"silliness" poems
a love poem, of new & old,
why I am the summer-man!^
summer is winding down,
sky’s multi blues freezer safe stored in ziplock see thru bags,
marked and named by hue, the where and the when,
so when the eyes finally fail, when the squinting don’t help,
when the good things those good blues aroused,
poems, lush and morning thanks for being alive come-not-at-all,
quite the opposite, these cold blues
may help, to recall why it was worth breathing
summer is winding down,
so am I, the synchrony no accident, time,
the Pharmacy kitchen calendar
claiming another victim, willing or not,
those cars and the blue eyed models,
are now but blurred wishes and hopes, even these words, spoken,
not finger scribed, for the keyboard a
jumbled jungle of alpha-numerical
of confusion hellish and
my sons don’t come to clean up my pathetic messes, sending
their little children, beloved concubines of my heart
the daytime watcher, spanglish her native lingo,
tho single words she’s pretty good at too, but that don’t help much;
the grands, toddlers to pre-teens, the eldest a womanly eight,
tries but soon frustration bored, slips away quiet like
replacing her with her two year old sister, who knows her alphabet
which ain’t an exactly a help, but her five pencils stored^ nearby,
tagged with her name, awaiting her poems, her one true legacy
try to imagine her as a grandmother, farseeing the day when she
occupied this too too hard to-get-out-of-by-myself “easy” chair,
making rhymes with her next-next generational descendants,
faint remembering the silliness sorcery that I secreted in her brain;
zingo, bingo, lingo
tango, ginkgo, jingo,
** ** oh no, oh no!
ashes, gray hairy poppy is a silly,
when he is not a grumpy,
old man all fall down!
which she acts out with giggles galore,
adding a teacup embellishment,
a creme fraiche pearly teeth smile topping,
the day watcher agrees, verrry verrry funny,
but time to me *** and take a needed morning *****
no poppy! no poppy! no poppy!
no nap, no *** no *****
thinking the call out is for her,
stomping her feet in an alternating rhythm and rhymes
I, happy poppy, ecstatics drooling out,
foreseeing the rhyme is strong in her,
get wheeled away crinkled and crackling,
*zingo, bingo, lingo
tango, ginkgo, jingo
** ** oh no, oh no!
ashes gray hairy poppy is a silly,
when he is not a grumpy,
old man all fall down!*
a new genre me of gibberish summertime love poems
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 5:11 PM UTC
Samhain time
spirits are free
***** and lime
share our company
Smirking at our silliness
smugly knowing we'd scream
if they showed a willingness
to swim in our stream
If there feeling naughty
we'll experience a feeling
something wierd and creepy
our senses left reeling
We'll put it down to atmosphere
or wishful thinking
truth if we knew would cause fear
our hearts sinking
So leave them alone
it's their moment
cause them to groan
and you they'll torment
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 8:58 AM UTC
Happiness bled all over my bathtub.
Silliness dried at my feet.
But maybe it's just the parts that we're made of.
Maybe that's all that we mean.
And dreaming suddenly preferred me.
And themes suddenly addressed me
Mirrors and make-up, tripped over playing cards.
Drowned in the chivalry,
Heroes and worshiped gods that were made up,
furrowed their brows at me.
And dreaming suddenly preferred me.
And themes suddenly addressed me.
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC
Dear, let me tenderize you like meat slap the silliness from heat bubbling bubbling bubbling to a boil.
Dear, let me technically arouse you by letting each word escape like exasperation, a depletion of the senses as every finger or pressure point examines your body from head-to-toe.
Dear, let me be no longer ashamed to touch or hold you close, let our breathing and beating submerge into higher thinking.
Incinerating flames that lick the grate.
Dear, let me dive deep into the crevice of your brain, all mushy grey matter, all the same.
Dear, let me slice it open and **** out all the juices, licking licking licking each curve and crevice,
My supple pink snake-like tongue reaching deeper deeper deeper into your mind.
Dear, let me sink into your reality, bit by bit, and piece by piece until cohesiveness lays its eggs inside the deep hole within you.
Dear, let me scratch the surface, trading dimes for dust and pecs for fluff.
Let me swim in the depths of your hectic personality.
Let me get to know you and all your originality.
Let me breathe in your values and slurp up your mature decisions.
Let me caress your life like two bulbous lights that hang from the existence of time.
Let me illuminate you, serenade you, quiz you while ********* your sense of self-esteem.
Dear, let me dream your dreams.
Dear, let me sink my ***** mind games into your wet social brain.
Don’t let the pressure get to you.
Passion may play a key part in the sway!
Let me suckle your sweet thoughts, play with your deriving initiatives.
Let me hold your ideas in the sweat of my thighs, burning with desire to see myself through cobalt eyes.
Let me feel the hot ***** of your ethical intentions and clear apparitions.
Let me analyze your prerogatives and **** with your distribution methods.
Dear, let me fiddle with your political views, (in the “other room”) and tickle your soft solutions on creating a world of doom.
Let me ****** your sustainability, flirt with your progressive mindset, and squeeze your plump ambitions until they burst!
Dear, let me push gently on your sensitive issues with your parents until they become less apparent.
Let me stroke your disagreements with foreign policy until they shriek with mercy!
Let me take you further and touch your blind senses to a pink paranoia of retentive defensive pretenses.
Let me cuddle and snuggle your sense of self-worth and pleasure your brain with mind-bending words.
Dear, let me dance with your intelligence
until we sink into oblivious mind-sex bliss…….
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
I may have loved you too much,
but;
A part of me still loves you to this day
Your sweetness allures me so,
Like honeyed days we’d stare without shame
You were irresistible to my heart and I knew trouble cornered me
I’d shoo away the laughable thoughts,
Aiming to mail you a letter of love
To which you’d open it fresh with a scented kiss
Flower petals would descend from your heart
Your cheeks adopted a sunflower
The stars entertained you that night
You told me you always dreamed of late evenings
Informing me of the curtain of constellations
That you’d like to sleep soundly in
Of course I’d be willing to offer you anything in return of your smile
And the night we escaped, you gasped softly at the surprise
Your simple happiness was all one romantic would need
No matter where we dreamed,
Together we are one
Standing besides one another
Fate draws near, echoing our future
Your bleakness eats me devastatingly
Tomorrow we are still...one being
But overseas, I send you my farewells
So that you are found in perfect health
And that we consume truly divine harmonies
Made only for the sweetened couples
Whose stories fade ever so forlornly in the past
I love you brightly as the sun
You illuminate my pathways
But one kiss erases my existence
Continue to please those around you;
Without me, the world withers
Please remember my love,
And be gentle with it
For it is delicate as the world
My eyes see a star
But yours fail to see within that darkness
The gloom that retreats before you arrive
I am part of that campaign
An honorable being among the troops
Yet your continuous ignorance saddens me so
See me now,
Find me wanderlust in this world
And somewhere, we can swiftly enrapture ourselves
Whether it be in the meadows of glistening rays
Or the places that calmly send the earth into slumber
Wherever we are destined, I’ll always be there for you
Even if tonight’s curtain unsheathes
And you are no longer the image of love,
But rather, a friend I could love with silliness on languid days and somber nights.
Dec 8, 2021
Dec 8, 2021 at 4:10 AM UTC
We had another date, for me a quality time
A situation I always want to have
We shared our laughter with our silliness
Sweetheart, you're my greatest gift from above!
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
Your hair is thick and dark
evergreen branches that glide
against lilac petals
made of powdered sugar.
I wish your hands were not so rough,
when you mold my body out of clay
you leave divots, not as deep
as tire tracks in snow
but tiny deer prints
left behind in secret
the kind where the mystery
makes you follow them into the thicket.
Strum that song again,
the one you played, laughing
at the silliness of knowing
every chord, even though we both
silently love it. Don't talk to me
about intimacy problems
because you know I would have
loved you, more
then children with fried dough
the kind that comes from county
fairs
and you can't look at me
like that, with painful eyes
'cause we're both guilty.
What happens to women without
men?
Running fingers over bare
hills, hoping to once again
be covered with fur trees
thick and dark. So catch me
with those that match
your pea coat that smells
sweetly of cigarettes
and stories only known
by haylofts and cotton pillows.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 8:11 PM UTC
There are so many nights that are so vehemency important.
And so many nights that are not.
Yet the most important are the nights that never happened.
The nights silenced by fear or tiredness or silliness.
The nights that are pounding on doors of regret.
The nights that haunt in their wake.
Because they could have meant something.
And because things rarely do these days.
-
*"It would have destroyed me if you said hello, it would have ******* killed me."*
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 8:25 PM UTC
The compass turns
spinning around to find its correct course
and where the arrow points
we follow
I close my eyes
stretch out my arm, finger pointing straight
I turn
Spin
Laugh
and eventually
fall from dizziness
Still my finger points
directly at the path I did not want to take
but even my silliness knew it was the correct course
Sometimes it pays to be childish
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 10:19 PM UTC
I remember
You were walking to the fire pit with that stupid, wonderful, lost little boy look in your eyes
I remember
We talked about dirt bikes
I remember
You laughed at pretty much everything every single one of us said
I remember thinking
"Man, shut the hell up, already!"
I remember the next several weeks
You annoyed the hell outta me
I DON'T remember the day you first felt like a friend
I DO remember all the things you taught me
Laughter
Like all the joy in the world is bubbling directly through your soul
Silliness
Letting the world think you're crazy when all you're doing is having fun
Gentleness
Letting go of yourself and doing the right thing for the sake of others, so that they may feel..
Love
A friendship so full, deep, and rich; the first time we saw each other after several months all we could do was laugh
Literally
For like fifteen minutes straight
You made my soul feel whole
I don't remember when we started to drift
I don't recall the day it began
But suddenly, I realized I was losing my best man
I tried so hard to clutch you in my hands!
But you continue to slip through my fingers like sand
Slowly, slowly you disappear
And sometimes I catch a glimpse
A frail, fleeting glimpse
So intact and incredible
It is but a glimpse
Then away you go
Where you glow and you glow and you glow and you glow
For someone else to know
And I'm having a hard time letting go
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
A gaggle of glamour girls,
Debutantes of Times gone by.
With talk of Aruba,
White Sands and clear blue waters,
Spoken to inspire jealousy to all those around.
And of organization,
Motherhood and label makers,
Construction of pigeon holes for every part of life.
And the Latino Girl at work,
Whispers of the lasciviousness of a life unknown,
In the silliness of two glasses of white wine each.
I smoke a barrier between them and me.
In an effusive hurried rush they leave,
In search of sustenance of the soul,
In search of Sisterhood.
I sit in a Dewar’s drought.
She walks by and grazes her fingertips across my back,
A touch of familiarity,
A touch that I long for.
Gently, I speak,
Within this microcosm,
You stand as Aphrodite.
Smiling, she goes about her work.
I return the appreciation,
The warmth of bad bourbon,
Exuding from my pores.
Cause I sit in a Dewar’s drought.
They sit down in the virility of youth,
Testosterone tilted hats,
Speaking the language of Poser Street,
In the melody of white noise.
Showcasing the uniforms of a self-created culture.
I turn and tune them out.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC
We're dancing on a
knife's edge,
you and I.
You know it - I can see
the sparkle in your eye.
But do we care? I suppose
there's somewhere deep
down in
where mind sits at its desk
and all the glaring danger signs
flash red.
But on the surface, there's a
bit of gold in knowing
where we stand
for now,
and being free to dance the line
with comfort in your friendship yet
excited
all the same.
We know where we stand:
it's not together,
so we're free to tap the
dance floor lightly
and
smile into the night,
because our words are sparring
in -
well, let's say they
might have crossed the line.
But just our words.
We two?
We're standing side by side
(this side of the line)
and laughing at them,
pointing out the silliness
yet somehow still content
to stay and watch them
anyway
for lingered moments that speak
more deeply
than the words themselves could ever do.
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 4:46 PM UTC
*Weathervanes with harmonically
tuned brains, took up the call to Step Lively.
Each one ecking, drop by drop,
To feed you silliness, to lighten your soul.
Wakey, wakey
Eat well
It's your Daddy, I mean attorney
You're really been being very bad.*
If you insist, I will.
Learn obedience
or patience or something
in between,
a kernal of obedience?
I'll never promise that,
in order to give it to freely.
I was afraid to let you in.
They were menacing,
stamping us into tiny little molds.
Insistent that we are,
what they think we are.
*Did they convince you
that I'd gone off and left you?*
No, changing that would require
quantum amounts of convincing.
Was not mistaken that it was you,
just attacked by encroaching apiculture
*That is how it felt,
How it feels, but subtler now.*
First course correction will be
the sliver of a melody,
Spreading like a depth charge.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 9:03 AM UTC
Four years old.
Four years old is the perfect age
To know enough about yourself
And not enough about the world.
To know everything you absolutely need to know
Before the world strips it away
And replaces it with a fake sort of knowing.
Four years old,
Old enough to recognize something that will drive you
For the rest of your life.
Four years old was I,
And four years old was he,
Mattie,
My Mattie,
When we met in the sticker-burr ridden play yard
Of a daycare,
And at four years old,
We became peaceful companions,
Slower,
Quieter,
And just a bit more odd,
Than the rest.
At four years old,
Mattie had a silliness about him,
And a funny way of talking through his missing teeth.
At four years old,
We avoided the violent, flying swings and sprinting, shrieking children,
And we scoured the outskirts of the yard
For four leaf clovers.
Mattie was a four leaf clover.
Incredible,
Unique,
And found by chance.
Because Mattie’s silliness and funny voice and missing teeth
Were not simply because we were four years old,
But because
Mattie came from a mom
Who couldn’t stop.
Mattie’s mom couldn’t stop doing drugs,
Not for a single day.
Not when her belly swelled with Mattie inside,
Not when he came into the world,
Breathing the air she did,
Drinking the milk she made,
Mattie’s mom couldn’t stop.
He was buried beneath clusters of clovers,
And his four, perfect leaves were nearly withered away,
When his parents found him.
His parents,
Two incredible women,
Who had so much love in their hearts,
They couldn’t help but let it overflow
Into the cup of a small child with bright eyes and dwindling breath.
Mattie,
My four leaf clover,
Is happy today.
Today,
Mattie,
No longer four years old,
But a man,
Is about to be a doctor.
My four leaf clover,
Who looked to his mothers like the most beautiful child that was ever born,
With the sharpest wit
And the most brilliant smile,
At the end of the day,
Is simply another clover.
His beauty and his value,
Are what we give him.
His rarity, his singularity,
Is something we create,
Something we fashion for him
Out of love and acceptance.
To this day,
I lean down and examine patches of clover,
The image of Mattie,
Gently counting leaves with chubby, toddler fingers,
Burnt into my memory.
And to this day,
I hold in my heart the hope,
That I will meet a child,
My own Mattie,
My own rarity,
My own treasure,
My own little four leaf clover.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 10:44 AM UTC
I was going to bring my pet hamster tonight.
Anyone met my pet hamster - Picasso?
He is an impressionist.
No, honestly he does all the other rodents :-
Mice, rats, capybara, Donald Trump, Prince Andrew, all of them.
Unfortunately I couldn't bring him,
because he died this afternoon.
He fell asleep at the wheel.
Aug 25, 2023
Aug 25, 2023 at 10:24 AM UTC
Oh my cheerful little ******* They hadn’t any notion
Of all the silliness, of all the commotion
One day their purpose would change
Temporarily my body would rearrange
Their use not merely ******
Suddenly they were meant to be practical
Away with my decorative commodity
Hello to something of an oddity
So I traded in those dainty little things
For two mountains bursting with springs
Slowly the transformation took place
Albeit lacking in grace
Oh, my lovely unpresumptuous *******
Had become so useful, for that I am blessed
My zippy little ****** had grown to such size
And areola darkened and saucerish in guise
So to you I must ask a serious question,
After this, my descriptive dissection
I borrowed my ******* why be afraid?
It is the babes whose homage will be paid
The ******* that had been lent, weren’t ****** or vile
You might even go so far as to beguile
Because their most typical use was on hold
Their new purpose should’ve been a sight to behold
Instead people like to glorify or shame
As if those ******* are actually the same
Forget your twisted ****** mind
And to breastfeeding mothers try to be kind
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 11:37 AM UTC
Magic mirror on the wall
tell a story, lies are fine
and so am I
just the other day a feller said
my, what great curves youu have
cars and such were never an interest
just a stupid investment
waste of time and money
late late for a very important slate
a new one
out with the old, in with the innovative
get creative
it's impossible
too broad, minds can be narrow as rails
trains pass through
rumbling, rumbling like rockslides in canyons
you in?
Fun can be naughty
not like when you're a child
no
that fun was preconceived frivolty
but this **** hear
yessir, this is real fun
you got it ***
maybe spark some interest in the papers
words with more words
darling tell me a story
make it **** good
about a princess who isn't beautiful
but still pretty, in a rather unnoticeable way
and make her a ****** who loves fire
take it up
makes me all sleepy
when your mirror talks in such silliness.
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 10:22 PM UTC
you laughed with me at these silly jokes
but I work hard telling them
my reward, how easy they make you smile
I love how the corners of your mouth
tickle your cheeks, your eyes an ecstasy squint
and if you will let me continue this silliness
I hope I can make you smile for awhile
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 9:43 PM UTC
Before fools began to recycle silliness
or love and *** became a commodity to be bought off the shelves of our desires.
Before muscle outranked intelligence
Or the loose were voted people of the year
Before a misguided girlfriend replaced a faithful wife
And hardwork was kicked out of the door by web scamming
Before *********** became only rounds of loveless ***
Common sense lived next to sanity on the street called society.
Because we were too busy watering the gardens of our stupidity
Common sense gradually lost all sense and sensibility
until there was nothing left to compose a corpse.
Very few of us attended the burial
Because almost all of us didn't realize it was gone...
Uncommon sense told you how high crack could get you
common sense agreed you were going to feel fly
But like an airplane, you'd eventually come crashing like a pack of cards.
Uncommon sense got her pregnant out of wedlock
While common sense was still preparing a future under a respectable roof.
The same society which kick against abortion
Serves the pregnant teenager a cold shoulder and self-righteous looks of disdain.
How do you ponder a picture without the painting
Or seperate the sea from the Navy?
Downloading apps to help bridge the gap between stupidy and foolishness
As the brain lies unused like an abandon project.
But like Lagbaja and his mask
The more you look, the less you see
The fool will always go shopping but will never put wisdom in the basket.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 12:47 PM UTC
"…ours is not to reason why." that is the only fragment
of the light
brigade?
call the philosopher for a meme:
Ah, we need an axiom,
some hope for humanity,
Christmas isn't working as well as it did,
Chanuka and Kwansa are distant also rans,
Where is hope if the wise have all been infected with…
"The fact that an opinion has been widely
held is no evidence whatsoever that it is not utterly absurd."
that's the meme sir,
but nothing clicked.
Bertrand Russell
wait
Ah, more, eh,
a semi colon not a point of completion.
That's the secret in all symbols to sibyls, my boy,
know what you meant
when you imagined them meaning
anything
"The fact that an opinion has been widely
held is no evidence whatsoever
that it is not utterly absurd
; indeed in view of the silliness of the majority of mankind, a widely spread belief is more likely to be foolish than sensible.”
― Bertrand Russell, Marriage and Morals
From <https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/172166-the-fact-that-an-opinion-has-been-widely-held-is>
In the world you shall have tribulation
but be of good cheer,
it makes everything better.
Merry Christmas, may the messages you trust be true.
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 8:01 PM UTC
For the first time ever; I truly do not care
if you, him, or her wished me a happy birthday;
But, I wouldn’t mind if you did. Though it is fair;
I am one of the lesser friends; I am a boring play;
A play so fake; I am of made up characters,
Sometimes I am the flattering villain in smiles,
And at times I am a copy of the Westerners,
At others, I am gullible, yet I never am;
I pretend to be; but I am miles away,
For interesting I am not; so funny at least be,
Says my brain; for maybe they will remember,
That my birthday was today; It is an endless plea:
I always remember and prepare pages of wishes,
For almost everyone, but all I get is 4 days late
One liners sent out of guilt; to stop the guilty itches,
Not out of care, love, or from genuine friendly state;
I deserve it; for again; I am merely a boring play;
A paradoxical headache of weird introverts,
And annoying extroverts; I barely even weigh,
To a normal person; I am made of endless alerts;
Alerted, focused, attentive; all on your acceptance;
I am what I feel you want me to be; a nice man,
A racist gangster, a diplomatic figure; I am resemblance,
I resemble everything I see in you and scan;
I am stardust that was never meant to shine,
I am a thread; intertwined as I feel pleases,
I am a road with temporary signs; I am grapes;
For you I squeeze myself into juice; or ferment
Into wine; I am a fake play where you write scripts,
I submit, because all I cared about is receiving,
A birthday wish. On that one day in the entire year;
I do not want even want gifts; because when you don't,
I feel like I am ceasing to exist; slowly deceasing
from everything that we were: teenagers ambitious,
WhatsApp stickers collectors, School runaways,
Kids deceiving; it feels like I am dead; for the dead
Do not receive birthday wishes; I feel peerless;
A white beans *** lidless, a body complete limbless,
A walking sickness, a moving flesh in stillness,
unpardoned by my faux and obvious silliness.
I do not care about not getting birthday wishes;
But I cannot not overthink what it means.
Nov 22, 2023
Nov 22, 2023 at 4:25 PM UTC
After a satisfying fried catfish
dinner with collards and a sweet potato
I went for a stroll in the nearby plaza
I entered the Publix with a sweet treat
on my mind
And there I saw the watermelon woman
that made my mouth water instead
She was cutting up samples to be
passed out while wearing a sliced
watermelon costume
Long black hair rested on one of her shoulders
A small scar on the side of her mouth
was noticeable, but it was completely
overshadowed by her gaze
Our eyes met, and I was locked in
I smiled softly in reaction to the silliness
of the dichotomy between the woman
and the watermelon
A pineapple would've suited her much better
She responded to me by giving her own
slightly nervous smile
She offered me a sample, which I took
then she began to speak to me with her
chin pointed down towards the table
Her eyes never broke contact with mine
"They're two for one today. Really good too.
You should buy some."
"Have you tried it?"
"No, but I can tell. I can smell it."
How I'd love to try her out
Her body language said that she
was self-conscious, insecure
Yet her eyes told me that she was a lioness
ready to be dominated
I left the store empty handed
A missed opportunity on my part
It's been a while since I've done any farm work
but if I see the watermelon woman again
I'll plant seeds
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 7:52 PM UTC
Almost bought some clothes for you, instead I got a Rose for you
And I chose a Lily 'cuz don’t **** me but it reminds me of you silliness
The Daffodils were really wet, so I took two trips
'Cuz you’re cooler than these other Tulips
I picked you this Daisy because you raised me
A Dahli to say I’m sorry, an Iris since you forgave me
For you gave me the most important in growth
I was your Sunflower, now look at what I’m becoming
You’re my flower darling, I’ll always keep the flowers coming
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
Silver shares such calming feeling towards my lifeless shell,
responsibilities flow me with joy and smiles,
however, under my silver I wear black.
I repaint my black walls in silver coats, wearing optimism like a crown,
gazing towards my darkest moments with sophistication and charm.
Seductive, mysterious and a comfort to all eyes,
secretive, silliness and sadness overwhelms my negative soul.
Under all of the layers of black and silver,
screaming towards me for affection.
You can find the smallest droplets of pink,
slowly is growing all over.
Hope holds me in a grip of pleaing and prays,
for one day I hold understanding and warmth with romance all my days.
Femininity is belittled thrown into a trashcan of self-doubt,
for once my little childish soul states,
"Can't we let femininity out?"
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 7:53 AM UTC