"shifters" poems - Hello Poetry

"shifters" poems

One night I was a werewolf, but that got out of hand. One night you were a peach, but I preferred fresh over canned. The blood scent was strong and on your collar, or was it spaghetti sauce? We meandered in the lost city of angels, but those women in the maternity ward were better shape-shifters. Couldn't see if the moon was full against the polluted skyline, (but I bet it wasn't). Then somewhere down the tracks, the howler (that's you), half a dream away on some deserted block, and flat on your back like a pancake, with the nightmares stacking up, and dripping with strawberry syrup. Or was it blood? (I bet it wasn't).

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Mar 20, 2021

Mar 20, 2021 at 8:28 PM UTC

Where Oh Werewolf!

One night I was a werewolf, but that got out of hand. One night you were a peach, but I preferred fresh over canned. The blood scent was strong and on your collar, or was it spaghetti sauce? We meandered in the lost city of angels, but those women in the maternity ward were better shape-shifters. Couldn't see if the moon was full against the polluted skyline, (but I bet it wasn't). Then somewhere down the tracks, the howler (that's you), half a dream away on some deserted block, and flat on your back like a pancake, with the nightmares stacking up, and dripping with strawberry syrup. Or was it blood? (I bet it wasn't).

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we have to realize our ideals shape our world change our consumption fueled capitalist mindset of oppression, poverty, power and aren't we all human? why tear down other nations? why tear down the trees, Mother Earth - the heavens? will our greed end? we create our greed and why? we can create all we dream - we have power, we have steam we are trains, imaginatively stuck to rails of society; what will i be? will i marry? will i have money? when we are truly h o v e r i n g there are no chains no restrictions to our peace, serenity, wholeness, oneness. the only question we need ask is: will we be happy? or are we creating a world in which our children will even be healthy? i fear. i fear for the lives of many. will we realize our power? we must for we are shifters we are dreamers we are artists, creators. we are angels; we are alive.

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Jan 11, 2014

Jan 11, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC

we have to realize our ideals shape our world change our consumption fueled capitalist mindset of oppression, poverty, power and aren't we all human? why tear down other nations? why tear down the trees, Mother Earth - the heavens? will our greed end? we create our greed and why? we can create all we dream - we have power, we have steam we are trains, imaginatively stuck to rails of society; what will i be? will i marry? will i have money? when we are truly h o v e r i n g there are no chains no restrictions to our peace, serenity, wholeness, oneness. the only question we need ask is: will we be happy? or are we creating a world in which our children will even be healthy? i fear. i fear for the lives of many. will we realize our power? we must for we are shifters we are dreamers we are artists, creators. we are angels; we are alive.

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What is it, that you could want from me, my friend? We walk along as shape-shifters; Flickering, ephemeral forms. Starting a labyrinth from opposite ends, we hope to meet at the heart. The strategy you follow and the actions I take will never agree though. I know you will keep left, and I will circle endless maps, waiting for you to find me. Because that is what you do; you find me. I need your shelter, when I’m drowning in thorns, spiny hedges, out of shape; twisting and curling their brambles around me. What is it, that you could want from me, sweet lover? Moth to flame; shadows to the light; a starving creature to the scent of fresh blood; you gaze and crave and advance, lost in heat. I simply lean and wait to find you wanting. Wanting the same crazed thing every other man wants from me. You are of the same mould; burn the same; hurt me the same; excite me the same. But that is not an invitation. I welcome the thrill; but I also shiver at the chill you let in as you enter; leaving the door open to a blizzard. What is it, that you could want from me, lovely admirer? I struggle to cover up my holes and gaping wounds before you eye me. You like my insecurity; you feed off my uncertainty. You can sway me like no other. Because you have seen those weak spots under my skin and feathers. And you show me you like them. You warm the air around me, everything shimmers and is soft to the touch. I’m safe moving into your arms until you show me truly what you are. Scaly, coiled as a spring, rough, grazing and cutting my skin. You’re a snake that charmed me into harm. Stop admiring me, It’s worth so little I could be better without it. What is it, that you could yearn for in my presence, my love? Long, slow days wrapped in each other. Excitement buries itself into expectation. Into routine. I know you’re there when I call. I know you sense my tears building, before I do. I know you already understand the words yet to tumble from my mouth; dirtying the floor and reeking of loss. Why yearn, when you already have been given what you need? Why moan and cry at my feet, hurting, when you’ve already taken what you need? It’s only need. It’s not desire, or dreams. It’s physical, real, and I’m the lost one thinking it was different. Maybe, one day my love, I’ll be the one to yearn instead. Loud enough that it will shudder and surge through your skin. Enough that you can give back to me. What is it, truly, that you want?

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Aug 2, 2016

Aug 2, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC

Wanting From Another

What is it, that you could want from me, my friend? We walk along as shape-shifters; Flickering, ephemeral forms. Starting a labyrinth from opposite ends, we hope to meet at the heart. The strategy you follow and the actions I take will never agree though. I know you will keep left, and I will circle endless maps, waiting for you to find me. Because that is what you do; you find me. I need your shelter, when I’m drowning in thorns, spiny hedges, out of shape; twisting and curling their brambles around me. What is it, that you could want from me, sweet lover? Moth to flame; shadows to the light; a starving creature to the scent of fresh blood; you gaze and crave and advance, lost in heat. I simply lean and wait to find you wanting. Wanting the same crazed thing every other man wants from me. You are of the same mould; burn the same; hurt me the same; excite me the same. But that is not an invitation. I welcome the thrill; but I also shiver at the chill you let in as you enter; leaving the door open to a blizzard. What is it, that you could want from me, lovely admirer? I struggle to cover up my holes and gaping wounds before you eye me. You like my insecurity; you feed off my uncertainty. You can sway me like no other. Because you have seen those weak spots under my skin and feathers. And you show me you like them. You warm the air around me, everything shimmers and is soft to the touch. I’m safe moving into your arms until you show me truly what you are. Scaly, coiled as a spring, rough, grazing and cutting my skin. You’re a snake that charmed me into harm. Stop admiring me, It’s worth so little I could be better without it. What is it, that you could yearn for in my presence, my love? Long, slow days wrapped in each other. Excitement buries itself into expectation. Into routine. I know you’re there when I call. I know you sense my tears building, before I do. I know you already understand the words yet to tumble from my mouth; dirtying the floor and reeking of loss. Why yearn, when you already have been given what you need? Why moan and cry at my feet, hurting, when you’ve already taken what you need? It’s only need. It’s not desire, or dreams. It’s physical, real, and I’m the lost one thinking it was different. Maybe, one day my love, I’ll be the one to yearn instead. Loud enough that it will shudder and surge through your skin. Enough that you can give back to me. What is it, truly, that you want?

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we're all shape shifters. we put on weight and give off heat. we spit on the sidewalk and **** up air. holy **** do we **** up air. like they stopped making it, or something. and when we sweat it evaporates into rain. in the composting blast furnace of our guts we reduce and deconstruct. we take the good and turn the rest into **** and we apply this same learned approach to our fellow shape shifters.

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Jan 19, 2011

Jan 19, 2011 at 7:28 PM UTC

**** up air/it's raining sweat

we're all shape shifters. we put on weight and give off heat. we spit on the sidewalk and **** up air. holy **** do we **** up air. like they stopped making it, or something. and when we sweat it evaporates into rain. in the composting blast furnace of our guts we reduce and deconstruct. we take the good and turn the rest into **** and we apply this same learned approach to our fellow shape shifters.

Continue reading...

Hush my little one They might hear We must be silent Not let them find us For they never understand They hate who we are Always hunting us We try to survive But still they come They always do So in the shadows Do we now dwell Reduced to hiding From these mortals We may die in thirst I say we must rebel For we are stronger Shape shifters With naught to dear Let us rise in freedom Remember little one How they killed her The way your mother Was taken from us When they found out How can we fight back They have too many weapons Different ways to **** us We can only use the night But they can use the day How can I not recall My dearest father The way she died The cruelty of it all Never feeding on them Ripping her from our coven Leaving us in eternal misery Of a loss forever engraved Yet, I can not shake My deep thirst for revenge I am tired my little one Feeling my true age For too many centuries This was my existence Now you must carry on My life is slowly fading The coldness is close You have fed from me So you can be strong Goodbye my little one My father now gone The ultimate sacrifice Of an undying love For his only daughter Lost now am I - alone A curse once bestowed By the dark of night Never to return To the day of light Losing all I have loved With new found strength I now hold - I will seek The one who cursed us In this living nightmare For time is now immortal Through the silence Of the nights calling I shall fight, with might Striking - taking down The prince of the night

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Mar 28, 2015

Mar 28, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC

489: Silent Rage In Darkness (by Lucy Martins and Chris Smith)

Hush my little one They might hear We must be silent Not let them find us For they never understand They hate who we are Always hunting us We try to survive But still they come They always do So in the shadows Do we now dwell Reduced to hiding From these mortals We may die in thirst I say we must rebel For we are stronger Shape shifters With naught to dear Let us rise in freedom Remember little one How they killed her The way your mother Was taken from us When they found out How can we fight back They have too many weapons Different ways to **** us We can only use the night But they can use the day How can I not recall My dearest father The way she died The cruelty of it all Never feeding on them Ripping her from our coven Leaving us in eternal misery Of a loss forever engraved Yet, I can not shake My deep thirst for revenge I am tired my little one Feeling my true age For too many centuries This was my existence Now you must carry on My life is slowly fading The coldness is close You have fed from me So you can be strong Goodbye my little one My father now gone The ultimate sacrifice Of an undying love For his only daughter Lost now am I - alone A curse once bestowed By the dark of night Never to return To the day of light Losing all I have loved With new found strength I now hold - I will seek The one who cursed us In this living nightmare For time is now immortal Through the silence Of the nights calling I shall fight, with might Striking - taking down The prince of the night

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Tobias. A handsome, broad-shouldered man with soft earth-brown eyes, that lived in 18th century England, who then came to America with his mother and father plus his eight brothers. He would die of fever at the age of 23. After he died, he did not move on to the afterlife, instead he was chosen by a group of elders called The Guard. As a Guardian, he was tasked a keeper of human lives selected by The Guards' standards as 'changers,' or humans that change the course of history. Tobias rejected his forced calling and attempted to abandon his task. The oldest of The Guard, Helten, a man thousands of years old (only looking 40), approached him and asked a simple question, "Why do you want to truly die?" Tobias was silent, until Helton added, "There is a Shift after your changer." Shifters, or Shifts, are the enemies of the Guardians and their mission is to destroy all changers so that Shifts can take their place and change the world to their liking. Tobias added gruffly, "Which one?" "Daniel." Tobias' hand squeezed into a fist. He hated Daniel ever since the 1920's. He wanted a rematch since that idiot tried to **** his charge for a cigarette. Tobias wanted to punch him. Hard. His eyes flashed crimson, and his fists turned blue flame. "Where is he?!" Daniel growled. Helton smirked, "Pennslyvania."

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Dec 20, 2014

Dec 20, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC

Tobias the Guardian

Tobias. A handsome, broad-shouldered man with soft earth-brown eyes, that lived in 18th century England, who then came to America with his mother and father plus his eight brothers. He would die of fever at the age of 23. After he died, he did not move on to the afterlife, instead he was chosen by a group of elders called The Guard. As a Guardian, he was tasked a keeper of human lives selected by The Guards' standards as 'changers,' or humans that change the course of history. Tobias rejected his forced calling and attempted to abandon his task. The oldest of The Guard, Helten, a man thousands of years old (only looking 40), approached him and asked a simple question, "Why do you want to truly die?" Tobias was silent, until Helton added, "There is a Shift after your changer." Shifters, or Shifts, are the enemies of the Guardians and their mission is to destroy all changers so that Shifts can take their place and change the world to their liking. Tobias added gruffly, "Which one?" "Daniel." Tobias' hand squeezed into a fist. He hated Daniel ever since the 1920's. He wanted a rematch since that idiot tried to **** his charge for a cigarette. Tobias wanted to punch him. Hard. His eyes flashed crimson, and his fists turned blue flame. "Where is he?!" Daniel growled. Helton smirked, "Pennslyvania."

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Every night when i close my eyes, I enter a Virtual Wonderland. A world unlike any other. A world where anything is possible. A world where pigs can fly. A world where men are shape-shifters. Anything I please. But when I'm troubled, This world becomes a Virtual Hell. A world unlike any other. A world where anything is possible. A world where pigs fall from the sky, wings burning. A world where men have gone wrong. Nothing i please. When i come to grasp reality again, I roll over and cry. My life, even in my sleep, is tormented.

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Dec 8, 2011

Dec 8, 2011 at 8:02 PM UTC

andrew-t-hannah

Every night when i close my eyes, I enter a Virtual Wonderland. A world unlike any other. A world where anything is possible. A world where pigs can fly. A world where men are shape-shifters. Anything I please. But when I'm troubled, This world becomes a Virtual Hell. A world unlike any other. A world where anything is possible. A world where pigs fall from the sky, wings burning. A world where men have gone wrong. Nothing i please. When i come to grasp reality again, I roll over and cry. My life, even in my sleep, is tormented.

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why must i be so angry at you your quiet heart sang to me the sweet exotic flutes humming through my eardrums relieving me of a curse that cannot be broken you are never a page in my mind conundrums collapse like a tower sphinx's are black and gold shape shifters fail to safe everything is a disgrace like puzzle pieces we fall in place silver treasures gold the most plain and simple hurts so close the hoax is coaxed in cellophane truth is a pain better symptoms for the name blaming is the game shakes in my brain thorns in my side may love go insane?

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Oct 1, 2013

Oct 1, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC

why must i be so angry at you your quiet heart sang to me the sweet exotic flutes humming through my eardrums relieving me of a curse that cannot be broken you are never a page in my mind conundrums collapse like a tower sphinx's are black and gold shape shifters fail to safe everything is a disgrace like puzzle pieces we fall in place silver treasures gold the most plain and simple hurts so close the hoax is coaxed in cellophane truth is a pain better symptoms for the name blaming is the game shakes in my brain thorns in my side may love go insane?

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She's that star, *not like the others the one that's a diamond, the one that always shines the brightest the Northern star*, forcing its presence on the world it looks upon. Black and white, *shades of grey moods alter and change, wolves of the night, shape shifters of the underworld*, another passer by of this unholy night where she retreats. Daylight illuminates, *all around her, eyes flicker adjusting to the light, lifting her naked body she hears her name called out*, voices under the bed, that reside inside her head. She grasps tightly, *the throw she has covered herself in, steps over to the window, as the cameras flash like shooting stars*, but this isn't a beautiful night sky, these are vultures feeding on her. Disgruntled, *she bows her head and walks away, towards the bathroom glancing in the mirror, make up still worn, a tear drop smudged*, and eyes like a panda, green hazel blurred reflection. Another day dawned, *another dollar earned, another call to her phone as Autumn falls to Winter, another tour winds down*, liberating her voice sending her heart back home to those loved. Home holds her heart, *family ties so fixed, friends as family, water as thick as blood, her values are what make her that keep her tied to the ground*, where balloons could easily lift her into the sky. A fear of the unknown, *who am I without, the fans and the mayhem endless travels and flights, jet lag and a schedule so full, a zombie in sight*, letting go won't come easy, but there is so much more she can be. Time is a healer, *her solitude her retreat, the glow of the night sky from her loft house balcony the hum of the traffic*, the smoke of a blunt lipstick stained, there's just her. © Sia Jane

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Nov 1, 2013

Nov 1, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC

Delayed Devotion

She's that star, *not like the others the one that's a diamond, the one that always shines the brightest the Northern star*, forcing its presence on the world it looks upon. Black and white, *shades of grey moods alter and change, wolves of the night, shape shifters of the underworld*, another passer by of this unholy night where she retreats. Daylight illuminates, *all around her, eyes flicker adjusting to the light, lifting her naked body she hears her name called out*, voices under the bed, that reside inside her head. She grasps tightly, *the throw she has covered herself in, steps over to the window, as the cameras flash like shooting stars*, but this isn't a beautiful night sky, these are vultures feeding on her. Disgruntled, *she bows her head and walks away, towards the bathroom glancing in the mirror, make up still worn, a tear drop smudged*, and eyes like a panda, green hazel blurred reflection. Another day dawned, *another dollar earned, another call to her phone as Autumn falls to Winter, another tour winds down*, liberating her voice sending her heart back home to those loved. Home holds her heart, *family ties so fixed, friends as family, water as thick as blood, her values are what make her that keep her tied to the ground*, where balloons could easily lift her into the sky. A fear of the unknown, *who am I without, the fans and the mayhem endless travels and flights, jet lag and a schedule so full, a zombie in sight*, letting go won't come easy, but there is so much more she can be. Time is a healer, *her solitude her retreat, the glow of the night sky from her loft house balcony the hum of the traffic*, the smoke of a blunt lipstick stained, there's just her. © Sia Jane

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A poet is the cracked spine of your favorite novel. As you begin to peer inside, words fly out from every direction. Sentences you can't make out and phrases you can't even begin to recognize. His mind is a dusty dictionary of all sorts. A poet resembles the tide that rises and falls just as your heartbeat does with every syllable he breathes out. Corals scrape your legs and fish nip at your feet yet you linger in the water. A poet is a pastel picture frame. Amazing how 4 corners can freeze the sparkles in your eyes and the grin on your lips. Feelings do not last forever so we tend to keep anger, sadness, joy & love sealed in glass, sitting on our night stand. His mind is a factory. Gears & wheels working late night shifts, making sure all periods and commas are in place. You see Poets are Tear jerkers Risk takers Shape shifters and Heart breakers

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Oct 17, 2014

Oct 17, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC

A poet is the cracked spine of your favorite novel. As you begin to peer inside, words fly out from every direction. Sentences you can't make out and phrases you can't even begin to recognize. His mind is a dusty dictionary of all sorts. A poet resembles the tide that rises and falls just as your heartbeat does with every syllable he breathes out. Corals scrape your legs and fish nip at your feet yet you linger in the water. A poet is a pastel picture frame. Amazing how 4 corners can freeze the sparkles in your eyes and the grin on your lips. Feelings do not last forever so we tend to keep anger, sadness, joy & love sealed in glass, sitting on our night stand. His mind is a factory. Gears & wheels working late night shifts, making sure all periods and commas are in place. You see Poets are Tear jerkers Risk takers Shape shifters and Heart breakers

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We can never never forget our birth right ! we among we are we who are not ****** for the demiurg's plan No one is ! self assured protegee-s are born with a silver platter beneath their behinds and golden locks around their hearts Open the gates ! to compassion to love and beauty Mems are inherently deep mims singing their song of freedom forlorn Endlessly lost in a wicked vastness of matter Dark tea time The other one - is - medica ! Heal me O'neal me Nurture our love Embrace me Yearn to be yearned (by her, by me) Give me your spirit - to fly ! for a wide while I'll lend you - my shape !

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Mar 23, 2015

Mar 23, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC

ImpeccableSpacePoetess

We can never never forget our birth right ! we among we are we who are not ****** for the demiurg's plan No one is ! self assured protegee-s are born with a silver platter beneath their behinds and golden locks around their hearts Open the gates ! to compassion to love and beauty Mems are inherently deep mims singing their song of freedom forlorn Endlessly lost in a wicked vastness of matter Dark tea time The other one - is - medica ! Heal me O'neal me Nurture our love Embrace me Yearn to be yearned (by her, by me) Give me your spirit - to fly ! for a wide while I'll lend you - my shape !

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In These Days And Times... It’s Getting HARD To Find... People On Whom... You Can TRULY RELY... !!!!! Because of The Mood... That’s Now Defining Life... !!! COMPULSORY Orders... To... PROTECT Borders... !!! CONTROLS For Souls..... Now LOSING HOPE... !!! Due To LOSING Their Jobs... And... RISING Costs... !!!!! So What Have We Got... ??? A... CORONA ROT... !!! That’s TRULY SHOCKED... And CLEARLY ROCKED... The Lives of... MANY... That Are Now UNSTEADY... !!! In THESE Days And Times... It’s Now... HARD To Find... ... TRUE Peace of Mind... Which Is Why I Write Rhymes... To... STOP My Brain... From... Going INSANE... In These CRAZY DAYS... !!!!! Because Its All A Haze... And Now The Type of Maze... That May Well Leave Some... Finding Themselves STUCK... With NO Place To RUN... !!! It’s... FAR FROM FUN... Watching Governments... Now DESTROY Freedoms... !!! Because It Now Seems... That They Want REGIMES... That ALLOW Their Teams... To DICTATE What’s Seen... And... WHO Can Speak... !!! But In Truth Isn’t That... How Its... ALWAYS BEEN... !!! Within Their So Called... “ Societies “... So Now Theories... About CONSPIRACIES... Are Those That Feed What MANY BELIEVE... But The Sheople’ OUTNUMBER... Those Who Refuse To Play The Roles... of... DUMB And DUMBER... !!! When It Comes To The Vibes... of These Days And Times... Where Racism IGNITES... Like... DYNAMITE... !!! And Is Causing FIGHTS... All Because of Black Lives... That Apparently MATTER... Once They Have... DIED... ?!? So Now There Are Countries... That Are... FAR And WIDE... !!!!! Where The Race Discussion... Is... Reaching Minds... Who Preferred To Stay Blind... To How Ignorance Functions... And STILL Affects Lives... WAY BEYOND Police Lines... !!!!! It’s... ALWAYS BEEN... What Black People Have Seen... But Suddenly... APPARENTLY... It Requires MORE TALK... Than... EVER BEFORE... ?!? But In ALL HONESTY... It’s Beginning To BORE... !!! ALL This TALK of CHANGE... From... FAMOUS Names... Who’ve Played The Game... of... Waiting For A Train... Or... BANDWAGONS... For Them To JUMP ON... !!! When They’ve Been... ... " Playing Along "... To Get To... The TOP... of These Industries... Where Racism BREATHES... Quite... EASILY...................... !!! As LONG As THEY... Were RECEIVING MONEY... !!! There’s MUCH HYPOCRISY... In Times Like These... !!! So People Should Read... ... BETWEEN The Lines... !!! BEFORE They Find Themselves ALIGNED... With The Types of... Figures... Who Are Really... SHAPE SHIFTERS... !!!!! Or In Other Words... GRIFTERS... Who Are Known To Be TRICKSTERS... !!! And... Societal WINNERS... Who Are The WORST Kind of SINNERS... !!! Sitting At... DINNERS... With The Type of Thinkers... Who Prefer To Wear BLINKERS... Than To SEE THE TRUTH... About... RACIST Moves... And The Type of ISSUES... That Now... Confuse... ?!? That Are Fuelling DARK MOODS... !!! It’s A... " WHOLE NEW WORLD "... That Now... UNFURLS... !?! And Has REARRANGED... How The Game of Life... Will Now Be... Played... !!! Which Is Why I Find... Myself Inclined... To Sit And Write Rhymes... About What Life’s Now Like... In.... “These Days And Times”....

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Aug 20, 2020

Aug 20, 2020 at 12:51 AM UTC

“These Days And Times” ... A Poem written by Big Virge 20/7/2020

In These Days And Times... It’s Getting HARD To Find... People On Whom... You Can TRULY RELY... !!!!! Because of The Mood... That’s Now Defining Life... !!! COMPULSORY Orders... To... PROTECT Borders... !!! CONTROLS For Souls..... Now LOSING HOPE... !!! Due To LOSING Their Jobs... And... RISING Costs... !!!!! So What Have We Got... ??? A... CORONA ROT... !!! That’s TRULY SHOCKED... And CLEARLY ROCKED... The Lives of... MANY... That Are Now UNSTEADY... !!! In THESE Days And Times... It’s Now... HARD To Find... ... TRUE Peace of Mind... Which Is Why I Write Rhymes... To... STOP My Brain... From... Going INSANE... In These CRAZY DAYS... !!!!! Because Its All A Haze... And Now The Type of Maze... That May Well Leave Some... Finding Themselves STUCK... With NO Place To RUN... !!! It’s... FAR FROM FUN... Watching Governments... Now DESTROY Freedoms... !!! Because It Now Seems... That They Want REGIMES... That ALLOW Their Teams... To DICTATE What’s Seen... And... WHO Can Speak... !!! But In Truth Isn’t That... How Its... ALWAYS BEEN... !!! Within Their So Called... “ Societies “... So Now Theories... About CONSPIRACIES... Are Those That Feed What MANY BELIEVE... But The Sheople’ OUTNUMBER... Those Who Refuse To Play The Roles... of... DUMB And DUMBER... !!! When It Comes To The Vibes... of These Days And Times... Where Racism IGNITES... Like... DYNAMITE... !!! And Is Causing FIGHTS... All Because of Black Lives... That Apparently MATTER... Once They Have... DIED... ?!? So Now There Are Countries... That Are... FAR And WIDE... !!!!! Where The Race Discussion... Is... Reaching Minds... Who Preferred To Stay Blind... To How Ignorance Functions... And STILL Affects Lives... WAY BEYOND Police Lines... !!!!! It’s... ALWAYS BEEN... What Black People Have Seen... But Suddenly... APPARENTLY... It Requires MORE TALK... Than... EVER BEFORE... ?!? But In ALL HONESTY... It’s Beginning To BORE... !!! ALL This TALK of CHANGE... From... FAMOUS Names... Who’ve Played The Game... of... Waiting For A Train... Or... BANDWAGONS... For Them To JUMP ON... !!! When They’ve Been... ... " Playing Along "... To Get To... The TOP... of These Industries... Where Racism BREATHES... Quite... EASILY...................... !!! As LONG As THEY... Were RECEIVING MONEY... !!! There’s MUCH HYPOCRISY... In Times Like These... !!! So People Should Read... ... BETWEEN The Lines... !!! BEFORE They Find Themselves ALIGNED... With The Types of... Figures... Who Are Really... SHAPE SHIFTERS... !!!!! Or In Other Words... GRIFTERS... Who Are Known To Be TRICKSTERS... !!! And... Societal WINNERS... Who Are The WORST Kind of SINNERS... !!! Sitting At... DINNERS... With The Type of Thinkers... Who Prefer To Wear BLINKERS... Than To SEE THE TRUTH... About... RACIST Moves... And The Type of ISSUES... That Now... Confuse... ?!? That Are Fuelling DARK MOODS... !!! It’s A... " WHOLE NEW WORLD "... That Now... UNFURLS... !?! And Has REARRANGED... How The Game of Life... Will Now Be... Played... !!! Which Is Why I Find... Myself Inclined... To Sit And Write Rhymes... About What Life’s Now Like... In.... “These Days And Times”....

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The opus begins in a tentative way Each character playing their signature phrase With gesture, with posture, with rhythm and grace The dancers then enter the stage. The conductors baton, Imposing control Directing the tempo and pace Blues jazz folk rock, rap and rounds The singers are finding a voice. The orators speak, the actors declaim Crafted prose flows from their lips While jesters and. punsters, irrepressible funsters Are gagging and cracking their quips. The master of ceremonies calls all the spots He hopes the production will gell The shifters and movers, and technical groovers Do their jobs amazingly well. The instruments thunder, brass blares, and strings soar Drums are the loudest by far Then silence descends, a pause, the applause That’s all folks, lets go to the bar.

0

Jul 19, 2010

Jul 19, 2010 at 12:45 PM UTC

david-beresford

The Share Music Concerto

The opus begins in a tentative way Each character playing their signature phrase With gesture, with posture, with rhythm and grace The dancers then enter the stage. The conductors baton, Imposing control Directing the tempo and pace Blues jazz folk rock, rap and rounds The singers are finding a voice. The orators speak, the actors declaim Crafted prose flows from their lips While jesters and. punsters, irrepressible funsters Are gagging and cracking their quips. The master of ceremonies calls all the spots He hopes the production will gell The shifters and movers, and technical groovers Do their jobs amazingly well. The instruments thunder, brass blares, and strings soar Drums are the loudest by far Then silence descends, a pause, the applause That’s all folks, lets go to the bar.

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I am lost in a space I cant claim with shape shifters playing some twisted little game and I have been pawned into the unknown Far from any sort of counsel With silent watchers eyeing my back Sizing me up to see what I lack As if I've been put to a test I cant tell if I've been granted some sort of pass or sentence As I cling to the fringes of my past Holding onto the false security I never truly had and love is lost in midst of this war Is it myself or someone else trying to settle some score? Is this heaven's gate or the fires of hell? What's one without the other? My skin bloats and swells As the sea lightly salts my skin Will I be eaten alive or am I learning to swim? The question is where I'll go from here Does the path lead to clarity or am I forever caged in confusion?

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Jun 2, 2013

Jun 2, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC

The Lost Warrior

I am lost in a space I cant claim with shape shifters playing some twisted little game and I have been pawned into the unknown Far from any sort of counsel With silent watchers eyeing my back Sizing me up to see what I lack As if I've been put to a test I cant tell if I've been granted some sort of pass or sentence As I cling to the fringes of my past Holding onto the false security I never truly had and love is lost in midst of this war Is it myself or someone else trying to settle some score? Is this heaven's gate or the fires of hell? What's one without the other? My skin bloats and swells As the sea lightly salts my skin Will I be eaten alive or am I learning to swim? The question is where I'll go from here Does the path lead to clarity or am I forever caged in confusion?

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She wore a fur coat Made of a lame prophet 'Cause she was blind. Carried my weight on her shoulders I suggested she open her eyes The rest, I had memorized. So At least when I died She was always on my mind. I was a terrible navigator In the court of god, convicted sinner. She had a hunger for shape shifters I fed her. Soon as the car started, we parked it. Leaned the seats back, fogged the doors I stared at her collarbone We didn't go far. Who could have predicted Her body in a Broken mirror I was her seer for two years Shame I couldn't see her This all could of been different. Shepard said to lamb Follow the dog, He knows the road figured god assumed My soul was cold Her soul was coal that warmed the home. The hearth, the meat, the lame, the blind. The Golden brown, leaves outside. The autumn trees like Coffeeshops call out to me She Hollows out our her dowry pollen spread like a dandelion. Polluted whole cities with seeds Memories and libraries The chalk outlines in my mind All that was left of these things. So whether you fall or fly Girl, I'll be singing If nobody listens, I'll paint the clouds. If no stare is lifted, I'll shake the ground. If everyones sleeping, I'll give them something to dream about. If nobody sees it, We already lived a life worth dreaming so who gives a **** who pays attention. Just let the lame guide the blind. Just let the lame guide the blind Just let the lame guide the blind

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Apr 7, 2018

Apr 7, 2018 at 5:50 AM UTC

The body is inoccent of sin.

She wore a fur coat Made of a lame prophet 'Cause she was blind. Carried my weight on her shoulders I suggested she open her eyes The rest, I had memorized. So At least when I died She was always on my mind. I was a terrible navigator In the court of god, convicted sinner. She had a hunger for shape shifters I fed her. Soon as the car started, we parked it. Leaned the seats back, fogged the doors I stared at her collarbone We didn't go far. Who could have predicted Her body in a Broken mirror I was her seer for two years Shame I couldn't see her This all could of been different. Shepard said to lamb Follow the dog, He knows the road figured god assumed My soul was cold Her soul was coal that warmed the home. The hearth, the meat, the lame, the blind. The Golden brown, leaves outside. The autumn trees like Coffeeshops call out to me She Hollows out our her dowry pollen spread like a dandelion. Polluted whole cities with seeds Memories and libraries The chalk outlines in my mind All that was left of these things. So whether you fall or fly Girl, I'll be singing If nobody listens, I'll paint the clouds. If no stare is lifted, I'll shake the ground. If everyones sleeping, I'll give them something to dream about. If nobody sees it, We already lived a life worth dreaming so who gives a **** who pays attention. Just let the lame guide the blind. Just let the lame guide the blind Just let the lame guide the blind

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Outskirts Denver highway panic Road pac man Find those walls kid's it's past time Four should do but the roof is optional Pull in one car Three puddles No accountability here no sane mind No innocent persuasion Red light haven Named panorama shape shifters Cracked blinds cancelled glances One room infinite timelines Leave ours with the others

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Oct 12, 2016

Oct 12, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC

Outskirts Denver highway panic Road pac man Find those walls kid's it's past time Four should do but the roof is optional Pull in one car Three puddles No accountability here no sane mind No innocent persuasion Red light haven Named panorama shape shifters Cracked blinds cancelled glances One room infinite timelines Leave ours with the others

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The plan-tackle Wretcheds The treat-splintered Hodes The monkey Non-lifters That seize oft the holes For them, did I back-break For them, did I glean To fill face-less Shifters And grifting Untweens Soon settle my Upstakes Soon twiddle my Oughts I less waste my Enjeans I less waste my thoughts No longer line Sprockets To satsply their greed I've lit my own rocket, now I'll grow my own Need

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Aug 29, 2010

Aug 29, 2010 at 7:18 PM UTC

I'll Take It From Here

The plan-tackle Wretcheds The treat-splintered Hodes The monkey Non-lifters That seize oft the holes For them, did I back-break For them, did I glean To fill face-less Shifters And grifting Untweens Soon settle my Upstakes Soon twiddle my Oughts I less waste my Enjeans I less waste my thoughts No longer line Sprockets To satsply their greed I've lit my own rocket, now I'll grow my own Need

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he shoulders shame carrying the weight of the dead, slung over him partnering with gravity, these memory moguls slow him down though he keeps trudging when one drops, another takes his place -- first his father, then a brother, stillborn not half the weight of a stone, yet his carcass bends his back like any full grown beast for he did not weep with his mother when its blue soul was yanked from her womb nor did he shed a tear when his father's heart gave out a billion beats too soon when he forgets his sins as son he recalls another one--the boy he slew on a brown river's bank; floating still in the Mekong, riddled with the rifle's rabid rounds, he often catches a ride in memory's stream leading a relay team of shame shifters he carries with him every step, though the world sees him walk alone

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Mar 27, 2017

Mar 27, 2017 at 9:13 PM UTC

yet he walks alone

he shoulders shame carrying the weight of the dead, slung over him partnering with gravity, these memory moguls slow him down though he keeps trudging when one drops, another takes his place -- first his father, then a brother, stillborn not half the weight of a stone, yet his carcass bends his back like any full grown beast for he did not weep with his mother when its blue soul was yanked from her womb nor did he shed a tear when his father's heart gave out a billion beats too soon when he forgets his sins as son he recalls another one--the boy he slew on a brown river's bank; floating still in the Mekong, riddled with the rifle's rabid rounds, he often catches a ride in memory's stream leading a relay team of shame shifters he carries with him every step, though the world sees him walk alone

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Can't tell you. However, lettuce Seigh: You can't plan A poem any More than being Spontaneous Or Preparing for the Tornado That will randomly Hit your home town 300 miles and 4.5 hours Aweigh! A poem has Pre-existence: Like I used to, before I went to a picnic with Dad and left with Mom Poems are unborn Twinkles in God's I Virtual, string- Tree-like things Screaming, Who-like: "I'm here! I'm HERE! Just THINK ME ALIVE! That will be born As thoughts (I think) Poems are the Idea-seeds, already Planted in the fertile Brain-soil, and ideas Are the paradigm- Shifters of the Universe.

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Aug 24, 2014

Aug 24, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC

Can't tell you. However, lettuce Seigh: You can't plan A poem any More than being Spontaneous Or Preparing for the Tornado That will randomly Hit your home town 300 miles and 4.5 hours Aweigh! A poem has Pre-existence: Like I used to, before I went to a picnic with Dad and left with Mom Poems are unborn Twinkles in God's I Virtual, string- Tree-like things Screaming, Who-like: "I'm here! I'm HERE! Just THINK ME ALIVE! That will be born As thoughts (I think) Poems are the Idea-seeds, already Planted in the fertile Brain-soil, and ideas Are the paradigm- Shifters of the Universe.

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Well It Seems That These Days... That FAKES And SNAKES... Are ALL OVER THE PLACE... !?! From Those With Names... Now Claiming... FAME... To Those Who Partake... In The Political Frame... Where What They DISPLAY... Are Political Games... That Are A DISGRACE... And Have NO SHAME... !!! In... Displaying Ways... That Are INHUMANE... !!! FAKING And TAKING... In Ways That Be SHAKING... People Til’ They’re QUAKING... In MORE Than Their Boots... !!! Now CORONA Has PUSHED... Folks Into Their Rooms... !!! ISOLATED And Confused... By This Corona Flu... !!! And Of Course The FAKE News... That’s Now Claimed To Be TRUE... ?!? I Need To CHECK That Line... Cos’ That Doesn’t Seem Right... Cos If The News Is FAKE... ? It’s CLEARLY Run By SNAKES... And The Types Who LIE... EVERY DAY of Their Life... !!! One Has To Wonder WHY... ?!? Well These CORPORATE Guys... Women AND Their Wives... Are Now CLEARLY Displaying... A Wish To Be MAKING... Instead of Now Paying... Money To Their PATRONS... Or Those At Work Stations... Because MOST Are Now VACANT... !!! ESPECIALLY Those In Tourist Destinations... That Have Now Been SHAKEN... !!! Just Like A... Bond Bar Scene... On RECURRING Rotation... !!! Where He’s Dealing With SNAKES... of The... HUMAN Shape... Whilst HE’s Being FAKE... !?! I Mean For HEAVENS SAKE... !?! I Guess The *** STIRS... When These Fakes CONFER... ? To Leave The Masses HURT... Because of Lies They Work... To Feed Chicken Like **** !!! With The Type of Spice... That Now HOTS Up Lives... !!!!! Like The REALITY Rhymes... I Now... Sit And Write... That Define What’s TRUE... NOT... Falsified Views... !!!!! Now Filling Newsrooms... And Of Course Bedrooms... Where These Alphabet Crews... Have DOCTORED The Truth... For Their Partners... WHO... CLEARLY Had NO CLUE... Who They Were Making Love To... ?!? Because These Shape Shifters... Deceived Them Like GRIFTERS... Or Snakes That SLITHER... And Leave The Truth LITTERED... !!! With POISONOUS VENOM... !!! WITHOUT Yoko Or Lennon... To Imagine Or See... Through Their FALLACIES... !!! It’s Now A TRAGEDY... ... Full of CALAMITIES... !!! WITHOUT Doris Day... !!! Cos’ Now... Humanity... Has FAR TOO MANY... Who Behave In Ways... That SHAME And DISPLACE... TRULY Being... HUMANE... It REALLY Is A SHAME... !!! To See People Behave... Like They’ve Got NO BRAIN... In This Modern Age... of The... NEW AGE SLAVE... !!! Which Is Why I Now RELATE... This Last FACTUAL CLAIM... !!! That You Should STAY AWAY... From Most People These Days... Because Nowadays... It’s CLEARLY Fair To Say... That Most Now Choose To Behave... And Sway Like Those Named... As....... ... “ FAKES And SNAKES “... !!!

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Dec 19, 2020

Dec 19, 2020 at 9:29 PM UTC

"Fakes And Snakes” ... A Poem written By Big Virge 29/7/2020

Well It Seems That These Days... That FAKES And SNAKES... Are ALL OVER THE PLACE... !?! From Those With Names... Now Claiming... FAME... To Those Who Partake... In The Political Frame... Where What They DISPLAY... Are Political Games... That Are A DISGRACE... And Have NO SHAME... !!! In... Displaying Ways... That Are INHUMANE... !!! FAKING And TAKING... In Ways That Be SHAKING... People Til’ They’re QUAKING... In MORE Than Their Boots... !!! Now CORONA Has PUSHED... Folks Into Their Rooms... !!! ISOLATED And Confused... By This Corona Flu... !!! And Of Course The FAKE News... That’s Now Claimed To Be TRUE... ?!? I Need To CHECK That Line... Cos’ That Doesn’t Seem Right... Cos If The News Is FAKE... ? It’s CLEARLY Run By SNAKES... And The Types Who LIE... EVERY DAY of Their Life... !!! One Has To Wonder WHY... ?!? Well These CORPORATE Guys... Women AND Their Wives... Are Now CLEARLY Displaying... A Wish To Be MAKING... Instead of Now Paying... Money To Their PATRONS... Or Those At Work Stations... Because MOST Are Now VACANT... !!! ESPECIALLY Those In Tourist Destinations... That Have Now Been SHAKEN... !!! Just Like A... Bond Bar Scene... On RECURRING Rotation... !!! Where He’s Dealing With SNAKES... of The... HUMAN Shape... Whilst HE’s Being FAKE... !?! I Mean For HEAVENS SAKE... !?! I Guess The *** STIRS... When These Fakes CONFER... ? To Leave The Masses HURT... Because of Lies They Work... To Feed Chicken Like **** !!! With The Type of Spice... That Now HOTS Up Lives... !!!!! Like The REALITY Rhymes... I Now... Sit And Write... That Define What’s TRUE... NOT... Falsified Views... !!!!! Now Filling Newsrooms... And Of Course Bedrooms... Where These Alphabet Crews... Have DOCTORED The Truth... For Their Partners... WHO... CLEARLY Had NO CLUE... Who They Were Making Love To... ?!? Because These Shape Shifters... Deceived Them Like GRIFTERS... Or Snakes That SLITHER... And Leave The Truth LITTERED... !!! With POISONOUS VENOM... !!! WITHOUT Yoko Or Lennon... To Imagine Or See... Through Their FALLACIES... !!! It’s Now A TRAGEDY... ... Full of CALAMITIES... !!! WITHOUT Doris Day... !!! Cos’ Now... Humanity... Has FAR TOO MANY... Who Behave In Ways... That SHAME And DISPLACE... TRULY Being... HUMANE... It REALLY Is A SHAME... !!! To See People Behave... Like They’ve Got NO BRAIN... In This Modern Age... of The... NEW AGE SLAVE... !!! Which Is Why I Now RELATE... This Last FACTUAL CLAIM... !!! That You Should STAY AWAY... From Most People These Days... Because Nowadays... It’s CLEARLY Fair To Say... That Most Now Choose To Behave... And Sway Like Those Named... As....... ... “ FAKES And SNAKES “... !!!

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Its getting about that time that we all switch pictures define ourselves in some new way write plays about the years we didn't pay attention to whilst in them. She glows. Shifts in the distance like shifters do mirrors the parts of me I cling to splices in the new shade of blue that some commoners cooked up one summer I want to move like you do I want to follow a tune that you grew up out of that dangerous mouth of yours I want to slip in unnoticed into your background I want to leave you in the wake of a spellbound insomnia silvia nightgown. I'm a remix of secret decisions that I would love to let you and your friend in. Take the tour of the wicked and old sins that I wrote when I worked for the lived-in. But she's still staring loudly at the floor. Forgetting what project I wrote for. Forgetting what score I produced. Forgetting why I haven't noosed myself quite yet. She shifts in the distance like shifters do, mirrors the parts of me I cling to.

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May 8, 2011

May 8, 2011 at 7:50 PM UTC

Its getting about that time that we all switch pictures define ourselves in some new way write plays about the years we didn't pay attention to whilst in them. She glows. Shifts in the distance like shifters do mirrors the parts of me I cling to splices in the new shade of blue that some commoners cooked up one summer I want to move like you do I want to follow a tune that you grew up out of that dangerous mouth of yours I want to slip in unnoticed into your background I want to leave you in the wake of a spellbound insomnia silvia nightgown. I'm a remix of secret decisions that I would love to let you and your friend in. Take the tour of the wicked and old sins that I wrote when I worked for the lived-in. But she's still staring loudly at the floor. Forgetting what project I wrote for. Forgetting what score I produced. Forgetting why I haven't noosed myself quite yet. She shifts in the distance like shifters do, mirrors the parts of me I cling to.

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At night time comes imagination, A land of dreams- my destination; Through nonsense, I shall form creation. Get ready for the new sensation. People always drifting Into less successful lives, But I have learned to live A way that causes much less strife. The music is my inspiration, Its message goes out strong. The meaning veers my from temptation, Although I still see others doing wrong. Wishin' I could tell them all To grasp my outstretched hand; But destiny would disagree, They all have predetermined plans. Like the children of the flowers, We hold within a power To understand the universe; Complexities and fallacies. We question our reality While shape-shifters take new forms. The delicacy of time Needs to be forewarned. The stitches are so fragile When you no longer feel bound. When you are free, you become agile Like the breezes that surround. Everything was warping, Now everything's calmed down. As I wake up to the sunshine, I could never bear to frown. My vision's become clearer. I can see the end is much less nearer. Forever I'll be strong, For I've obtained the will to live life on.

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May 18, 2010

May 18, 2010 at 2:21 PM UTC

Self Perspective

At night time comes imagination, A land of dreams- my destination; Through nonsense, I shall form creation. Get ready for the new sensation. People always drifting Into less successful lives, But I have learned to live A way that causes much less strife. The music is my inspiration, Its message goes out strong. The meaning veers my from temptation, Although I still see others doing wrong. Wishin' I could tell them all To grasp my outstretched hand; But destiny would disagree, They all have predetermined plans. Like the children of the flowers, We hold within a power To understand the universe; Complexities and fallacies. We question our reality While shape-shifters take new forms. The delicacy of time Needs to be forewarned. The stitches are so fragile When you no longer feel bound. When you are free, you become agile Like the breezes that surround. Everything was warping, Now everything's calmed down. As I wake up to the sunshine, I could never bear to frown. My vision's become clearer. I can see the end is much less nearer. Forever I'll be strong, For I've obtained the will to live life on.

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Most are shifters few are stayers

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Jul 30, 2019

Jul 30, 2019 at 9:57 PM UTC

SHIFTERS AND STAYERS

Most are shifters few are stayers

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Star to let to a cat-lover and friend of less perfect dahlias, to putter-outers of unwashed milk bottles, to curtain shifters and spectacle sinkers, to all those gods of Victoria's terraces all waiting for the flat upstairs.

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Sep 13, 2015

Sep 13, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC

leslie-philibert

Star to let to a cat-lover and friend of less perfect dahlias, to putter-outers of unwashed milk bottles, to curtain shifters and spectacle sinkers, to all those gods of Victoria's terraces all waiting for the flat upstairs.

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The light spills through the glass window in the kitchen and Drapes itself over countertops and linoleum floors curves around edges like a contortionist shadows now lovely shape shifters An artist in itself, everything is beautiful for a little while

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Oct 28, 2013

Oct 28, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC

The light spills through the glass window in the kitchen and Drapes itself over countertops and linoleum floors curves around edges like a contortionist shadows now lovely shape shifters An artist in itself, everything is beautiful for a little while

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