a glass rink,
the prayers from my balcony.
in the end, i want to thank you,
for growing up with me and teaching me everything i know,
and for being a part of me i’ll never forget.
Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 8:32 PM UTC
Sixteen,
drenched feet tread
away from school to
a small pond I call home.
The rain beats against my back,
shoves my head into the water.
Water’s weight
drips from my hair
and shatters my reflection.
Now I am ugly.
Now I am a thousand plastic pieces polluting
this sickened sea and its
seasick schools of fish.
Deprecation drowning their gills and
choking out compliments.
Six pack rings
ring open their stomachs.
Swallowed plastic bags that
drift along the surface.
The surface of the water,
the surface of my face
fake in this plastic shadow
suffocating my gaze.
Vision fading,
my goals disintegrating,
dissociating into a saltwater solution:
one part school,
part parents,
part disappointment
drizzles down my esophagus and
evaporates into tear gas,
tearing my throat open.
Once a bottle so voiceless,
now a riptide of voices
pulling my tears back
to the edge of my eyelids.
The edge of a pond
shut tight under
ice sheets,
skating rinks for their words
worn down by the raindrops.
The rain,
the tears falling from
the clouds in my mind follow
the child melting his way back home,
opening the door to my soul.
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 1:21 AM UTC
As fawns become stags
And leaves, fallen gold,
As lakes freeze to rinks
So our hearts turn to stone
For our love has left us
With geese in the sky
But we'll remember September
'Til the day we die.
- p. winter
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 7:33 PM UTC