"smidge" poems
We can fight like holy demons
And in the end, nobody won
You ain't telling me we're over
I'll tell you when we're done
Just because we fight a bit
We argue and we cuss
I ain't set to call us done
There's time still left in us
I ain't going nowhere
I ain't jumpin' off that ridge
I ain't movin' out on you
While there's beer left in the fridge
I'll tell you when we're finished
Though we argue just a smidge
I ain't going nowhere
While there's beer left in the fridge
Sure, I done my cheating
But I kept my fingers crossed
I know that if I kept in on
My ring would not be lost
So I go and party
But I always come back home
It may take me a couple days
But, I know where I belong
I ain't going nowhere
I ain't jumpin' off that ridge
I ain't movin' out on you
While there's beer left in the fridge
I'll tell you when we're finished
Though we argue just a smidge
I ain't going nowhere
While there's beer left in the fridge
We always talk it over
Once they let me out of jail
I know that you still love me
Or you'd not have paid my bail
There's time for us to make up
And there's time for us to fight
So, three more beer or so
And we'll see which will be tonight
I ain't going nowhere
I ain't jumpin' off that ridge
I ain't movin' out on you
While there's beer left in the fridge
I'll tell you when we're finished
Though we argue just a smidge
I ain't going nowhere
While there's beer left in the fridge
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 8:01 PM UTC
**** me, I still dream of you.
When I'm thick in sleep and I'm so so lonely
and you
not you but dreamYou my dreamYou is
just so so ******* sweet...
and you're touching and I'm crooning and you're touching
and I'm twitching at the brink
the steady hand steady tongue
bringing me closer and further and closer and further
and I wish
wish wish wish
this was real
real really happening
because dreamYou isn't quite as harsh
as realYou was but
I can't kiss dreamYou without
your perfect dream face
cosmic scary dream morphing
into someone somebody not you
and what's sad
so sad, **** tragic
is you don't care a bit
not a smidge
not a ******* drop about
my miss miss missing you
dream or otherwise.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 5:04 PM UTC
Once upon a time in the days of old
There lived a very ugly troll
But her heart was made of gold
Her body was round and lumpy
Her brow furrowed and grumpy
She always stood all slumpy
She was abandoned as soon as she was born
For her mother had looked upon her with scorn
For with beauty she was not adorned
She was wrapped in a towel and placed under a bridge
Right up there on that little ridge
She was nothing then but a little smidge
The forest creatures insteed of eating her up
Raised her as a cub
They even shared with her their grub
The wolf taught of graces
The vultures, patience
The skunk, fragrances
The mouse taught of need
The crow, greed
The fox, speed
She lived in an ugly house of mud
Just like her the outside was a dud
But wow the inside of that hut could warm your blood
Late one night came a knock on her door
It was a knight in shining armor complete with sword
Battle weary, and badly gourd
She took him in and sewed up he's wounds
He looked longingly in her eyes, she thought loved had bloomed
But in reality she unknowingly sealed her doom
For he had seen her heart of gold
Please excuse me, this is where the tale turns cold
For this knight was not so nice, he had a heart of mold
Late that same darkened night
He unsheathed his sharpest knife
And plunged in the troll's chest just right
With a wailing mournful cry
Right there in her hut she would die
In that fleeting moment that sparkle left her eye
That knight cut out that gloden heart
It was so huge he had to put it on a cart
He didn't feel bad, what an ugly troll was he's only thought
The animals came to see what was that screaming sound
The wolfs smelled around
Nose to the ground
Off to hunt that evil knight down
The vultures did what they do, and ate her remains
The crows joined in and did the same
The mice and the fox just ran around all insane
The moral to this story is an ugly body can hold a heart of gold
But this world is very, very cold
So be very careful with your heart and to who it is you show
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 4:11 PM UTC
Our wilier webs
woven with the distractions of self-absorption
can come to feel
cheated if we use them
only for halfhearted games of catch
and eventual release.
He’d overlooked that part.
Then there was an obligation to prey
who so willingly strayed upon the taffy
pull of his sweet and sticky strands.
The scrunch up of their wee faces
squeaked, “We deserve
to have our glued-down expectations
met with a most gruesome expertise.”
He’d just wanted to watch them
struggle a smidge,
at first.
It was a test if this muscle the scribes
ascribe as rightly plagued by pangs
was in him
perhaps despicably defective.
With each tripper-by trapped
the examinations grew
more tortuously complex,
and when none raised even
the slightest murmur of a palpitation,
he gave the web its dripped-dry due,
at last.
“The murderous truth will out,”
they say. It did, monstrously.
Now his bound but gagless masques
are always well-attended.
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 7:40 AM UTC
Forget all of our webchats,
Forget our fake hugs when we reunited,
Forget the fake love we shared,
And forget our laughs and moments of bonding.
You've hurt me more than you could ever imagine,
And don't try to be friends with me out of guilt,
Because the past can never be erased,
You are honestly a disgrace!
Why sit here and think about you,
After all the pain you put me through,
Neglect, wanting to have *** constantly, and showing no affection towards me,
But there's a whole lot more,
Just not enough to put on paper.
All I was was nice to you,
And you very much exploited me,
And for that I can never forgive you,
You selfish boy!
I used to think you cared about my family,
Friends and sick relatives,
But I now realize you never did.
But I have people who will always love and care about me!
Do me a favor,
And stop texting and calling me out of guilt,
Because you know you never really loved me,
You just wanted to show me off for the time being!
Let's think realistically,
You cared more about yourself than you ever did me!
You put me last of your priority list and you ******* with my head,
For many months!
But I can say one thing about you,
You're very clever,
Into making me fall for you,
But I'm not as stupid as you think,
I'm so done with you!
Even after I write this poem,
I still care about you a smidge,
And I have not a clue of why,
But I know one thing to be true,
I'm leaving you forever; goodbye.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
•••
"on some days, I love you more than others,"
an early morning uh oh
IROLO
(instantly regretted out loud observation),
of the potentially ruinous kind,
spoken with malice towards none,
*and obviously,
no forethought,*
firmly but modestly muttered
over the modestly rumpled
courtroom battlefield
of sheets, newsprint, mugs
and Bocelli on low
smockingly,
(a slow spreading smile of mock),
she turns her gaze upon
the presumed guilty, querulous,
soon-to-be-ruined ruminator (me),
and asks with
disdainful derisive decisiveness
is your first cuppa too hot darling?
has your uncommon sense of non-sense been burnt?
t'is true I reply,
I feel the burn!
for am I not sworn
to tell the whole heated truth
and nothing but?
my love for you is simply
a mathematical additive,
progression series
every new day I love you
is forever
a mighty mite more
than the prior,
a smudged smidge of a penciled line,
taller than the
higher higher notated
upon ancient yesterday's doorpost
ergo,
ip so factoid,
and therefore,
by definition
on some days I love you more than others
•••
p.s. never have conversations like this in the presence of within-reach newspapers,
for they be
easy rolled and revised
into fearsome weaponry,
suitably for handy smacking"*
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
I've always thought that there should be
A change in personality
At that time of year when the holidays come 'round.
There is a change that I observe
In parking lots as people swerve
Around each other to get a spot they've found
They swear, they scream they go insane
In cars with kids they yell out names
names that'd make a life-long sailor blush
their faces red, they pound the wheel
with two arms flailing and fist of steel
shopping in a frantic blur and rush
Then done they speed out in the night
causing other drivers to pause with fright
going home to dinner with family and friends
They all sit down and raise a glass
asking peace and harmony to last
and beg for prosperity that never ends
please bless these folks who have no clue
or think a smidge of what they do
and take your shopping trips defensively
For they know not that when they bluster
it's all the self control we can muster
not to laugh so hard at them we can not see.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 8:33 AM UTC
Pain affects immediately, sticks around indefinitely
The headcount is up to sixty over infinity
And right around the corner is another three
Meaning it's always in the vicinity
And every type lands just a smidge differently
This feels like what I might imagine to be purgatory
Woe is me
My future will be winless if I'm too stay in the business of learning from my history
The bell to start the fight indicates the end, just prematurely
Loosing in a victory, contradictory absurdity mentioned literally,
All ***** nilly
As I'm sure you can imagine, maybe even probably agree
Somethin' like that is bound to change the complexion of a personality
I know personally
I'd hoped good days would roll in gradually, at least eventually
Instead they taunt relentlessly
It's with a heavy, often broken, heart I go in and defend half heartedly
Enjoying the savagery, a familiarity that relaxes me
But positions me next to the poisons amidst the pageantry
In the direct line of sight of my worst enemy
Me looking back at me directly
"You're talking to yourself again Jeremy..."
...shiit, sorry
©2024
May 14, 2024
May 14, 2024 at 5:06 PM UTC
I suppose I hadn't supposed, hadn't thought what a true, deadened chrysalis wonder
she was. Not until I pressed my lips against lobe and had to bend this way and
that. Most awkward. Felt un-gentle-manly. Felt unwomanly. Felt like
some copper etched away from an old photograph (is that why I...
looked like such a fool?) benign attitude, work force, eat, eat,
sleep, eat, ***** rob, and rot. my own mother sneered at
me. she draped gritty cloths across my forehead and, o
i died a smidge each time. now i cradle this thing...
this beautiful, tragic, fawn, black euphoria, well,
thing. spot on i can tell you i no wanna harm
or grease the poor thang. thang will evolve
to thong. she wuld naught grows up to
eva, eva-- (emfucis- emp-emphaw
sis. emphasis) like mama's own
twisted chalice. **** she
sure did remind me of
jazz, the squeaky
kind you don't
eva seem to
hear.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 4:13 PM UTC
"An american nightmare, I'd rather be dead."
She was sleeping in her bed, mind
racing with dreams,
thoughts clouding her small mind
her sleep drowning in the beginning of
a nightmare
die, the voices whispered, waking her her petite ears that are
adorned with the two diamond hearts her
mother bought her for christmas last year
no one wants you here, a spirit shrieks, evading her 2 am distraction, making
her small body jump in fear
you can't live like this, her parents, teachers, new therapists have said to her
seek help, dear, they continued to preach, throughout adolescence
though not realizing she was drowning in her own voice,
her threatening mind
after days, weeks, months, she couldn't
think any more good because it was instantly
covered by her own horrid thoughts
so instead of writing or singing, she
turned to another helper, a monster
of it's own.
...the blade cut her skin, the razor
made the panic disappear and
the voices fade
for just a few moments, that was all she needed
it left her skin with a tingle, a
fiery touch nothing like she
had ever felt before
one Night particularly her father
had sought solace in alcohol that sunday evening
and instead of
keeping quiet to himself, only drown his sorrows of the day
insults, words not of endearment, were spat her way
*worthless, ***** suicidal freak, *****
all that were echoes from her weeks at that prestigious, expensive private school
her parents had thrown money at
because she wasn't grotesque or proletariat to even be seen in 'public schools'
and instead of voicing concern over her distraught father
she calmly stepped into her small, cozy bedroom
adorned with every expensive thing she desired
and she grabbed her blade and cut just a touch deeper,
a smidge further,
a small bit sharper than before.
Now she lays sleeping with a gravestone at her head
that reads her name
and no nightmares to cloud her young mind anymore
however, she hadn't realized that her nightmares
did not go away,
rather,
they were left back on earth
with her loved ones as their newly sought homes.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
*Spread over warm shortbread ,
a drizzle with molasses and cornbread
On a fresh baked apple , a dabble on a **** ,
a spoonful over your corn on the cob
Hoecakes , pancakes , johnnycakes and
hushpuppies
A crawfish boil , a 'smidge in the stew , *** liquor , fresh hominy in the fridge ,
drop biscuits , catfish breading and Columbus
grits
Grandmother's frosting with a -
Mason Jar
The Old Red Rooster sleeps in PawPaw's car
Barn Owl hoot 'n holler
Two York's in the afternoon wallow
Blackberry muffins on the rack
An afternoon stitch on Uncle Joe's back
Three legged pup in a red clay ditch
Mother whipping okra with a hickory switch* .....
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 8:55 PM UTC
'Pets and Palates'
he had only two real loves
ducks and waffles
this was highly disconcerting
to his parents
who tried to distance their boy
from these strange affectations
by buying him a precious pet goose
named Berchunice
and putting him on a steady diet
of pancakes
and their various
international counterparts
needless to say
he didn't live to a great age
as a matter of fact
he died at twenty-two and a smidge
because while pets generally extend and enrich life
caring for a goose you despise
and dining on starchy carbs
seriously inhibits life expectancy
his passing was terribly unfortunate
as was the life his parents had forced upon him
if they hadn't forced these changes on him
had they merely accepted
perhaps
encouraged even
this love of ducks and waffles
their lovely lad
would have
efficiently and economically
solved global warming
in an effort to protect
the best interest
of his friends
the ducks
and in his downtime
he would have put
a major dent
in the world hunger problem
with a highly adaptable
waffle recipe
too bad.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:26 PM UTC
Like the hero of a story
...arriving two pages too soon.
The plot incomplete, like our own waxing moon.
Like the sweetest of fruits
...plucked a smidge premature.
Timing is crucial for love to endure.
If Love is a light
...to be alone is the night
...before two hearts unite
...we search absent sight
...starving for you, yet unable to bite
He's felt it before
...as he crashed to the floor
...a tormented soul seared to the core
...as the deafening silence continues to roar
...he misses her more
...and more
...and more
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 4:24 PM UTC
Black and blue marks
On my arm—
Ink, of course. What else?
Words, thoughts, feelings, fears
Written, smudged, then erased.
Leftover streaks,
They wash away
With a smidge of soap and water.
And yet…
I can’t help but remember
When I wrote
With mechanical pencils
And staple bullets
Instead of ballpoint pens
And gel ones.
When I watched the ink,
A gorgeous shade of rubies,
Trickle
Down to my wrist
Like a rivulet of lava.
Now, the fire has long faded
Leaving white ashes
That won’t come off
Mar 5, 2025
Mar 5, 2025 at 9:03 AM UTC
It feels like I keep
my feelings in a bucket
And each day
it gets heavier
and heavier
Until I empty it.
But until Then
I carry this bucket around
It drags in the dirt behind me
and weighs me down.
And at the end of each day
I feel so heavy myself.
Every night I sort
through the bucket,
All the anger is crusted
to the bottom
and It's impossible to scrub away
Happiness is always falling out.
It takes a lot more happiness to fill that bucket
and even then it weights
less that even a speck of anger.
It takes a drop of sadness, a smidge
of pain, or even a dash of
frustration to overpower the happiness and
shove it from the bucket.
Finally one day I look
down at this bucket of mine and
I realize, I'm tired
of lugging it around
and carrying
the wounds
and anger of my past self.
Tonight I empty my bucket
I'll let the pain and sadness
go
and set the anger free
After all I can't hold on to it
forever
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
A Lamar Original
Instead of being the Americans
That none chose to remember;
Let us become the America
That fondly glows with splendor.
No longer will we attack an America
That has the smidge of craft,
If we must attract the Americans
Who have to bridge the gap.
Great opportunity does not come,
Because we inhabit America;
Great opportunity does so come,
Because America inhabits us.
America,
This is the land of the free,
And we must prosper as one,
If we wish to continue to be…
In America,
The land of the free.
Instead of bringing forth an America
That rejects all faces;
We will bring forth Americans
That respect all races.
No longer will we charter an America
That greeds all day with favor,
If we must harbor the Americans
That bleed all day from labor.
For it is not how we live in this country
That determines the fate of our lifetime,
But it is so how we live in this lifetime
Which determines the fate of our country.
America,
This is the land of the free
And we must prosper as one,
If we wish to continue to be…
In America,
The land of the free.
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 10:57 AM UTC
i think i've lost the feeling in my fingertips
and the words that
graze my lips
slip
and dissipate
into meaningless thoughts
onto a page
it's the banging against my window panes
the clang and drip of rain
it's the constant reminder of the sun
that 'yes, i live'
'yes, i am here'
'yes, i will stay'
'for as long as you will let me'
it's like listening to the sound of crashing waves
against the shore
as i dip my toes
in the moonlight
but
there is that fear
of the unknown
the slippery tongues of the abyss
that lap and lick against my heels
the tremble of my lip
the shudder down my spine
as it snakes around my legs
it's the longingness to runaway
and disappear
to leave without a trace
no new names, no fake identities
not a smidge of existence
no footprints left behind.
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 11:28 AM UTC
This is the introduction to another cliche poem about love...well maybe.
I just want to meet one **** person that enthralls me, that doesn't end up just wanting me for *** I honestly thought that maybe she'd be different. But, to her, I think I'm just a one night stand.
I mean really??
I just need her to tell me she felt something different with me.
I just need her to tell me that I'm more than some stupid one night stand.
I just want her to tell me that she could fall in love with me...because whenever I'm around her, I'm always blushing, I'm always bashful, she brings out the shy little boy in me.
or maybe,
I'm crazy.
or maybe,
Its just the hormones.
The testosterone is probably driving me little insane.
Oh the unfortunate life of a transman. Sad, but true.
...with a smidge of anger, but that's besides the point...I'm always angry, I'm a poet.
and if there is one thing you need to know about this poet,
its that he likes going off on tangents.
anyways,
I just want to be with her.
Simply because she rocked my world... In more ways than one if you know what I mean.
I want her to be mine...or the respectfully equal to me in the form of a consensual relationship type partnership type thing.
whatever floats her boat...
because I just want to be the ocean underneath her.
and as if this poem couldn't get any more cliche, I'd like to point out that I'm a bottom or whatever that means because I guess she's a top...or at least she's the top to my bottom.
and I like it that way.
Call me a melodramatic hopeless romantic fool, but I want it to always be that way.
because I knew from the moment I saw her briefly make eye contact with me for the first time...I wanted to be her bottom, her ocean, her bashful little trans man. I could list titles forever, but I wont because I'm trying to be serious.
I read her some of my writing that night, and in truth I knew that she enjoyed it. Despite fact that she doesn't like poetry and she apparently doesn't make any exceptions for anyone... I could see in her eyes that I astonished her.
I hope that some day I become her favourite writer, maybe then I could rock her world in return.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 12:22 AM UTC
Micah The Mouse was a rat;
At least that’s how he behaved.
If he didn’t get his way every time
He’d holler and he’d rant and rave.
He got to be such a big mouse
That his head swelled up too.
He became so hugely obnoxious
Other mice didn’t know what to do.
They held a spontaneous election.
They needed to elect a top mouse.
Micah bribed the weaker leaders
So, Micah got the run of the house.
He kept up his pattern of bribery
And threatening those in his way.
Without anything like scruples
He’s still on the throne to this day
Micah The Mouse takes with both hands
And it’s too bad if anyone disagrees.
Those who think he cares about complaints
Will spend a lot of time on their knees.
In Micah got horrendously fat
By overeating just a tiny smidge.
He got to be so much like a big rat
He grew too heavy to cross the bridge.
So he roared and ranted and raved.
And blamed everybody around him.
That he was the cause of his problems
Seemed to completely astound him.
The wonder in all of this sad story
Is why the other mice could not see
That Micah was only in it for himself
And not for members of the citizenry.
Micah got to eat while others starved.
He got what he wanted, moved on
Yet somehow those that elected him
Never quite seemed to catch on.
Micah The Mouse takes with both hands
And it’s too bad if anyone disagrees.
Those who think he cares about complaints
Will spend a lot of time on their knees.
(Image from www.sharktacos.com)
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 12:27 AM UTC
Jump up and down does
the world move an inch,
for if we all jumped together
would the world move a smidge .
A jumping bean in the solar
system, where we all jump
up and down, to the left
we jump to the right up
and down we all do jump.
Are little planet swinging
like a pendulum, one
moment day the next it
is night.
We thought we could play
with the planet until the day
some one instead of the left
on did jump to the right and
in to the sun we hopped,
with a puff out went 6
billion lights. Just because you
can do something, never be
a show off as it'll smack
back in the face...
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
Middle-school adulthood
Picking on people is cool.
Nothing important is going on
That has anything to do with school.
Glasses make people four-eyed
Not being thin means they’re fat.
Stutters and stammers are funny
And being snotty is where it’s at.
Ding **** bell, being rich is swell
Don’t be wimpy, not a smidge
Tree-hugging liberals can go to hell.
Revel in your white privilege.
You want to vote for a Democrat?
Have you lost your silly head?
Just check all the GOP boxes
With Daddy’s choice instead.
Now you’re all grow up today
And have a lot of political power
Which grows and grows stronger
Each hour by Republican hour.
So don’t weaken now, baby
Do what you know is right.
Stick to your supremacist guns.
Because you know white makes might.
So use your sarcasm as a tool
Secretly whisper against the weak.
And those weak-kneed pacifists,
Those flag burning, long haired creeps;
Ignore them all; give their nose a tweak.
Just like the women you dated and married
They need to follow your lead in life.
After all, they don’t count the same as you.
The important thing is they’re just a wife.
Ding **** bell, power is swell
You never suffer, not a smidge
Don’t worry if you can’t spell.
Revel in your white privilege.
Never vote for a Democrat,
Don’t be that kind of stupid head.
Just check every the GOP boxes
Faithfully keep your state red.
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
All you need is fair a heart,
And mix that in, with pure of mind,
Sprinkle in romantic thoughts,
And add some love, just use the rind,
You'll need a pinch of *** appeal,
And just a smidge of naughty thoughts,
Room temperature is always best,
For when you take your clothing off,
The kindest words work best this way,
And don't forget to blow a kiss,
And mind your mood as you begin,
And don't forget to make a list,
A candle red, with rose oil rub,
As much as you can muster up,
Mix all of these together well,
Voila!, a recipe for love.....
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 7:55 PM UTC
Lately I've been losing sleep,
counting sheep ain't helping me
my OCD is killing me,
with late night things,
I barely blink,
cuz all I think.
it's coming soon
It's coming quick
I can not snooze
My eyes will squint
I might doze off, a lil bit.
But that's just it, a lil bit.
It's always just, a lil bit
A lil smidge a lil bit..
It's always just a lil bit.
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 9:44 AM UTC