"scram" poems
While the globe crawls as
S L O W
as my bill is thin,
I've got places to go,
sunsets to chase
and mighty, invisible wings
to feed, so
bring on the sugar water!
Feathers flickering furiously;
sweet Jesus!
where are my feet?
I am BUZZING through today,
routes as long as my tongue
repeated in an
unbroken line
thousands of times,
*hey, **** OFF, you goon!
That's MY nectar!
Scram!*
Planning my daily rounds,
relying on the donations
of fans who eye my turf war
with childish glee
*and I hope
beyond hope to see
pitcher after sweet pitcher
waiting for me*
Because neglect is starvation,
an end to the thrum
of tiny hearts.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
Copycat, copycat.
Mimic all that I do,
Even though
you know
it's not good for you.
Copycat, copycat.
Do not be a fool.
You can fool
So many people.
But not me;
I will not drool
All over you.
Copycat, copycat.
Giveback my life.
No, I do not care if copying me is how you survive.
No, I hate you a lot... so goodbye.
Copycat, copycat.
I shouldn't call you so:
You're a ***** and I hope that you know.
I appoint you head ***** from now on.
Bam! Scram!
It's about time that you've gone.
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 9:21 PM UTC
Melting madness and shimmering isles
The bubble-gum boils in drug pedophiles
Let's teach the East to love Western style
We come in with strap-on's and pillage with smiles
The rest of the world watches their watches
People keep saying we're at hour eleven
We're changing the design on our gold lockets
From a heart to a blackjack, Seven Seven Seven!
The college boys assure you that they know the lyrics
And the meanings behind them for they've been enlightened
They swarm out like locusts and pretentiously parrot
Verbatim the textbooks they read when they're frightened
That they'll die with nothing to show for their efforts
They want everyone else in the world to remember
That they did exist on some scale of importance
Even though we're just spun yarn of grass, dirt and oceans
Intelligence streams the consciousness seeds and conscientious objectors it seems
So pardon me for the fallacy of pardoning tyrannical dictator queens
It seems these days to be discovered you need to cheat on your spouse or your lover
You'd think that with all the war crimes we've seen we would have hung at least one or the other
We've got two parties, so pick one or scram! (Look at them squirm as fast as they can!)
They're starting to think for themselves again! Quick, strangle the market and feed this man
Acid and bath salts and give him some tear gas and send him on in to disarm the smear traps
And **** everyone so we'll jump to conclusion with no where to turn, the final solution!
I'm drunk again and we're falling in, the shoreline is riddled with explosions
We don't speak of the war, we have no comment, we're almost out of original content
We're frantically searching for a brand new contest to prove that our nation is still the best
Whether you're China, Russia, Israel, Pakistan, the U.K., or India, the U.S. or Japan
Let's take all the gangbanging **** out of Oakland and drop them in to the Atlantic Ocean
Or better yet, set them loose in Uganda, let's see how long they last in Rwanda.
I'm done with religion and socialized medicine, this aristocracy of pull and deception
So for once in our lifetimes, let's seek a vision, because God knows people can't make ******* decisions.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 4:20 AM UTC
********** isn’t the same;
My collarbone doesn’t peek up through my skin how it used to when I removed my shirt.
I can’t see my ribcage protrude over my flesh under each breast like it used to.
My hourglass figure has too much sand; it’s spilling over.
The mirror seems to hide its eyes and turn away and the scale screams for me to scram.
The numbers glare up at me as I look down over the overfilling sand to where I wonder what it’d feel like if the ocean washed up over my toes in a skimpy bikini,
My hair blowing in the wind as I let the sun kiss my cheeks.
How it feels to be kissed by the glass watching me strip into the dim bathroom light,
Instead of slapped by the picture I see in the mirror.
When I bend over to finish removing the clothing,
I have to look away from the extra bulge of sand that sits directly above my waist
And haunts me by the rolls that hang on to my fattened skeleton.
I wonder how it feels to be loved by the reflection staring back at me.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
There was a young man from Zagreb
Whose pencil ran out of lead
He went to the quack
Whose answer to that
Was use a biro instead
There was a vicar from the Tyne
Who put all his sermons online
A woman wrote please,
I'm weak at the knees
Here's my address, what's thine?
The Prime Minister went for a walk
Invited a woman to talk
She said "If you want a bang you can jolly well scram"
He said Do you know who I am?"
Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 2:41 PM UTC
i wish, i wish, i were a simple fish,
that spends a thoughtless life in salty sea,
is hooked, and fried, and ends up on a dish,
deboned and sliced to pieces silently,
for i have been too human-like for me,
and cry out salty rivers held by dams,
for losses that, to fish, would never be,
with words upon my inner teeth enjambed,
yet if i were, the salt would grow by grams,
the sea in saltiness would **** all life,
before the fish had any chance to scram,
avoiding death to live with heavy strife,
for all my tears in water'd be unseen,
fish mouths agape would know not why they scream
(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
I said ‘get the **** over it’
and was almost thrown under again
I lost my footing
It was blunder again
I began to wonder again
What in the world is being strong
What is being individual
when we’re all humming the same ******* song
writing the same ******* tune
We all want to make love to a woman in our rooms
with a nice tongue and good *****
for one night
and then scram
Replace the ‘b’ with a ‘k’ so we can read each others’
and stay with me another night
and then maybe another
I’m not wrong to say I want this bad
I’m not wrong to say I need it
and if it is my blood you want
It’s not wrong to say I’ll bleed it
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 11:13 PM UTC
I lost a good woman
You lost a good man
Not being with you
wasn’t part of the plan,
but you chose to scram
without saying a word
Choosing not to clarify
all the things you heard
So quick to assume
your friends told the truth,
but they still act as if
they’re all in their youths
High school is over
There’s so much more to life
There is no need to learn
every thing in hindsight
Honestly, I believed
we were past the pettiness
I was ready to move on
and grant your every wish
I guess I was wrong,
but it wouldn’t be the first
I just never expected
things to become worse
Do you still possess
my picture in your purse?
Our’s is in my wallet
You’d cry if you saw it
Memories of something
that was once so sweet
Now I drive around with
a vacant passenger seat
I doubt it would be
filled for a quite a while,
‘til I find that good girl
that can make me smile
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC
He said with ardor that he loves me
That his heart for my heart pines
Of this obsession I see
Insanely innocuous signs.
He called me his Winnie the Pooh
His panda and his dove
(Ought I lock myself in the zoo?
Seems I'm an animal that he loves).
He said that like an anthology
I was an interesting read
(He doesn't know the e of my etymology
For I'm written all in Greek).
He said that he would be thrilled
To have me as his wife
(But if I were to light his kitchen
He'd have a short shelf life).
He said that like the sky
My eyes were blue and deep
That my voice was a sweet lullaby..
(Dear me! Should I put him to sleep?).
He said that my pretty smile
Was as wide as a well made road
(Well, he'd have to run for miles
Before he reached my sweet abode).
He said that I was a Wonder
Like the great barrier reef
(I sure hope he goes down-under
I might get some reprieve).
I think it's really not me
That with fervor he thinks he loves
But what he wants me to be
For I am none of the above.
And when I am by his side
Like a bubble I do burst
From him, I must hide
For he brings out my very worst.
And so my handsome lover boy
He rants on and on
How atrociously he annoys
So **** scram and begone!
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
No more will this go
We are here to thrive and glow
So scram with your hate
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 10:12 AM UTC
With the sunlight on my face,
All the walls surrounding me; opaque,
The outside world completely efface,
I found myself, now awake.
The fortress of my captivity,
Keeping me alive but still,
The fortress of my incompetency,
The last of me it killed.
The pleasure it tingled,
Cannot be replaced,
Still I wish to run away,
To the land outside these gates,
All the gold I have,
Is nothing but metal,
All the joy I need,
Is not for what I’ve settled,
This fortress of my solitude,
Forever screaming the pains it felt,
This fortress of my extinction.
With me, dying many deaths.
Curtains in this room,
Stopped speaking now,
Left their bodies here,
And heart outside the realm, astound.
It’s marvellous how miserable I am,
With all the wonders at my foot,
The jewels, the pleasures,
Even so,
I’d love to take all my plans and scram.
The palace of illusion,
I am living in,
Has given me more than I ever deserved,
Yet the feeling of me belonging in the field,
Is something I’ve always preserved .
The fortress of my hopelessness,
Falling down now,
With the reign of my lord changing,
In front of an unknown king we bow,
Thrown out of this boundary,
Helplessness prevails,
But the joy it brought me,
I set a new sail.
For life has always been,
Catastrophic,
Dreadful it seemed,
It felt worthwhile now,
Alas! It is just a dream.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 10:53 AM UTC
she saw me see her through countless
classmates running wild Mrs. Robins
sees all of the yard but the soccer field
corner where the oaks lay thick shadows
clasping hands we ran into hiding my plan
“you show me yours and I’ll smile and scram”
her plan “You show me yours and I’ll scream,
I’m a lady” too trapped in each other’s eyes
we stared until the class bell rang walking back
I stopped her just before the door and kissed
her blushing cheek in the sunlight
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 1:59 AM UTC
A misty mist I am,
Solemnly after sometimes I have to scram.
I am a curtain of white pearl
My life is just like a short-lived girl.
I am wild white layer of divine,
With presence of heavenly glitter and shine.
I murmur with silence and dance fine.
But I am torn apart with the tremendous sunshine.
My origin the ultimate death of mine
I start my demanding journey with morning and end up with sunshine.
My beauty is my only flair
As the most astonishing is my mournful white layer.
I create a white soulful presence with my look,
I am just like the blank pages of a book.
I touch the petals of flowers with my white sheet
and embrace the green leaves of plants I meet.
My birth represents the colour of mournful death
This is proved with my each breath
My origin is the ultimate death of mine.
I start my demanding journey with morning and end up with sunshine.
-- Lakshya Singh
IX TH A
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
‘You ********
You ********
You ********
It’s all I hear
Being shouted down
The corridor
Thank God I’m
Walking the other
Way.
I do miss those nights
At flat 33.
It’s another generation
Another guy being
Thrown out
On his gluteus
Maximus
Told to scram!
Get the **** out!
Because Delilah’s on it?
And he’s out.
Some of the best and worst moments
Have been endured on my bottom.
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 10:08 AM UTC
I didn't know you'd never fall like you did
feet in the air, palms on the ground
I didn't know you'd never make me feel like a kid
but I wanted to so I ran round and round
up and down, searching for the love I hope you kept hid
between dancing smiles and raining frowns
but it was fourteen plus two and two and two
my will was yet ready to trek to depths of the unending blue
when you pushed, i couldn't believe it to be true
leaving me to drown in the nonexistent idea of me and you
but we snap, flip back, run around the race track
to the same starting point, white flags waving surrender
to contagious conversationalist talking of extraneous happiness
tracing the blank novels of love tales never written
you've always been the captain of this ship
swearing you're too afraid to wreck it
but you sail us into the lands never sailed by experience
just to see the life unseen, im serious
and I have a feeling
we're aimless travelers
I have a feeling
we're destined passengers
I have a feeling
we'd never have a feeling
because we're terrified
of having a feeling
of dissapointments
of having a feeling
of failure
of having a feeling
that feelings could take us over
but we snap, flip back, run around the race track
to the same starting point, white flags waving surrender
to contagious conversationalist talking of extraneous happiness
tracing the blank novels of love tales never written
we could take the long way home
drive a little longer
just don't pull over, we can just roam
pass the passing seasons,
we'll just wander
through songs for all the wrong reasons
between the voices and instruments we can rest
just don't pull over, we have no reason
time is the test, the test is the exit exam
just don't pull over, cause im going to scram
running in the opposite direction
to a world where you can never read my ****** expressions
of pure affection
but we snap, flip back, run around the race track
to the same starting point, white flags waving surrender
to contagious conversationalist talking of extraneous happiness
tracing the blank novels of love tales never written
but it was time, i escaped the coy persuasion
it was mathematics, the perfect equation
of fourteen plus two plus a few and I lost count
and replaced it with a sensation
of unrequited friendship, our own sermon on the mount
a love stronger than I aimed when one met six
of trust bound tighter than welded steel
cause now we just laugh, skip past the oceans filled by hurt feelings
walking on the beach, looking at the beautiful view
of what was once me and you
but we snap, flip back, run around the race track
to the same starting point, white flags waving surrender
to contagious conversationalist talking of extraneous happiness
tracing the blank novels of love tales never written
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 5:12 PM UTC
Fay met Buruch
by the entrance to the Square,
waiting by the wall,
eyes tearful,
fair hair in disarray.
She had shopping in her arms,
hands holding bread rolls
close to her breast.
Buruch took in her eyes,
the hair unkempt, unusual.
You ok? He asked.
They are rowing again, she said.
Who? He asked.
The parents, she said.
You got to take that home?
He asked pointing to the shopping
in her arms.
Yes, she said, I dropped the last rolls
and he sent me out for more,
after hitting me,
after the rows began again.
I’ll walk back with you, he said.
They walked to the stairs
and climbed up side by side.
Don’t you have shopping to get?
She asked.
I can get it later, he said, no rush.
They reached her landing
and he waited
while she went in the door.
Loud voices, shouts, crying.
He waited, hands in pockets,
wondering how she was,
wishing he could knock
and ask her out.
He waited,
looked over the balcony,
looked back at the door.
He knocked the door.
The door opened.
Fay’s father stood there.
What you want kid? He said.
Can Fay come out to play? Buruch asked.
The father stood staring,
hands by his sides.
Who wants to know?
I do, Buruch said.
She’s busy, the father said,
got things to do.
All day? Buruch asked.
If I say so, the father said.
Buruch stood staring,
hands in pockets,
head to one side.
So she’s not coming out? He said.
The father sighed.
Do your parents know
you pester people?
Buruch said,
Yes, pretty much.
The father said, beat it kid.
I’ll wait, Buruch said,
touching his toy 6 shooter
in the holster at his side.
You’ll have a long wait,
the father said.
Buruch leaned against the wall,
pushed the cowboy hat at a tilt.
Ain’t you that Jewish kid
from downstairs? The father said.
Aren’t you the Catholic
who beats his wife and kid?
The father stood full stretch,
his eyes darkening,
his hands becoming fists.
Scram kid before I beat you,
the father said.
Buruch pulled out
his 6 shooter.
Touch me and I’ll fill you
full of lead, Buruch said.
The father closed his eyes,
then closed the door.
Buruch waited;
more loud voices and cries,
as were before.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 2:46 PM UTC
There is a black bottomless pit,
It consumes you when your weak, and breaks down your wits.
Life seems so pointless when you've reached your wits end,
Where words stick to your head, and your mind begins to bend.
You don't want to get up and see the world anew,
Your mind confines you, the voices then agree too, they hate you.
You try so hard to find an exit in this barren black pit,
But every time you try to get out you get hit.
People have pushed me to the point on where I can't trust them anymore,
They just walk all over you, they scrape there feet on the floor.
No one really gives a ****
They just tell you to scram.
When you are getting ready to skip town,
Don't look at there false frowns.
They will yell "Don't leave! We need you!"
Don't listen to them, it isn't true.
They tell you what you wish to hear,
It's never really true.
My conclusion is simple: love only a few
Trust no one. They only make you cry blue.
Then you feel as though you are dead,
But then you realize, it's all in your head.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
the soul of a crack fiend
I scram up ***** pop cans
and your belongings that gather dust in your alley
I scrap around in garbage cans finding tid bits of food.
While I watch you in your big home stuffing your faces
the dog even manages to eat better then I will
your life is not hard
you dont understand torment
you dont understand hunger
like I do.
I'am a person of societies promise that failed
I will be that person you read about in the paper
a man noone knew
a man noone smiled at
a man who did'nt get a hug
or a thank you
or even a look that wasnt disgust
this is my life
a life of constant battels
a life of broken promises
a life of forgotten dreams
and forgotten love
a life that noone even knows exist
a life that will one day haunt you
when the curtain closes and the crowd just leaves
I'll run in your mind
because you didnt offer your time or a dime
I will live in your mind
you'll think about me during dinner
where I whisper
and whisper
and whisper
and whisper
Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 7:27 PM UTC
as far back as I can remember I always wanted to be a poet,
just didn’t have the words for it.
**** Facebook people are out to get me
I can’t crack any of my “yo’ momma” jokes
I cannot land any ***** **** pictures on my friends’ walls..
and right now they’re tryin’ to ****** make me change my name!
the alternative would be for me to scram,
but i am not a fast runner.
like a big fat wizard of wOrdZ King Kong, I’ll climb
office buildings, with a girl on each arm,
only to scream out: “Made it, Ma! Top of the world!”.
not sure why I needed to get here.
you all can see me, right?
life should be as Robert put it: “Better to be king for a night, than schmuck for a lifetime!”
I’m still waiting for that special night.
I think everyone should live like this! For that “one night”.
that would certainly make the commies smile.
they’d form a queue, hoping they’ll have another chance to a fresh night of
kingdomness.
********
I believe ****
I hate to say this, but this race is getting to me.
I think I’m getting the fear.
yeah.. really! sometimes, I get the feeling that I’m gonna die right at the next curve,
and my fear pushes me to push the pedal to the metal.
you know what they say: “Death’s forty minutes away. I’ll be there in ten”.
or was it thirty?
never mind!.. I’ll be there in ten!
today, my space friend told me about the #FuckTheMan movement.
I found it to be very static..
despite the authority defying mumbo jumbo.
I told him that I’m gonna use it in one of my poems and
pretend that I’m smart.
I don’t think he believes (in) me anymore.
I’m lying right now.
Ha!
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
good grief shrieks the silence I have not obtained
Yet still optimistically await inside the corridor of mind chatter I am.
Yes man, I'd scram if that's your plan - it demands too many details
From those who have less substance that whispers from mutes to deaf ears.
He is not real; I am not allowing the nots!
He is just real and perfect for me...
I am secretly affected to transmutation of myself into a silly girl.
Do not reveal
what I have just revealed.
No telling how I strategized this maneuver,
With subconsciousness in the captain's chair
No co-pilot at hand.
I am very hopeful for the self to not this time ruin
Whatever he sees that he seeks to be near-to...
Wish me luck on that one, too... I know I shall
Get this one and not have it unveiled as another
All possibilities do stand open and waiting our choices to live
Our story so good it is certainly outlawed and classified
So good it is we almost forget we really just wanted to die
When I ran into him in the street that night.
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 4:40 PM UTC
Comfort, Closeness fading fast, these ties aren't meant to last.
All alone once again, right back where I began.
Back to my cage I run, everything coming undone.
No more adventures to plan, all alone in this barren land.
People come and people go, tumbling down my rabbit hole.
Curious are they who come to play, amongst the great array.
Caught off guard by what they find, I'm left alone with my mind.
Unable to decipher what they saw, feeling greatly appalled.
All the while things change, making me seem quite strange.
Unable to process what I am, people quickly scram.
Far away they flee, left alone with memories.
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 7:23 PM UTC
I don’t know that I trust myself
To keep my brains like a raw egg
When the time comes (when I’m supposed to know what to do)
And not to crack my skull,
See my brains drip into the bowl,
Mix them up for a broken yolk,
And then pour them into the pan
So they can scram(ble.)
Sometimes I wonder
If I’ll have to salt them
or add any pepper
or just dig in.
Sometimes I hunger
To know everything
Sometimes I feel so engorged
I’d rather know nothing.
The worst part is not knowing
That the worst part is knowing.
I want to hate my own guts
But that’s--that's utterly nuts,
For it’s never the guts
Should be disdained—
It’s the yolk in my egg, or
The stuff in my brains in my head.
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 8:41 PM UTC
the soul of a crack fiend
I scram up ***** pop cans
and your belongings that gather dust in your alley
I scrap around in garbage cans finding tid bits of food.
While I watch you in your big home stuffing your faces
the dog even manages to eat better then I will
your life is not hard
you dont understand torment
you dont understand hunger
like I do.
I'am a person of societies promise that failed
I will be that person you read about in the paper
a man noone knew
a man noone smiled at
a man who did'nt get a hug
or a thank you
or even a look that wasnt disgust
this is my life
a life of constant battels
a life of broken promises
a life of forgotten dreams
and forgotten love
a life that noone even knows exist
a life that will one day haunt you
when the curtain closes and the crowd just leaves
I'll run in your mind
because you didnt offer your time or a dime
I will live in your mind
you'll think about me during dinner
where I whisper
and whisper
and whisper
and whisper
Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 7:20 PM UTC
In a blink of an eye, it was done
The cost of souls the Earth has spun
Death upon an uneager heart
Clause was signed by Death, oh what an art
It's quick, painless, at the time shameless, maiming, and brainless
Rude awakening.
At the very hour of death do you think they know?
Will they cower?
Will they stress?
Will their bodies glow like a ghost?
At the final thought of when they reminisce
Looking at their past existence
Will they understand their fault in the plan
Understand they had every moment in there hand
Realize that if there was a miss, it was oneself that didn't train to block the hit, didn't plot enough to dodge the grip, didn't get heighten to understand that evil exist, didn't realise that materializing got your brain chained like a slave being whipped.
We a trip
for worshipping them idols
stay idle
they say scram out the brain!
keep em dead and dumb
stay idle
everything will be okay
don't move worthless one
the time has come mkay
In a mist of the moment
as it clouds over my head,
I am my own opponent,
every moment,
every moment,
that I sure did not hope to miss,
was my own fault,
falling into doubt
&
stupid idol worshipping,
whether it is something so easy
as playing games
or
studying for some dumb degree,
or learning how to draw,
for art has infatuated me
even at the moment where I could land a job,
I don't take it
I just leave it
then
I cry cause I ain't owning any of these mobs
of cash
fat stacks
****
I wish I had that
a dream like all man
who work the land
that we plunder so much
what is the purpose?
why are we on this crust?
what a bunch of greedy *****
****
I am out again I need a blunt....
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC