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Robin Carretti Jul 2018
He was blown>>>>
>>>> away_--- from
my lace-up
Is She his blue
Mood tie set any bet
to walk the talk

At your own pace
The lustful wake up she
got the face

The edge of his rim sneaker
So prim who is proper
On the brim of ecstasy
He puts sugar on my tongue

Rumors like the "Talking Heads"
All in the bedding sneaker
Jane of the jungle wild tongue
She races Tarzan swinging sneakers
You and I tripped over dreams the sneaker?
Lip to lip disaster

The "Cyberwar" stepped on melting
Gold *** of tar
The loud blaster she moves the
Starwars so far

He could eat her up
his checkered black and white flag
Like a lobster claw his last draw

The racer mouth sponsor

She was born 2-B that way
sneakers love 3 some run
It's not unusual to have fun
with anyone
Her hands were far gone but
solid as a rock
Rollicking flying his rocket
Racing by her own clock Ms. Hornet


His sneaker loud love feud one
the detail on her sneaker
the wild bird of a bud

He shook me all night long
don't do an
A-C-D-C  on me
The sneaker he got the
Crazy eights
 No prank calls
Her hot buns and
Speaker- Frank-flirters
take me out to the
ball game demonized

The Anti Christ be born again
My sneaker group what a tank full
The Antitank no thanks
You cant always get what you want
and if you try sometimes
Charge all plastic but
sneakers like rubber soul

Visa hot runner Lisa no control
The American Express abdominal press
Shop until she drop's gum-drops
Your head was like a
Rolling Stone Jagger
Bigfoot sneaker Friday 13 size
That girl sweet pea Lea surprise
In the Hell, kitchen she snapped
That purr nightcap like Cleopatra

He's the Mantra so passionate fruit loopier
She's the Mona Lisa unfriendly sneaker
Your happy socks are quick
On his bell-hop feet
The sneaker riddle beat


That long meeting so *******
For time baby blue eyes Frank
on the mic
Like the jitterbug tight-knit
as sneaker print rug
Citron sharp eyes 5 Karat
Spicy hot Chili pepper
poem sonnet

The singer swung
Jazzy sneaker band
Dr. Who wears sneakers drinking
Dr. Pepper

The "Red Apple McIntosh" computer
Such a loud mouth hacker Josh
Jeweled Judy cultured pearls sneaker smash

Or her Stairmaster her
sneaker hotties ruffles have ridges
The juicy burgers dill pickles

Desperately sneaking Susan
sneakers to her affair finish line 
What a Lady Madonna
baby sneakers
at her breast rebel of hearts
I wonder how she manages to
sneaker speed the rest

Her best to out twin any talk
bullseye power walk
Buying the triplex sneaker
The loud talker 4 for 4 fame Wendy
Run like a fugitive your alias
name
Go International quite run
for your money I suppose
His sneakers up on her recliner
It wasn't her better rose
She's the high boot lady ever finer

On E-Bay selling your favorite sneakers
Those Australian Huskies biting sneakers
Such a Paws up against doggone heartbreaker

The in-crowd Flynn or another runner Lynn
Everybody is not a star or wedding crasher
Or even the right sneaker lover

Lady that lives in her homeless shoes
Are we all inside a video game
all commercials

Needing bifocals video begins
 Wynn at Sneaker Con
Joy to the world of the joystick
The sneaker of the Torah prayers of
the Temple
All dots and specs out of sneakers
More zits and pimples
I just want one-half cream
The changing Moon 1/2 Wolf
My man (Mr. Drakar) Howling toenail

French onion soup say cheese
her sneaker what a
no-brainer lightheaded breeze
You come so far sneaker trainer
And a grave site plot famous
brand sneaker
name

A million odds to one name in the
cemetery
****** Mary she flies in her
sneaker like Mary Poppins
Going under the influence
Heres looking at you kid umbrella

Hot Hollywood Taurus Bulldog
runner
We really don't have a name

We are writers and ****
good fighters single to mingle sneaker
Not the homewrecker more like the homemakers
Even sneaker has a voice and walks like singers
Shoeiverse sneaker race
became her living curse
The grin of the Grinch green sneakers
On his sled ride the lucky shamrock

I'm the happy heel
The tigress furry feel skip to my Lou
he ordered the
kids happy meal

Getting a ticket for reckless walking
Lights on or eyes wide shut
Are sneakers running for their life?

More fuel- time we get no alone time
Let's go shopping for the
new sneaker called
(Valentine only) sold one
day the sale
Singing her sneaker song a chip
device to talk back hot male
The 'Calvin Klein" dockers her ball of the foot
tennis sneakers It's her loud Owl ******-hoot

The farm girl Ralph Lauren corral
To rope her in lasso-like with morals
racing horse of different color fashion
I cannot hear you I have a hell
of a tinnitus reaction

  She-Devil bickering.>>> No heart like a sneaker
I am a snake too short to run the mile

I was too busy looking
at her long legs
On the Jet
** Plane
The most popular lady
in her sneakers 

Viper car and strings attachments
Ms. Love lace the shoelaces
with hearts
She is tied to his ankles
like condiments
Like Sweet cherries what a
bomb kicker sneaker
The Southern Belle runner
Be the stunner the trucker roadrunner

Hail to Mary the sneaker
Queen of Sheba
Turn on the radio Country singer Reba
What a sneaker rating ratio

When she bent down the crisscross
Watch out cross my heart trainer

Cross my heart and hope to die
To get slimmer
I am the happy sneaker
all the moods hot goods
(Hey Robin Hood)
stealing a rich man and poor women
which is the witch

One string said pull me the
other one said you feel like a
Chrome lead sleepy feet go to bed

Like Beer and pretzels
What an insane sneaker hazard
Hospital beepers sneaker virus
stepped on the most expensive
Venus, I beg you to run
lips we travel bullets and stars
We just want some fun

Marathon key just one clicker
That strawberry shortcake
Versus the "Cherry Bomb"
The Prince and the Pauper
what a toad kisser
That army tanker hurry up
lunch or brunch
What a Patriot Brady bunch

My shoelaces became like a
firecracker candy bar crunch

Who is the loser lover
or the winner
The long trip almost at the end
of the race
What a rivalry those shot glasses
at random
The sneaker fandom

Smile to me if you're not
wearing anything
but sneakers
My wings the wifi cute feet just
say Hi

No, I saw a man 600 pounds
of Reebok gold way too
much belly roll fat
The Dr. Seuss cat in the hat

Nike in the air Robin
bird skydivers
Dark matter gold diggers
Movie (It) Stephen King
skateboard

Penny feet relaxer
The Wise clown got her
The sneakers comedians
Seinfeld stand up sneaker
To be dead or wed Kleinfeld
Exotic sneakers and
cars he made a home run
Hot hell ring my bell
You made me happy
I got to first base

And you all sync into
one of a kind sneaker
Mom Robin the singer
No, I saw a man-eating
out of his sneaker
His head up in the Nike air
Oh! all hell breaks footloose
computer looking
up the sneaker sales

All I am doing is clicking
with a mouse
Where is my lover
sneaker twin, my spouse
This is about a trip not on an airplane flight more down to earth long walk star gazers or runners and clickers but its a comedy around all names and hot runner shes the firecracker don't  eat her at her game
Stephen E Yocum May 2016
From youth, not unlike the love
I received from my family, I surmised,
that extended love might be everywhere.
With artless, open arms and heart,
I embraced this simple notion.
In time, sadly this childish wish
was honed to a hard truth by maturation.

Friends and loves come
and go, fleeting in heart,
and committed soul.
Unreliably, flowing in and ebbing out,
like deep undulations of an ocean,
all too often with sneaker waves
that pull us under. Breakers pushing
our ship onto the rocks, in a sea
of shallow unfulfilled expectations.
Encounters becoming disappointment,
with too many frogs kissed.

My educated suspicion is,
beyond our family of blood kin,
Faithful canine love is the only
other "truly committed devotion"
we are likely to get.

In the end, that may well be enough.
Perspective wisdom can be a bitter lesson.
Redshift Mar 2013
"yeah i had a good break...was smashed the whole week...apparently i ****** on some dude's xbox"
"yeah mine does that too. they were ******* so hard the bed was squeaking"
"*** there she is! the one with the ears....hah check the sneakers! who the **** does she think she is"
"i'm glad my hair doesn't look like that"
"i think i was *****"
"did you get it in, man? hahahhh"
"it's cuz his **** is smaller than his brain"
"got a D...i'mma go shoot myself. i ******* hate this lady"
"hah! I like HER skirt. notttt! what the ****, she looks like a hippo"
"yeah we're kind of a thing now. he texts me like, 24/7...my parents were so ****** over break"
"oh my god i have this test in an hour...i was way too ****** last night to study"
"wow i didn't get **** on my midterms, hello mcdonald's"
"*******"
"hey *****, you're lookin' ******"
"check my ***. good? good."
"yeaaahhh man! we make this punch...it's crazy. half a solo cup and you're gonneeee. tuesday, man. be there or be a little **** for the rest of your life, hahahhahh"
"duude we were dropping ecstasy like crazy! everything looked like pink marshmallow fluff...some poor ******* jumped off the garage roof, thought he could fly or some ****...you want some? i can get you some, bro. no prob."
"i couldn't even sleep last night, my roommate was banging her boyfriend and the moaning was sicking me out"
"yeah bathsalts are some ****...my cousin tried to rip out his kid's eyeball one time...it was ******* hilarious"
"did you get in her pants?"
"homerun?"
"i was so drunk man, i don't remember anythingggg hahahhhh"
"honey...i was drunk. i don't even remember sleeping with her, you can't blame me"
"i was drunk...surprise buttsex!!"
"dude she had her hands in my pants for half of the class"
"can you believe she posted that? i mean come on"
"yeah! then write ***** on it!"
"hahah i wrote this note on her door with my number...saying that i was a lesbian and thought she was hot....then the ******* ****** called me and me and my roommates basically pranked **** out of her for like, two hours"
"dad, i know. i get it. yeah. yeah. ALRIGHT! i just need a couple hundred. i'll pay you back. it's just to help me get by. yeah, this one professor wants me to do some extra reading. i need it for a book..."
"yeah he likes you! he texted me! text him back. COME ON! i'm telling you...you're gonna end up 22 and STILL not have boyfriend. just do it already...jess!"
"yeah we didn't even have enough gas to get here. had to borrow money from my dad...ohmygodd...this app won't load..."
"it wasn't ****...it was more like...******* a dead fish...hahahhh!!!"


"i'm gonna fail"
"don't worry about it, it's the professor's fault. she's a ******."
One4u2nv Feb 2012

I'm thoughtfully watching joyous pupils viciously coming across girlish phantoms.

Meanwhile you are watching me satanically bounding through fields of flaming stimulations, while riding on hope that depends on productivity. I won't ever find it. Productivity that is. 

Satisfaction might never be prioritized above facts. This is FACT-

The unknown needlessly attracts poetry.

Our reality abraded and unjust can be uncomfortable if it’s entangled with education. 

Moving at your own pace is a fountain of materialism and greedy lusts. 

Psychic ability favors pressure, and a random act of silliness can somehow mold in to self reform. 

Magic has been brought to you by Nikola Tesla and of course Prince...He is the true King, save Bowie of course. 

Sexology turns boring things into The American Dream.

Suggestively inter-dimensional paintings as a punch line to a tasteless joke for tasteless people. ----> See blog for details. Http://www.tasteforthetasteless.tumblr.com

Swiftly opulent inspectors for future generations leave no getaways for past generations. Thank your god for this..I certainly do. 

Feminist eruptions and Malibu Barbie are inexpensive expectations with crazed, maniacal plans for world *******. We fed the Illuminate to the space pirates and now we are the people. 

Enclosed in this excessively long mixture of nonesenical words are meanings of life like surgically altered violins fueled by bitterness and rage are the way to the Sneaker Pimps six-Underground. 

Our politicians are galavanting with over paid under appreciated butchers. 

Comfort is the leading cause of heroism and cancer. 

Electricity is a side-effect of greed. Greed fuels each and every home. 

Activism is another form of stigmata and self-confidence rests upon your soul's desire to be better. 

A perfect moment is ruined by mythology. Throw it away along with your **** of an ego. Learn what bogs you down and what helps to keep you afloat. 

****** tension can trigger an avalanche of vengeance and self loathing destruction 

Your energy can transcend in to a rouge wave larger than life and larger than Jesus Christ fanatics followed by Anti-Christ hopefuls.

Laughter gravitates towards ravenously healthy men and women. Follow that pack and you will find health awaiting your arrival with open arms. 


CloudedVision Sep 2018
Sneakers, sandals, slippers, or flips
Flops and, socks, or maybe crocs.
Vans, and addida, champion too
Oh the many shoes to go through

But here is a man who knows shoes well
He has much to teach and tell
This man is named Mr. Ned
He has a shoe on his head

Mr. Ned went to school
The university of Crocs&Socks
Now all he wears is comfort shoes
Things that make him feel good and cool

So now lets hear the story
The story of Mr. Ned
The story of he got to where he is now
A story of his march ahead

Mr. Ned was a poor little boy
Grown up in the city of This Way And That
But poor little Ned had a no bed
No where to rest, but it was all his best

So Mr. Ned made a choice
He would travel abroad to study shoes
It was a good cause
To make sure no foot could lose

He went to school
The school of tick tocks
A place where he learned
Of sandals with clocks

He then moved on to Toe Boot School
Where he learned his boots
Inside and out
Making sure to know it all well through

But poor Mr. Ned didn't like any of those shoes, they made his feet hurt or uncomfortable
So he chose to move on to Sneaker Squeaker, a school of silent sound

But Ned didn't like this school one bit
It was all silent, but the squeak of the sneak, you could never be happy, making no noise, so he chose to move on
To the school of Shoe Boys

But when he arrived
The school wasn't for him
They chased him out
Throwing hard doll toys

That school was for girls
A lot of them too
The smell and the hair
Made Ned coocoo

He then decided
"Proffesional I should go"
So he chose to go
To the school of Shoe Snow

But that school was cold
Except for his feet
They were warm
Even through the sleet

So he left being freezing
And went to a beach
But all he found there
Was shoes white with bleach

Why you should ask?
Well it's really quite simple
The people love shoes
Not the yellow of sand

They want their shoes clean
Not fat, wide, or lean
So they made sure to put bleach
Where ever a shoe may land

But Mr. Ned decided that even
That wasn't for him
So he took a bus
To City Where Ever Whim

There he found a school of Crocs
Crocs with socks
Some shoes were black, others were red
Yet nothing there, was a sight of dread

The style was intricate
Fancy yet easy
A sock must be put in every croc
A sock and shoe was comfy
And made you want to walk

So Mr. Ned finally found what he loved
A sock with a Croc a style of uniqueness
A sock of DeWine, with a basic Shoe
Made it seem, like anything he could do

He marched up a hill
With a smile on his face
And a paintbrush in hand
Oh the color you could make your crocs
Yet it always washed off, with soap-a-krill

Socks with crocs were what he needed
He made sure to stand tall
And to announce his discovery
To all passerbys's he meeted

Mr. Ned now wears crocs and socks
A croc on his head
And socks on his feet
No heavy thing could ever slow him
Not even the eight of of a rock solid block

So please go ask of Mr. Ned of his journ
He has made it all around the world
But now Mr. Ned needs some rest
He lays down on his bed
Knowing He found the best.
The reviews were in and as usal all were pretty much what I expected .
the crittics were so dam hurtful course what do you expect from a teenage windbag
who cant take a **** without posting on twitter how terrible life is.

But much like the **** on his hundred dollar sneaker's made in a sweatshop
by someone who makes ten cents a day .
There words much like there sad little yuppie cast life's  seldom amounted
to a pimple on the worlds ***.

What kind of tormented hampster take's glee in cussing out
a semi insane  carear criminal with a rap sheet that reads longer
than one of thoose Harry Potter books.

Being a man  of  much free time and plenty of found cash.
I decided to vist a crittic of mine.
And what better place to vist than a sunny state with not enough brains
to convict a woman who kills her own kid yes that true think tank
of complete dipshits Florida.

As  my plane touched I down payed close attention to my target I mean crittic.
It seemed he was versed in many hobies a few including.
Taking pictures of himself and his homies with there shirts off
wow no wonder this hampster was viewed so much by older gentlemen who run the site.

He also liked tiedie shirts and beer well honestly who doesnt the beer I mean.
Unless your a steriod fed pro wrestler or ***** hippie who wears that **** when there sober?

The name much like most things I could give a **** about seldom stayed with me.
Cause much like the hampster im writting about  honestly was as about as forgetable
as that night I spent with his mom ohhhh snap.

He was in a cult and it was a cult that had millions of followers
the cult of the yuppie spoiled ******* for which he was the states chapter president.
hey what can I say he was a good worker course that's what the guy bathroom
that used to be a politcian said dam you Sonny Bono  why  did you ever break
up Peaches and Herb!

But enough with the foreplay children.
It was bright as hell outside warm and annoying with all the people on the ******* sidewalk
Jesus man take the wheel im trying to mix a drink.

After some brief sidetracks what?
I figure why not   **** on a place thats biggest mark is hurricanes and ******* conventions
oh yeah and people who cant convict people who ****** good thing cause this vist was gonna be a breeze.

I stood at the door that stood at the gate that stood befor me and stood befor
my verbal punching bag locked in his yupie fortress.
Yes sir are you expected  the guard asked me.

Honestly no sir I wasnt but thats what happens when  a loose woman make's bad choices.
As usal like in the cases of most people that come from that clan we call normal.
he just looked at his list and prayed I would leave.

Sir Im gonna have to ask you to leave.
I knew this man's logic but seldom do I let sense and reason get in the way of a good
time or a Gonzo on a mission to payback a Yuppie ***** who much like his work
I often forget.
But hey look on the bright side when ya run outta toilet paper you always have
something to wipe your **** with.


The man kept asking yet like most people I simply ignored
his pleas.
Let me ask you sir what did the face say to the floor?
The man paused thought and as the tasser bit into his neck
and as his body went as limp as the states thought process
i kinda had to feel bad as he hit the pavement with a thud.

Im kidding I like I care?
Past the point of no return and little reason I was yet at the main door.
Were little now what was his name hmmmm  oh yeah young ***** Bagginns
called home.

Why you should have seen the suprize in his eye's
when he looked up from his coloring book to see his favorite
person to talk ***** about.

Or herd the screams   as his little **** was thrown into the wood chipper
hmm oddly enough red really wasnt his color.
Im kidding I didnt **** him right away hell that would take all the fun out of are little get togather.

And besides i bought all this kickass stuff at the hardwear store.
He kicked and cried.
For the love of facebook and texting i didnt mean it im sorry!
I was deaf to his cries for hours the torture went on.

And  just when he had hit the point of total agony I did the most cruel act of them all.
Well my friend time for a little TV.
What how the ***** that torture you idiot ?
Seems this little hampster still had some fight in him.

I pressed play and what appeared apon the screen was a horror so cruel it pains my long winded **** to
write it well maybe not.
Justin Bieber appeared on the screen.
Hey guess what ***** Ive set it on loop.

From the top of his lungs he screamed like a young school girl who fell victem to this
Pagan God.
Nooooooooo anything but that.

As I made my exit from his lare slash basement he somehow managed to muster all his yupie strength
breking his bonds a bolted like a yuppie cheatah he was to fast he had reached the shotgun befor
I knew dear lord! this was it I was gone for sure.

I cant take it anymore!
The sound was beyond words.
The celling was covered in yuppie sludge.
I felt myself was I dead?
Hey they got all the channels on this satelite kickass.
As I sat lost in my private time i had to wonder was it wrong
to target little spoiled shites that bully others and shouldnt we just try to reach out and understand one another?

Yeah ***** that what am I Dr Phil?
I have to admit young ***** really was cool now he lay dead on the floor and you seem so more open minded.

Course being it's blown  off it seems to help.
I laughed I cried I ordered like five hundren dollars in adult films on young ****** satilite.
Hey I was celebrating his life and staining his couch.
You cant put a price on revenge duh.

And as i bolted from that State dumping the corpse in the Everglades.
I had to wonder what drives a young ******* to cross a old drunk hampster
like myself ?  

Well like I was really conserned I was way to buzy enjoying the gators rip the
young no talent **** to shreds.

Note to crttics get a life and avoid me or I might be making a road trip to a city
near you!
Yes someones gonna get hurt and it's not gonna be me.

Stay crazy hampsters
Dedicated to a certain little hampster who belives cussing people out is being a crittic.
Heres the thing if you dont like me then dont read me.
Pearson Bolt Nov 2016
i’ve long dreamt
of black flags in the streets
tonight i marched beneath
the shadow of their wings

shoulder-to-shoulder
in hope and solidarity
an anarchist professor
with a climate change activist
an independent journalist
and one of my students

as mid-November winds tugged
at her pink-and-brunette hair
she lifted a hand-drawn sign
of a gigantic sneaker
smashing a ****
and i felt
for not the first time
an enormous sense of pride

how humbling to at once
inspire and be inspired by
an eighteen-year-old
punk and artist
who asked to borrow
The Moral Imperative of Revolt
two scant months ago
then took to the streets
to oppose and depose
a twisted fascist virtuoso

for two whole hours
we hundreds owned the streets
we marched down Rosalind
Central and Orange Avenue
as protest slogans rang angelic
we raised hell and found heaven
in liberty equality and solidarity

but then the pigs closed in
cordoned to Lake Eola
to scream acquiescent rhetoric
at the fish sleeping
blissful in their innocence
beneath the jet black surface

a half-dozen cops in riot gear
astride horses loomed
ominous before us
backlit by the headlights
of the aggravated motorists
our march had forestalled

as the people abandoned the streets
we’d won so easily
i felt my chest wilt beneath
the weight of forsaken opportunity
my eyes scanned the remaining crowd

four stood strong
rooted to the concrete
by the world's weight
anchored by conviction
an anarchist professor
an independent journalist
a climate change activist
and a freshman college student

i heard the professor whisper to his student
i heard him say she'd put herself in harm’s way
that they'd lost the day when the marchers
turned their backs and walked away
but she didn’t flinch or move an inch
she stood silent and vigilant
shoulder-to-shoulder
chin held almost as high
as her ****-smashing protest sign
and her matching *******

and in that moment
i could’ve died
smiling
This poem is not about me. Quite the contrary, this poem is about my brave student. An absolute champion.
Morgan Jan 2011
Me without you is like,
A sneaker without laces.
A geek without braces.
Asentencewithoutspaces.
FallenAngel93 Feb 2015
Me without you is like,
            A sneaker without laces,
A geek without braces,
                AsentenceWithoutSpaces.
#girlfriend
julian Jan 2010
i am the melting sun beams dripping from the children's running sneaker...creeping slow into the ocean of nose hairs sparkling with iodine and rosemary...father farther to the cosmic goop of motherhood and magic mounds of twirling gases...rancid beef so evergreen as if the princess is licking loudly on the frogs back...green of colour my third eye melts her fantasy into rainbows of toxic firearms...leaking valuable oil all over her wedding dress...come into the third eye and hammer away the truths of 1000 years...to fowrad this message is to embrace all that is the third eye...magic and numbers spiral towards the center edge of my reason...pure and criticized like goblins with tiny feet...reach up into your third eye and pull yourself into it with all your power and all your might....stay with it for just one night and reach for the spare tires in the third eyes trunk...don't forget to fill it with melting bubbles of fantastic hot sweet golden ratios where infinity smell like dust bunnies and dust bunnies smell like crystal salts and volcanic ash...spew forth third eye and share the vision of ecstasy and freedom...never cover the third eye with hate and regret only wash it with happiness and fullness...let the third eye rule your heart and towers will melt into concrete and paper will fill the sky...only the can the third eye truly be the way to see your path....spiral softly third eye and forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and forever see with the third eye....
Jennifer Jan 2018
My first pair,
Limited edition ‘05 altitude 13’s
The black mesh upper and the green sole
The stares I would get just for having them
There’s a story behind every pair
From 1’s to 23’s
The anticipation of getting close
to the release date
Feeling the actual shoe on the foot
for the first time
The feel of the leather, the suede,
The nubuck, the netting
and the carbon fiber,
The color way and the uniqueness
Oozing from every little detail
Owning a total of 20 pairs of Jordans
At once feels like nothing.
It becomes an addiction owning them.
Taking care of them as if one little smudge
Will be the end of the world.
The way the laces link together with the shoes
Like a spider's web
The sneaker talk with another sneakerhead
It flows off the tongue like sweet honey
I will forever have a passion for my sneakers.
Scott A Grant Nov 2009
Confronted on a 20 year quote
What it means to you
Your misunderstanding
It was kinda dope
Shared among twitter fam
No private joy is mention
Brand name speaks first
Others see the sneaker
(c) 2010
Allen Wilbert Feb 2014
Opposites

happy, mad
joy, sad
in, out
silent, shout
sunny, rain
pleasure, pain
big, small
Spring, Fall
rich, broke
serious, joke
win, lose
sober, *****
red, blue
false, true
pencil, pen
Barbie, Ken
up, down
smile, frown
Every word has an opposite,
I deserve a national monument.
walk, run
knife, gun
sneaker, shoe
me, you
****, ****
hit, miss
night, day
straight, gay
woman, man
bottle, can
No one is better than me,
that's the way it will always be.
It's time again it's that Onomatopoeia
Is it a verse is it fire a spicy meatball mama Mia!
Mario warped in those pipes couldn't see ya
Wouldn't wanna be ya look at my sneaker
Nike do it like me I ****** what I want I do t fear ya
Taking it all like I was on my billy and Mandy grim reaper
Another challenge word Onomatopoeia
imagine aluminum Aug 2010
the lion pack traveling side
by side, though not evenly;
colliding shoulder to shoulder
territorial and instinctual.

trying to tame the manes
beneath logo-baring headgear,
hoping to hide soulful eyes
behind dark shades of plastic.

clothing loose to make up
for skin too tight, laughter
bouncing off cement and
rubber sneaker soles.

that musky scent of male
mingling with each individual
mixture of hopes and dreams
hits me in full force, leaving me
at a standstill long after the last
of you has passed me by.
Wade Redfearn May 2010
Most mornings are not clear.
Most mornings are not the type with a
ten-state view from the top of
Clingman's Dome, and two very expensive
tanks of gasoline. You're welcome.

No, most mornings are battered
by some kind of weather condition -
rains and drizzles and nebulous fogs,
unhappy bedmates, a productive cough -
or else the sun just remits,
stays dozing until it has slept enough.

Then you get that gray sky-
chalkboard, the punitive slap of
humid cold on your early walks, your
coffee rendezvous. Then you have
too many garments at 3 because you put
on extra at 8. Morning, in short,
wishes you ill.

Be aware that if you were born
this century, you lurched into no
midwife's hands, full of love and wet, but
a surgeon's, gloved and powdery,
who spanked you firmly, knocked you
down with a commanding stare, and gave you
the first of many cuts you were to receive.

But for having woken up, let's say,
on the wrong side of the bed (if
even there's a right one), I would
like to think we've done alright,
are not too warm or upset at midday,
not too disappointed in ourselves, our moments
of astounding social gracelessness
that we leave like bits of sneaker in our wake.

Still, though, a question:
where grows happiness? Where sprouts
the silver trunk, the cypress or birch? Or
ficus or orange or ginkgo biloba? Tell me.
I would tap that tree 'til it withers, and die
under its trunk, and the two very expensive
tanks of gasoline it took
to get me where I am.
Just ask me.
There I go down on my knees,
And let me just tell you its not my first time.

This is not what I want, let me put it simply...
I'm ******.

Do you hear me screaming?
No you don't, No you don't.

This is me crying out deliriously.
I want love, I want attention...
I want a ******* chance.
Your not givin' it up and I can't stand the sight of you...
or you, or you.

No, let me rephrase this.

I am delirious from starvation.
I am not eating or sleeping
And my insides are twisting
And I am missing these arms that I created to hold me,
For you see my mind has now left me.
I see you there and
I want so badly for that girl to be here...
right here... but she's not.

So I am on my knees with this load in my mouth,
metaphorically and literally.

Does anyone ******* hear me!?

Does anyone see me becoming smaller and smaller until one day I am nothing more than your old favorite pair of sneakers, worn out and torn.That you put in a bag and gave to Goodwill, that now lies in a landfill smelling of ****.
Randy Vera Nov 2013
"BUG"

I saw a Bug Battle,
in the cracks of the street Blood and Struggle
Their plastic screams and cellophane curses were almost like yours and mine.
Until a brave one crawled to my ear,
and he told me of his trial in the street crack theater,
I grinned as if I cared, he smiled like he had the time
He said "in whose camp does your banner fly, and can I have you on my side?"
He loaded a Pistol while I replied:
I said: I'm anti-pro no shout catechist, so keep your pamphlets political activist,
You take your cause for lack of a purpose in life,
pursuit of happiness, "eudemonia"  good spiritedness
you're living proof that ignorance aint bliss
Pray "Libira nos a malo!" and Free Tibet!
But you never prayed for the souls with affixed Bayonets;
so I wave like the man being shot from the cannon;
born on this chunk of warm rock hurling through nothing;
who only on the front of spirit can fight;
Storm the Bastille of desperate life;
and dance in the street every night till the day I die.
The Bug Replied:
Know All, Know all, in the dialog to win,
two grants are a Franklyn one Lincoln's just a fin?
Posit value for this bug since you're so well balanced,
gaining perspective from the outermost valence;
you never killed what you eat and confuse "labor with action,"
  but you think you're to evolved to fight for my faction;
We're currency baby as we live and breed,
BASTILLE for you ATTICA for me!
better get in the frae my anti anti teacher
before it ***** you along with every other fighting creature;
I'm going back to me cell where I breathe a little freer;
but let me give a final though like I'm Jerry Springer:
If happiness is purpose than you can call my purpose love,
to survive I fight the Battle and to me you're the bug.
Thunderstruck, I sat on the curb,
realizing I could be a "social surd;"
then I saw my small confessor get killed in a raid;
I would have stomped out his assassin if I wasn't so afraid;
instead I rose to my feet, and walked straight home,
locked myself in, and wrote out this song,
I think of the bug while I'm dancing in the street,
every time my neighbor throughs a sneaker at me;
I feel his wrestles spirit longing to fight,
while I'm drinking and singing in the middle of the night,
than it hits me:
The bug was right
Anais Vionet Apr 2024
Sunrise was just a red line in the inky void, as Lisa and I reached the harbor decking stairs,
but at once, the brazen slash began widening, like a silent, slow motion explosion,  
thin, smoky wisps of cloud, like flammable tissue, prismed the stage light ignition.

bee-de-deep my phone chirped. It was Peter (my bf).
“Hey you,” I pronounced, as Lisa took off her left sneaker and shook it, upside-down.  
“How’s the harbor?” Peter asked. I glanced at my watch, it was 5:32 am in New Haven.
Peter must be at lunch (in Geneva) and tracking our morning run with the ‘Find My’ app.
“Beautiful,” I pronounced, “they’re really putting on a show.”
Of course, I meant the universe, the sun, the turns who were already at work, and Long Island Sound.
The gulls, perched on whatever, and grousing at each other, obviously haven’t had their coffee.
I read that AI had decoded bird talk and on a wire, they chittered, “Move over, you’re in my space.”

“Just wanted to say good morning,” Peter confessed, “Good Morning.”
“Good morning,” I wished back, “gotta go,” I replied, Lisa had finished de-pebbling her shoe.
“Yep,” Peter agreed, “Seee ya,” he quipped. “See ya,” I chuckled, smiling.
My watch asked, in my Air Podded ears, “Have you finished your workout?” because I was motionless.
I pressed the crown of my watch and slid the phone back in my pocket, our jogg’s only half done.

We began our harbor exodus, by turning our backs to the haven. It was already beginning to busy with boats.
We slipped on our hats and protective, polarized sunglasses as we began to run directly into the blazing sun.
.
.
Songs for this:
Sail on Sailor by the Beach Boys
Dancing in the moonlight by Toploader
Cold Heart - PNAU Remix by Elton John, Dua Lipa, PNAU
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Exodus: a departure or in the bible, a mass emigration situation.
Logan Robertson Nov 2018
In a shoe box he sits
Quietly watching the darkness
Sitting forlorned
He's a sneaker
A loafer
Tied in laces
And hidden in shine
Alone
As his eyelets sag
With hopes the light peeks in
An envelope
Finding his leather
If only he could feel a touch
A foot
Feet
Interaction
A women's toes that wiggle
On those cold and lonely nights
Where inhabitation brings comfort
If only
He
His shoes
It could be fitted and fulfilled
Tailored and shined
And not be a beaten path
With wishful thinking
Of a women's toes that wiggle
For now though
A shoe horn would be the panacea
His hope
From being shelved
Hidden
In a shoebox he sits
Looking at the darkness
At the four walls corrugated
In lost time
Oblivious
Of walking

Logan Robertson

11/24/2018
For some, life isn't roses. Red blossoms on sunny days. And others, him, sit watching the barren trees of the fall. In their obscurity they are torn.
Macho Mole Mar 2020
It is more than I deserve. It is perfection. It is the perfect Sneaker, perfect in price, perfect in design, and perfect in appearance, and a perfect fit. My new Sneakers are everything I want to be.

They are Sneakers worn by Angels, who are only used to walking on clouds, and so demand a Sneaker that is fit for cloud walking. In fact wearing these Sneakers is like walking on Cloud 9, click https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WHOrtW4PJm8&list=RDWHOrtW4PJm8&start_radio=1&t=53.

Each step bathes my foot in pleasure and is an invitation to dance, or run like a gazelle. I love looking down and see my Sneakers looking up. "We are perfect for sneaking around in comfort, ya wanna sneak up on someone or even sneak up on a tiger, we're your Sneakers, silent, unobtrusive, splashes of blood, simply wash off. We are the perfect Sneakers for the fashionable predator, we provide silent service".

"We cushion every step, we cushion the steps of kings and queens, and we cushion the steps of career criminals, we don't discriminate. We are fit for every foot. We are fit for the newly married, and the newly divorced.

We are more than you deserve".
Lauren Cole Apr 2015
Swing swing
Kick a pebble into the distance
My sneaker leaving tracks in the dirt
Beneath me
The shadow of the tree
caresses my cheek
And I feel free

On the upswings I am happy
On the down I am "okay"
If I am pushed I may fall
If I am pushed I may soar
I close my eyes
Recline my mind
Inhale and realize what life
is truly for.
I really want to go to the park and swing. Also kinnnnnd of contemplating the meaning of life? #deep
traces of being Jan 2017
Your poignant silence spoke
             with the voice
    a thousand unspoken lies,
       the kind of  little sins
    that wear away the soul

    An obscure grain of salt,
       awakening dissolved,
      in a vast saline ocean
   of life’s ever fugitive tides

       Chasing rogue waves
       across deepest oceans;
          carried away to be
willingly drown in a sea of love,
          a mystic blackness
far beyond the cresting breakers'
  fomenting meringue riptides

   From the headland cliffs above,
           a lone  shore pine
           leaned windward
       out over land and sea,
    tough skinned roots cling
        bared by prevailing
          winds' migration

        Smoothly calloused
       by the blowing sands
       eroding the sapwood
         atop the petrified
          heartwood rings
            of untold time

        Abiding on the cusp
      of falling farther down
          than any ordinary
               directionless
        semblance measured
              nor bona fide

   The nebulous distance back
     an unbridgeable breadth
           long since buried,
n'er to be forgotten milestones,
   abandoned without a trace,
 like footprints blowin' in sand
     erased by the prevailing
             westerly winds

     Illusions of fallen mileposts
          counted backwards,
        undone clicks beyond
       the abacus beads reach

    Was it the untrodden space
      between distant horizon's
   unreachable scope of reason ?

                No way back
               was etched on
         the last thrown stone

       The broken inland hills
   are neither mirage nor oasis
   bit by bit washing out to sea
  
             A turning point,
        compass drawn away
   with the arrows convention.
     Without magnetic north
       an arrowhead courses
    with the silence of a trees'
           uncounted rings
         of benign measure

        Felled by gale winds
         of tempest change,
       weather-beaten feeder roots
     no longer strong enough
   to grasp all that failed to be

       Old wood is not soluble
            like salted silence
        ebbs away unnoticed
      as life’s evanescent tides

           ...“love always
       was just chosen words
           I longed to realize …

                 timeworn
       smoldering intentions,
         a blown out candle's
    blackened wick remnants

   Another sobering salutation  
         to look the other way
      without saying goodbye ―

             A lump in throat
            swallowed silently
           abides deeply within  
              without choice;
       lost hope buried beneath
       enduring sneaker waves
                unsettledness

               The memories
          of her muted words
             drowning out all
         I could never become
    
            Sadly recognizing
           it was only a dream;
  convinced we were really doing
             something special
               Now knowing
     it's like crashing high surf
       that never left the shore ...

          Tonight in the throes
            this restless silence,
                 you can see
       it's still raining down hard

            There's no reason
           to even go outside;

            there's no shelter
             from the storm
           that washes over me

                       forever
         Chasing Rogue Waves
                           ...
             These shards of rain
   were never heaven's teardrops

       Tears are the heart's traces
     and,... I've got no time to cry


wild is the wind ... January 25th, 2017
Joseph Childress Sep 2014
In due time
I’ll pay what’s owed
Alone for the load of old moves
Payback for loans to sell dreams for a minute
Pimpish
If it’s crazy to be owned by the past I will be finished
Listened
To the choir to acquire what was missing
My soul is tired
Worn like treads of tires
Sneaker soles and old attire
Suited with attributes of a brute
Uncouth in the present of the future forbearing
Telling what’s apparent
Yet no one will listen
Forever imprisoned by debt
Even bankruptcy is too much to afford
Lawyers are costly
Hard to invest in freedom
I’m left
Like the wrong hand
Gambling for the chance
To win
Signing on lines
Next to x’s
Trying to buy back.....
Trying....
I’m trying to...
****...

I need my ******* soul back!
Zoë Jul 2015
I don't remember how many cars passed,
Or if I saw Orion's belt.
I don't remember the night's smell,
Or what shoes I wore on my feet.
All I remember,
Is how much it hurt.
Tears rolled down my cheeks,
Soaking through my jeans when I neglected to wipe them away.
My sudden disbelief,
Hung in the soggy night air,
Like cigarette smoke.
Reality's hands tightened around my neck,
Choking me with the truth.
At some point
In that dark hazy hour,
My trust slipped through my fingers,
As quickly as a Sunday evening.
Nothing was "to be or not to be"
Between you and me.
For there is no such thing.
I simply tripped on strings of promises,
And sweet words that unraveled my sneaker laces,
only to bleed my trust all over you.
Sore and delusional,
I wrapped my heart up with a bow,
And gave you my love over and over again.
Although I didn't even consider for a moment,
That you would use it
to destroy me.

— The End —