"scruffy" poems
Fashion to nerd are not twerps
matching oufits make you chirp
mix n match is my motto
never look like a scruffy otter
have the right clothes for working
add a sprinkle of derpiness
and your hair must go
make sure your not slow
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
A little sight, him sauntering over to my side of the bed
pantless and looking eager as a child to see me:
he had her ******* in mind. I know now,
I only feel sympathetic about it, I know it pained him
when he touched mine.
He said her name so few times I just thought of her as the
animal homophone, and if I were anyone else,
I would not have worried when he said
she thought of him on occasion, because morning came
as morning still and he still had a big heart for a liar.
The thing is that our rapport was honesty –
if I laid on him too heavy, he would request I scoot over
if he did not want to sing me a song
in that baritone fluid, I would seek another shoreline.
Submissive, yet, I would ask him what I wanted without
asking if he could simply love being loved,
I could not understand. Only a scruffy teddy bear could.
But we do not talk about it, maybe I mention
a bunny an ex gave me, one I cut the ears off of when
the apocalypse came, but he has not a syllable.
Nobody wants their lovers to exist
with other loves, and sometimes we do not want ourselves
to exist with other loves even more so.
I only feel sympathetic about it, because I first felt I had
a sibling when we connected, became all carnal,
sweet nature handed me a body.
I only just understood that I was not given the right one.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:02 PM UTC
His collar i wear with pride and joy
to be His lover
to be His boy
i bow and fall upon my knees
to happily serve
and to please
i submit
and obey only Him
this is a submissive's song
a submissive's hymn
for my Dom Scruffy Lobo
Jul 23, 2021
Jul 23, 2021 at 12:12 AM UTC
Your tall body has always enticed me
Your long arms have kept me safe
Your scruffy beard makes me smile
And your smile makes me melt
Your hands hold mine and make me feel loved
And wipe away the tears
Enough of these superficial reasons
Your love has comforted me
Your humor has made me laugh
(Until I snort)
Your words have made smile
And cry
But always out of love
Your generosity
Has never left me empty handed
No matter how much I beg you
To keep your money for yourself
Your caring heart reminds me
I'm not alone
Somehow you stopped the shaking trembling in my anxious thoughts
You brought me back to reality
You stopped me from dying
You stopped me from hurting myself
You stopped me from starving
From expelling the contents of my stomach
But most of all you gave me hope
A reason to carry on
A reason to fight my mind
To tell the mirror it's a liar
To throw my blades away
And eat whatever I want
A reason to keep living
And to love myself
I know you don't feel good enough
But look at all this evidence
Change the criteria in your head
The requirement of "good enough"
Should only contain one thing
You
All you have to be is you
To be good enough for me
Because I ******* love you
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
The wall that was a stoner,
It was always very high,
Everyday it felt it could get
Higher,
******
Chipped
Looks, rough around the edges
Quite a scruffy looking wall,
It was bricking it once,
As it thought it was moving
But that was the clouds passing by.
The wall always felt used,
People,
Walking,
Over,
It all of the time,
Some even hit it,
***** were always soar"**
The wall was a stoner
Bricks,
Mortar,
&
More,
It was a high wall, because its days
Were still, it couldn't be anything more..
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
Somebody please tell me what the hell is going on
Why am i still crying and where has my love gone
For a brief moment in time I thought he was still there
with his beautiful scruffy face, and his curly hair
but then i looked a little closer and realized his eyes had dimmed
he struck once,
struck twice
I realized that man wasn't him.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
Note: This was not written by me. It was written by my Dom Scruffy Lobo.
you come before Me,
Kneeling at My feet.
So many things to show you,
you just wait and see.
Worshiping My body;
Singing praises to My name.
I'll take you to new depths,
My pleasure is your pain.
I'm your Alpha, your King.
your place is here with Me!
Show Me how you'll serve.
your full loyalty I deserve.
I'm your Alpha, your Beast.
you're Mine for eternity!
Lustfully desiring.
And forever admiring.
By My side you pledge your life,
Come submit to Me!
I'll be blunt, it's all you want
Come submit to Me!
Note: This was my response to my Dom Scruffy Lobo
i close my eyes and i dream
of moan and cry and sensual scream
Brutal hands and gently love
You are the one that i dream of
Your gentle kiss and savage bite
i am Yours in the dark and the light
my soul, my heart, my body and mind
Rejoice in what W/we did find
You are Beauty of Heart and Mind and Soul
my Beast, my Wolf, You make me whole
Love has blossomed from deep within
Which a love for me has never been
i give You my love and all of me
Growing together to become a W/we
To You i submit, i fall and bow
Yours i shall be forever and now.
Jun 5, 2021
Jun 5, 2021 at 12:40 PM UTC
Note: This is a running conversation between Dom Scruffy Lobo and me (his submissive - bunny)
From the Dom
Each day I grow more in love with You
Each day I feel your presence
Each day you submit yourself to me
Each day without hesitancy
How could I be so lucky
To have found a boy so sweet
How can I grow this bond
Until we one day meet
The Wolf preys on bunny
A dance to do eternally
This Wolf devours His bunny
With love so merrily
All-in-all love so complex
But still love so simplified
To be near you
And hear you moan
To Me you give your life.
From the submissive
I wish I could tell You what Your love means to me
But that right now is an impossibility
There aren't enough words in any language that's known
To quantify these feelings You have grown
i wish i could tell You how much I love you
But that is also something I cannot do
In the language of dragons and fairy and magic
The words might be lost, truly tragic
But listen to my heart as it speaks to yours
I know Yours hears the right words by the score
The magnitude is greater, greater than great
The intensity of our love i just can't narrate
But trust and believe i'd give my life up for You
Trust and believe serve and obey i'll always for You.
Jun 16, 2021
Jun 16, 2021 at 5:22 PM UTC
and if i stop, i'll miss the little things:
shaving my legs when i know you're coming over and
not drinking coffee because you don't like the taste of it on my tongue.
i'll miss
running out to your car with my shoes in my hand,
the very last goodnight kiss that's always sweetest.
i'll miss lying to my parents about traffic
and weather
when we were right around the curve of the road,
stealing kisses.
i'll miss
when you don't shave because you know i like your scruffy boy-stubble
when you touch my face without speaking
when your actions
are louder
than words.
i'll miss
your sweetness
i'll miss
your puckish sincerity
i'll miss
you.
i'll miss your hands
your tongue
and your lips on my cheek.
i'll miss you kissing each one of my fingers.
i'll miss our secret handshakes,
our inside jokes,
our petty fights.
i'll miss our song.
i'll miss our arguments about the beatles' breakup,
our railings against religious institutions
our speaking of souls.
and so what i'm proposing,
from me to you,
girl to boy and
heart to heart,
is that you don't stop loving me,
and i
won't stop loving
you.
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
I remember you.
Sweet, seventeen you
brand new scruffy beard
and black gym shorts
kissing me on the couch
when my parents weren't home.
Sweet, seventeen you
with those same bright eyes
and citric smile that stung the taste buds
on my tongue.
Sweet, seventeen you
drowned in sheer dumb luck and cheap Captain Morgan
(or whatever ***** it is you like to drink.)
Sweet, seventeen you
with callused hands, dirt stuck in the worry lines
and nails bit down to the bone.
Sweet, seventeen you
pushing my hair out of my face with those same ***** hands,
same reliant arms,
same crooked-tooth smile.
Sweet, seventeen you
with scared knuckles and a bare chest
just begging someone with the same youth
and vibrancy
to kiss it until the leather wore out
until the venom was ******
so you could stay sweet,
seventeen you
forever.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 6:13 PM UTC
The clock gets me.
It comes to me in the middle of the night
Pulls back the sheets and says, "Hey fucko."
Then it lifts open my sobby wet sand-encrusted lids,
It knows when I'm trying at sleep, pumping quarters
Like I was swallowing yawns, sometimes I try to squint
Harder and take a dream to the next level, whatever
The next level is. It's like Friday night when I wanted to go
Out to do something, whatever something is.
Because I know that if I don't I'll miss that thing that's so
Important that if I were to miss it the clock wouldn't come for me
Again.
And on Tuesday's when I'm knotting a dream around 2 o' clock
In the morning, my web-footed adventure, say, killing your
Boyfriend, say
Fighting the Nazis, say,
Rediscovering that you sent nudie pics to
That rando guy we met in that club that lives
in Prague-
I throw the clock at the ******* wall.
Because who knows, I make the bed wrong
Or maybe I don't cook right, or look right, or
Smile the right way at the right
Time. And you start thinking that I have to die.
The bane of my existence is an imagined feat in your
Walnut-sized brain, slowly numbing us while we're
Supposed to be, say
Listening to the rich, Oxford voice of
David Attenborough.
Instead you're thumbing through that index
of CVS cashiers, just trying to find a scruffy face
To flip your digits to, your homemade justification. It becomes
A feat, an unjust cause of mine to
Get it right, that imaginative and artificial bit you've
Been sewing up Monday twilight.
That's when I go out and jaw your sister, somewhere between
A smirk on your face and a bit of anger at the end of your sentences.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC
torn jeans
dimples
station wagons
shifting eyebrows
eager hands
wry smiles
chapped lips
cheap beer
deep-set eyes
pirated music
hates his birthday
stoplight-kisses
star-gazing in cornfields
****** knuckles
broken minds
lanky limbs
poetry books
scruffy faces
jet-black coffee
calloused hands that still feel soft
adventurer's heart
jumping fences
midnight tokes
always gives you hickeys
always opens your door
worn sneakers
chewed pen caps
late for work
old windbreakers
dirt under his fingernails
omniscient smirks
expensive cologne
good intentions -
but is bad with goodbyes
hates himself for making you cry
broken cigarettes
aviator shades at night
a perpetually furrowed brow
and a laugh that sounds like autumn leaves as they crunch beneath your feet
m.f.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC
The one with the
crack
along the middle,
dark and so thin
words could fall through
like water in a colander.
Under the grand chandelier,
a slew of sheets
spat with confident blue juice,
cardboard-covered notebooks,
a team of paper ***** to be tossed
towards your wooden jail.
Sketches of mice, polar bears,
a recipe for rabbit at his right elbow,
red Shakespeare
and a well-read thesaurus
as scruffy
as recently rinsed blonde hair.
You always ***** the lid
on your own *** of ink, black,
sleeping silver scissors
near your French dictionary
and shells over a plastic
sunglasses case.
The table
in the room
in the house on Tomás Ortuño,
serenity bathing you,
a golden spark
of solitude.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 5:07 PM UTC
Hers was the first face I found
freshman year at FSU.
I'll always remember that garish orange and green gator shirt,
and pin with the picture of a bulldog,
hanging from a noose.
I thought, oh Jeez, she's got school spirit,
and I shuddered at the image,
of cheerleaders, and sports stars, recieving preferential treatment,
but my first impression was far from the mark.
She had a smile for miles and eyes to match.
And a laugh that could shatter a frown.
And she laughed any chance she got.
The few pictures I have left of her,
she is laughing and smiling in each...
That big toothy smile,
and that magical laugh...
I remember the first time she kissed me.
I was playing my guitar on campus,
back when everybody did it,
not just pretentious **********
trying to show off.
She came up behind me,
and did the old hands over the eyes routine,
and of course I knew her voice immediately.
She turned my head and kissed me,
for the first time,
and I could hear the whispering,
and feel everyone's eyes on me,
and it felt pretty **** good.
How I wished someone had snapped a picture,
for the FSView, with the caption
" Future valedictorian kisses scruffy hippy freshman.
Entire student body baffled."
I was baffled.
She was the talk of the campus,
she spoke her mind always,
and she was active all over the campus,
doing this and that.
I asked her one day,
"Why do you make your life so complex,
when do you rest?"
and she said
"My life used to be complex, because I made it that way.
But believe it or not, with all I do around campus,
really my life is simple and fun. If I didn't love what I am doing
I would stop Will. Life is too short for complexity."
I laughed, and I thought to myself,
this woman is more complex than she lets on.
We went out for my entire freshman year,
but she graduated my sophmore year,
and she got a job in London, and she moved away that summer.
I said I would visit...I never did..
She said she would write...she did, once,
to tell me she was getting married,
she even invited me, but of course I didn't go..
She enclosed a photo of her and her fiance,
and it was clear what she saw in him..
he had a smile almost as big as hers,
and of course she was smiling too..
Of all the images burned into my memory
that picture is the one that hurts me most.
I wrote back, wishing her luck, and I told her I couldn't come,
I never heard from her again, but I prayed that night,
that he would treat her right, and if he took away her smile,
I prayed he would suffer, until he put it back.
Every time I close my eyes, I see that picture...
that smile...
I hope she's smiling, even as I write these words.
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 10:11 AM UTC
The Quantum Poetry Theorem
from a long time ago,
a thousand poems a priori.
**Dedicated to you, Albert Einstein and the cast of TBBT, special thanks to the OWS movement.,
But especially to the few, the brave, geeks who write poetry in word and in equations.**
Scruffy, yet ennobled,
my own 99% invade and
occupy all my senses,
in my eyesight encamped
sensing opportunity,
the 99 demand
that each shutter eye snap,
all nominal exhalations,
every quantum minutia perception,
be live streamed,
direct tv to you
Everything I witness,
transformed into an
acoustic guitar rocking vision,
a levitation of poetic expression,
set to a primitive three-chord
rock & roll overture,
and my iPad,
appointed Recording Secretary,
compiles exhalations as ecrivations
a preservation society of the verb,
strings of words emanating non-stop
within my head, from a guitar playing
twenty four seven, ironically,
expressed mathematically
Street strolling,
busy brasserie bar,
a Pinot Noir arrives,
a large pour of
stanzas and a
napkin upon to scribble
mind in ferment but
A Capella smooth cool,
my bossy brain requires
incident reports,
a "write me down, please,"
and
no matter how much I drink,
ain't anti-matter enough to
stop my eyes from seeing
every human interaction
as a poetic, probabilistic,
verbal equation,
quantum expressions of sensory upload
The brain revels and reels from overload,
no mas, no more,
poetry fatigue incurable,
caplets and ointments,
string theory,
can't cure or explain
the compulsion I feel,
and the 1% of me
protests my
overtaxed mental capacity,
and
hear the, see the, masses,
the shouts, the placards,
outside my home,
shut it down, no one cares,
no one wants your transplanted mechanics
in their eardrums
Huzzah, found in my gut,
a Grand Unifying Theory
to coordinate, gauge and harmonize
my internal asymmetries,
yes, a coupling factor required,
but still,
one equation that explains everything!
my fatigued, pointy, index finger
refuses to tap any more,
my Theory of Everything,
and my poetry, forgot, overlooked.
in my library buried,
black holed, forever silence-stored
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC
Groom Training
Get up you tired old grumpy whimper!
And take the fracken elevator
If you have to
Down to the kitchen
And eat the breakfast
That people who have already been up
For three hours
Have made for you
If they can rise and shine
Day after day
Doesn't mean that you can
But they prove it's possible.
And probably with a lot less fuss
Shower, brush and focken shine!
It's the least you can do
Sometimes it takes
Some pretty harsh
Inner language
To get scruffy old oil tankers
Trying to navigate through an archipelago
Of any inevitably unknown future
to get moving.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 5:08 PM UTC
You tell me tales of Rio
Thailand, Fiji, Cairns and Rome
I know that you are thinking
I'm a boring stay-at-home
Here's me, so rough and scruffy
-You, impeccably dressed
I know that you expect that I'll
Be suitably impressed
But while you're clocking air miles
I'm planting trees at home
To **** up all the carbon
We have recklessly let go
And while you're busy shopping
Trying to buy your life some zest
I'm too busy laying hedges
Too be suitably impressed
I'm sorry, these things you boast of
Are not doing it for me
Not all the things that one can buy
Compare to just one tree
I really shouldn't show off - but
You see my life is truly blessed
With each flower, bird or bumble-bee
I'm suitably impressed
So stop boasting of your travels
Stop judging by the cost
If that is all you care about
Such treasures will be lost
Your obsession with your image
Your concern with money, wealth
Is ultimately certain
To affect your mental health
Just stop. Step outside into nature
It's a simply made request
I'm sure you'll see the wonder
And be suitably impressed
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 6:30 PM UTC
The first time i went to church
I was terrified
It was an old church
and bore the cracks
and tombstones to show it
I was terrified because
I was convinced
that Jesus was trapped in the attic
chained to the rafters
malnourished and wild eyed
scruffy and emaciated
our lord and savior
a sunken eyed chattering skeleton
and I didn't know why
they kept him up there
feeding him our sins
while preaching their love
like scorpions
as the herd grows larger
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 3:07 PM UTC
Sway of a tree, rope hanging down.
Swing, crack, swing, feet graze the ground.
Scruffy old shoes, laces like the rope,
If only you had known that you still had so much hope
Pill Popper, made you feel.
You needed someone to know that this pain was real
Swing, crack, swing, go the branches above you
They called out with the wind and begged you not to
Mutated in the brain, lay the mangled secret
And it whispered to you softly Keep it, keep it, keep it.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
i saw a little dog he was on the roam
he looked like a stray looking for a home
routing through the bins looking for a treat
hoping he could find something there to eat
he looked very thin as scruffy as can be
so i called him over an took him home with me.
i gave the dog a bath brushed his knotted hair
there were lots of knots they were everywhere.
then i got a bowl filled it with some meat
mixed it up with biscuits a proper doggy treat
the little dog was happy he had found a home
somewhere he could live and didnt have to roam.
dog he settled down as happy as can be
and i love him so he means the world to me.
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
But I'd rather be where you are, in New York City.
Able to feel the crisp air turning my cheeks pink
and chilling my little knuckles,
to feel you wrap around me as I shudder with every tiny snowflake.
I'd rather be walking along the streets,
with every stoplight in our favor and every cafe open,
welcoming us in for coffee and cake.
I'd prefer you in a long black pea coat and you prefer me in green.
I'd rather it be near Christmas time in the empty part of the city,
where no one can hear you whisper to me.
I'd rather the bakery scents draw us nearer and nearer,
through the park,
down the alleys,
to the heart of Manhattan
and capture us with pungent tarts and little pastries,
waiting,
wishing.
I'd rather you kiss away the crumbs from my cheek
and feel your scruffy jaw against my neck.
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 6:11 PM UTC
Tis the season to be falling
Tis the season to be gay
Tis the season to be flying
Higher, farther, away ~
Chains loosened she calls to her mother
An earthy musk, grains of sand, mud on her face. A scruffy mutt laying listlessly on the tarmac, ribs rattling with the effort of each breath. She is home.
Muted flames thrashing in its cage, raging in the midst of civilization, a crucifixion of sorts. Tearing at its hair wildly, the masses trickling by, mouth agape in a silent scream. Ashes mixed into pieces of scalp, begging to be found.
Oblivious to a sound like thunder, clapping in one's ears. Strangled scream lost in translation, a language so old none could decipher. Fear wielding urgency, a disguise of desperation, depression.
Refusing to be still.
Dec 17, 2022
Dec 17, 2022 at 5:16 AM UTC
I found myself missing you
Craving the sound of your voice
And the taste of your neck
And the feeling of your fingers
Tracing the edge of my scruffy jawline
And That look in your eyes that reflects
All of your Californian dreams
And that's when I realized
I Love You
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
Everyday as I walk down the street,
I see a boy walking on a thin rope
He is ***** and very skinny
His clothes are wrinkled
His hair is scruffy
But I could see so much in him
The people watch
As the tightrope walker walks
Yet I stare amorously
Trying to figure out his story
I am in love with the tightrope walker
And one day,
I will walk the rope
With him...
And I will tell him
What my heart is telling me
Because past that tightrope walker,
Is a boy I once knew
Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 5:55 PM UTC
Why can't I disrespect her situation and utilize manipulation!!!?
****
(Agitation)
How can I make her lacerate
Leaving him to **********
While her and I gravitate
(Aggravation)
Am I wrong for trying to captivate?
To cause a tragedy
So that I can place her in my cavity
Count on their delinquency
So that I can hit the jackpot like treasury
I must put a result to their destiny
When I see their pictures
My jaws quiver
She needs to be hither
I'm thinking I should be sly
And slither
Or should I be blatant and invite her to dinner?
Right in the face of her mister
Excuse me ma'am
Have you ever seen otters afloat the waters?
When I see it in my studies
I always get cuddly
I have a California king with only blankets to cover me
I have no buddy
I have friends
But no ones lovely
Can we hover the lake
Holding hands so that we won't
Drift away
You will be cute as the otters
I don't know why would I even bother
No groom; I'm all scruffy
I look ok alone
But you gone make me look ugly
Or
Come here
Hug me
Is this your hubby?
That's why his shoulders is shrugging?
And his face is mugging?
He know if you escape his disgrace and come to my cubby
He'll be in the hole
Ain't that right man? (Directed to him)
What's your name?
Stan?
Hey how are you doing Stanley
I'm digging your girl like my last name is Yelnats
And I'm trying not to disrespect
But it's testing
You have the great big book of everything
And a queen who can be on the cover of King because she's ****
But look at you
How'd you do it?
Here you go take my number down and dial whenever he's around so he can know where you're about to go
See you later
Which approach is better?
I like both
Should I be smooth or rude?
I have to make up my mind soon so that I can make my move
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 10:39 PM UTC