"slingers" poems
Bus-riding, crumb-counting hand wringers
Bibble-babbler, channel-flipper slogan slingers
Keep the volume loud enough to drown out the machines
That fill their cupped hands daily with excrement and dreams
These are the ****** of the canon
Button-pushing, lever-pulling product users
Wife-buying, tax-paying alcohol abusers
Emasculated monkeys done up in black and white
Clock in in the morning and flock home late at night
These are the ****** of the canon
Train-conducting, ring-leading hand shakers
String-fingered, queue-cutting, man makers
Drive home, cursing, lonely, breaking bones beneath their wheels
Without the time to diagnose that emptiness they feel
These are the ****** of the canon
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
I’m rather fond of chocolate cake
I’d like to learn to knit
But I can’t abide Celine Dione
And Celery is ****
I find a book most comforting
And the odd banana split
But I hate celebrity look-a-likes
And Canadian singers
And celery are ****
I’m happiest by the fireside
Some music, I’ll permit
But I grit my teeth at gossipers
And dead ringers
Canadian singers
And Celery are ****
I love the air about my hair
And the grass beneath my feet
But I've never been too keen on wasps
And **** slingers
Dead ringers
Canadian singers
And celery are ****
I’m partial to a cup of tea
With a biscuit next to it
But I’ll never vote conservative
And insect stingers
**** slingers
Dead ringers
Canadian singers
And celery are ****
I like to bake a birthday cake
Or build a Lego kit
There are many things I truly love
But Right wingers
Insect stingers
**** slingers
Dead ringers
Canadian singers
And celery are STILL ****
**
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 7:37 PM UTC
IF we were such and so, the same as these,
maybe we too would be slingers and sliders,
tumbling half over in the water mirrors,
tumbling half over at the horse heads of the sun,
tumbling our purple numbers.
Twirl on, you and your satin blue.
Be water birds, be air birds.
Be these purple tumblers you are.
Dip and get away
From loops into slip-knots,
Write your own ciphers and figure eights.
It is your wooded island here in Lincoln park.
Everybody knows this belongs to you.
Five fat geese
Eat grass on a sod bank
And never count your slinging ciphers,
your sliding figure eights,
A man on a green paint iron bench,
Slouches his feet and sniffs in a book,
And looks at you and your loops and slip-knots,
And looks at you and your sheaths of satin blue,
And slouches again and sniffs in the book,
And mumbles: It is an idle and a doctrinaire exploit.
Go on tumbling half over in the water mirrors.
Go on tumbling half over at the horse heads of the sun.
Be water birds, be air birds.
Be these purple tumblers you are.
1.5k
concrete, metal, steel and glass
lustrous phalluses
skyscraping
lighting up the dark
no stars
visible
visual
pollution.
with an iron fist
the rulers of the world
reign the world
out of the towers of babylon 8.
who are these people?
what are they doing all day and all night long?
what are we being told?
beneath the towers: a vast red light district
populated by desperate, greedy, machiavellian creatures:
driven by addiction
drugs are sold in the street 24/7
since the councilmen of babylon 8 established a drug policy
that is called "babylon's way".
it has been administered for three decades and ensures that slingers and dealers are given a set place to do what they are used to do.
in order to calm worried citizens, the police raid a stash house every couple of weeks while dealers are waiting across the street to go on as soon as the cops will be leaving.
the rulers of the world are addicted to themselves; many are using.
the slingers are faithful to any kind of mind-altering substance; many are dying right now.
close to you and close to me
while these words are written down and by the time they will be read.
people die daily because they do drugs.
most die due to abuse
some because of regular use
and even a few
trying it the first time.
what do YOU think ––
can anybody hear the addicts' last breaths inside the towers?
how do the rulers of the world perceive the world?
what's going on in babylon 8?
besides: babylon 8 is not an imaginary city.
it's real name is
frankfurt am main
located in
germany
(a.k.a. "bankfurt" a.k.a. "krankfurt")
globally known for
its fair
its stock exchange ––
and a skyline
of bank towers
Dec 31, 2019
Dec 31, 2019 at 9:40 AM UTC
Many of us intellectual poets
Mock the idea of people not reading
Why, just lately, I read novels about hiking the Appalachian Trail
And several books about cycling across America
Even some fiction about gun slingers in the Wild West
And, of course, pastoral poems, sonnets, and HP's best
While many people are out experiencing life
Not reading
We are improving our vocabulary and intellect
That will prove extremely valid
Wile reading our next book
I feel sorry for the people who can't find the time to read
Because they are too busy living
How obtuse?
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
I be illin'
The bones in my body be chillin'
The dope that I'm slingin' be killin'
Zig Zag fillin', 40 zoner swillin'
I got twenty...got a five, bro? I'll cut you in!
I got twenty...got a five, bro? I'll cut you in!
I've bought plenty on the live wire, where you been?
I'm walkin' too straight 'n' I'm eatin' my mashed potatoes
L.A. hoes you don't wanna know
Keepin' my toes warm
See how they swarm
They're like bees when they tease me
With their slingers, humdingers
My epiglotis is a-stingin'
And my uvula is swingin' back and forth
Twenty, son, back to four twenty
I get away with a wounded knee massacre
I say what I please, Lenny Bruce on da juice
I ain't no racist
I'm a future born Papist
You got to listen to me
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC
She walks down the corridor
back straight, immaculate.
Heels tapping a regular rhythm
heart beating a tattoo of nerves.
nerves
She can hear the wishers of spite
whispering, sneering, delivering splinters
of withering, scathing remarks at her back
behind masks of smiles and false friendship.
friendship
She hasn't been aboard a ship of friends
in quite a while.
Transistors in her head have picked up the
whispers, the predictors have spoken.
spoken
"She only got the promotion on her back"
"Like she has the qualities for the role"
"Well she does have qualities for a roll!"
"She does like rolling on her back!"
back
Back home, she sits at the mirror in her room
shivers whilst remembering the sniggers and
whispers. The slingers of whispers and dirt
have hurt too deep this time.
time
Time has passed, and the only dirt thrown
Is the handful by her sister, on top of the box
her sibling lies in, lies in because of lies.
She espies the work colleagues, watching and grins.
grins
Grins because it's not often you see the twin
of a suicide victim.
The victim of evil whispers, furthermore
she starts work in a week, with these weak whisperers.
Killers
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
A huge veil separates us from reality,
'Casualties of abnormal normality'
And that's my generation,
Thirsty for immediate gratification.
Paying no mind to Morpheus,trapped inside a matrix
The system is a slab; the slingers are these mind tricks.
searching for truth,finding it in drugs and ***
Somebody it seems,put on us a hex,
Not caught up in your such for heaven,
in our chill-spots we have a 'safe' haven.
hanging from life's cliff,by a weakening thread,
you can't blame us; in recklessness we were bred.
Holy books aside, give me Li'l wayne's rhymes,
Misplaced faith,we worship dimes.
disintergrated morals,
Child-parent quarrels.
Watch us puth God,girls,gangs and guns-
in the same sentence,
and hope for a fairer retribution,than to misery,a life sentence
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 6:10 AM UTC
Pinky ring slingers,
Watch as my brothers get put in slammers,
Watch as my brother’s get hung from swingers.
Every day, every week I hear cries and gospel singers.
Every day, every week I hear gun shots and tweakers.
Trauma runs deep, our community the titanic,
All we get is static from a government,
That watches along as we sink here.
Treating it like collages cause they hearts cold as winter.
Where our cries go in one ear than out the other ear.
If the Statue of Liberty was a person,
They’d probably evict her.
I guess one may say that,
Equity has become as real as flying reindeer.
It’s cute that some think they understand the pain here,
Just because they watched Naruto.
Now, that’s what I call taking a big leap sir!
But the truth is you’ll never understand kiddo.
You may be lost now, but so too was Nemo!
Just gotta accept it like the fact that,
Han first shot at Greedo.
Dealing with the same **** since existence,
But we refuse to fix the broken toilets.
Flushing away the vulnerable.
**** a safety net.
Dealing with the same **** since existence,
But those in power keep their phones on silent.
Letting people fall through the cracks,
Thinking it’s priceless cause in their minds they’re worthless.
Yet ignorant ************* still can’t seem to fathom why we upset!
In fact the buggers uno reverse the subject.
Like they are the true victims,
Cause intersectionality displaces them.
Must really **** to be viewed as the problem?
Get over it darlin!
Tell me more about how it feels to not be pardoned for your skin!
****
Straight up, Got ‘em.
Got they hands up but still shot em.
Got barely any food to eat, still robbed em.
May have been hit with a rock bottom.
But they still don’t know what it is to hit rock bottom!
So, shut up and **** on my *******
***** I’m not playing,
***** I’m not joking!
Dealing with the same **** since existence,
But we refuse to fix the broken toilets.
Flushing away the vulnerable.
**** a safety net.
Dealing with the same **** since existence,
But those in power keep their phones on silent.
Letting people fall through the cracks,
Thinking it’s priceless cause in their minds they’re worthless.
May 25, 2023
May 25, 2023 at 4:38 PM UTC
An anger boils inside them,
like a bursting lava,
making sounds of hidden pain,
and mixed emotions,
causing them to never smile
and technically,
who smiles when they are torn apart,
Just mannequins, though humans never cease to cry,
It makes my mind go vivid,
as I hear a thousand gunshots,
with these slingers so committed,
aiming guns at all these children,
from the slums, living in poverty.
No food to eat, and mothers, fathers,
all addicted, consciousness intoxicated
Alcoholics, junkies, hookers,
scrap collectors, non-supporters,
half of them are living with no,
life support, they can't afford,
to live without their souls,
seems like they need the Lord,
I see their bruises;
dead like mannequins...
living life so clueless,
but constantly they're used.
I see their wounds, they're bleeding, lying there in pain. They seem so numb, as though decaying...
And wounded by the hand of their oppressor, but they suffer,
while their wounds all look like bulletholes,
If only we could hear their cries, as though they were alive, if only mannequins were breathing, living,
don't you think we'll see, see the many bruises given by this life and all she gives, despite their wounds appearing hollow,
like they're bullet holes,
of sorrow,
they hide it with graffiti.
Every time a new tomorrow...
Moved around like mannequins and clothed by another,
meant to stay in one position; bite their tongues so they won't speak. They'll never know their cries or bruises,
their painful, deep emotions,
but the world will never know why_
mannequins don't choose to cry.
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 5:38 PM UTC
Something good is going to happen
something inside of me is growing
a warm glow is on my tied face
and I am turning younger again
Is there something wrong with this mirror
my lines on my face are fading
they float to the floor
each one turning into words
I bend down and pick them all up
I run down the hallway
back to my computer
then tap them away
Do rabbits make good gun slingers
are clouds just marsh mellows
**** these words are not right
I must of left some in the bathroom
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC