"snit" poems
In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set
orbit nearly closed,
the radio announcer gleefully
chirruping, the twittering fool,
"only ** graves to X off till
spring"
the weight of the prior
the wait of the more
no matter how little
yet to come
too much insufferable
having suffered
multiple life sentences
you snit **** u don't know better,
ha, they don't even run
concurrently
there are no sunsets
in the girding grays
of harsher enough and words that fail me,
are the winners in the
winter of the ****
tests and hunts,
I have successfully
failed
of course I'm wrong you
petulant hobgoblin wringing
nyet from me you'll get no concession,
**** science,
there are no sunsets in the winter
and the sunrises,
short unsweetened,
light-less, less of less,
frigid glaring revealers
of dead trees
and deader
men
maybe in the Rockies,
perhaps the Alps,
wonderlands photoshopped,
pretty lies on the Internet BS posted
where I live,
wear the wear the weary
neath the sweat stink of layers of
unbundled choking hands,
winter's damage
assessed and assessment is
never overdue, payable in
immediacy
heating bills I can't pay,
a job that said no more of you,
unpretty please,
a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself
right freaking black magic quick,
trust me I have certified verified,
me and Nixon,
X's on the kitchen calendar,
there is daylight, there is mighty night,
almighty in long and colorless
and nothing in between,
but the smog stained slush of
smothered life
but definitely
no sunrises and no sunsets
watched all day from the
imprisoning kitchen window
which doubles
as a **** you
mirror
there are no, not any,
you know what,
cannot even say them,
the pipe dreams of better yet,
pipes that have beaten down
me and my
disassociated senses,
signed sealed and now delivered,
from the formerly known as
The Summer Man
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
I read
a digital sign today,
it went something like this..
"Some mistakes are too ****** cool to make only once"
To which my head replied... 'or twice for that matter'.
I don't understand myself when everything goes my way
but I carry a big ten inch snit...
This morning I found
a silver ring and an empty bottle of
FIREBALL Cinnamon Whisky.
I have never drank the stuff but it sounds as bad as White Shark,
a hanged over in a glass vessel.
What a way to start the day, day two on the way to breaking the cigarette habit..
I have to on the count of they're killing me.. But I love my smoke.
Thank you God for the e-cigarette.. I love love, love you, oh thank you Lord!
And the puff-puff-pass doesn't help,
I have to buy stock in Halls Cough Drops,
I use them so much I've had to take a second mortgage out on the house that I will never own.
Anyway, the lady's gone to bed and I have music floatin' in my head.. was ****** most of the day
but you can't keep a good man down.
end © 2014
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
If I could figure out the snit that I’m in now,
and understand the state, and how I got there
then perhaps I’ll get a sense of where I’m heading,
or at least from where I started this long journey.
My mind is shackled like a prisoner on the lam
and crashing out for freedom’s choice or bust.
I must admit I’m crazy from the fever,
and searching for the answers never found.
There was Martin, and John and Gandhi too
teaching love ins, peace and happiness.
We wrote and sang and made love in bushes
While celebrating Woodstock Nation.
But, we had Tricky **** and Kissinger
insisting on a war that no one wanted.
The killing fields stretched cross the ocean
to my backyard and yours, remember?
So choose my brethren, choose between
a war of blood, dismay and torture
or of peace and love and happiness,
and a place called Woodstock Nation.
Jan 2, 2011
Jan 2, 2011 at 12:27 PM UTC
They came in a large silver beast,
Cutting through the water and out icy front lawns,
Foggy air blasting from the great monster’s spout,
It made a loud hollow noise never heard before.
Then it was quiet.
The ice crunching under the beast’s belly stopped,
The air stopped pouring out of its spout,
And its horrid voice had ceased its calling.
This “animal” was still.
Onto the ice nearby it set down a fin,
Or something of the like and soon enough…
Smaller creatures came.
These new creatures stood on their two back legs
Like the polar bears when they’re in a snit.
Yet they never went down on their front legs like most of the rest of us.
They didn’t have much fur on them and no feathers to speak of.
They had no tails, no beaks, or snouts…
They were strange things that we watched from our burrows,
But they bothered no one.
At first…
Then some of us started disappearing.
Some never to come back, but those who did…
They weren’t the same any more and more often than not
There was some clear thing around their necks or legs.
Suddenly those creatures from the silver beast
Posed a threat.
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 6:33 PM UTC
As militant Mullahs mutter and pray
And plan their Mosque near ground Zero
Protesters march and people say:
“This isn't right! They'll have to go.”
But let's demur and make no noise
No tears, no threats, no signs approve.
It would profane our civic faith
To tell the Mullah he must move.
The Towers’ fall brought harm and fear
Men reckon what that did and meant;
But building a “cultural Center” near
Though demonized, is innocent.
Dull couch potatoes of the Right
Those ditto heads who can't admit
Tolerance, cause it doth reprove
Those thoughts that have them in a snit.
But we, my love, are so refined
that we ourselves don't care one whit.
Let them build it, come what may
But build a brothel next to it.
Two buildings place there, cheek to cheek:
the Mosque and “Annie’s House of Pain”.
One dealing with things spiritual,
The other deals with things profane.
In both, salvation is for sale
It seems to me a perfect fit.
For do not both invoke God's name?
-and both, I fear, use whips a bit.
students at the Madrasah may
hear the cries of Joy next door
on her mattress, hard at play
While they use prayer mats on the floor.
.
Will they too prove as tolerant?
Live and let live, for now- they say
When they enforce Sharia law,
The folks next door will learn to pray.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 8:54 PM UTC
A pity Yvonne alas has passed on in a most regrettable way.
She wasn't quite a snit cuz she jus couldn't ****
and hadn't been many a day.
So she sent Ernie out for enimas no doubt
and while he was still on the road,
Yvonne took a chance by dropping her pants while running toward the commode.
In a tangle of jeans, frustrated screams and a splintering bathroom door,
Her *** met the glass as intestinal gas burst forth with a thunderous roar.
The bowl couldn't take the force of the quake,
It rained down like porcelain Hail.
Some people say five miles away it hit six on the Richter scale.
I miss dear Yvonne, now that she's gone, taken from us much too soon.
Sometimes I cry as I gaze up in the sky and wave and she orbits the moon.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
Dear music. I just worked up the nerve to tell you
A few things. Just feelings that I have been having
For a long time.
This is not easy for me. You are such a lovely thing.
Your changing moods leave me confused as soon as I. Think
You are one way. Bang there you go. Leaving me at scratch.
Music my love
All my life you have been a part.
You own my heart.
I cannot speak your language
Not for lack of trying.
Many times I have awakened,crying in the throes of some sweet.refrain
Torturing my heart from some distant place.
Time.
Every inch of your body I strivem to touch
As you aged you grew more grand/elegant
Another side of you I Had never seen walks up to my door.
Some new conjure and twist reminds me of so
much of you that I have missed,
My guitar rests in my hand
every now and then. laughing
at my infidelity. lack of attention.
My Saxophone sits in a fetal pose.
In a corner in a case in a snit.
Music honey.This is a one way love
Thing.
Sweet.
My bass/baritone vocal
needs you too.
Please music
I'm begging you
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 5:13 AM UTC
A pity Yvonne alas has passed on in a most regrettable way.
She wasn't quite a snit cuz she jus couldn't ****
and hadn't been many a day.
So she sent Ernie out for enimas no doubt
and while he was still on the road,
Yvonne took a chance by dropping her pants while running toward the commode.
In a tangle of jeans, frustrated screams and a splintering bathroom door,
Her *** met the glass as intestinal gas burst forth with a thunderous roar.
The bowl couldn't take the force of the quake,
It rained down like porcelain Hail.
Some people say five miles away it hit six on the Richter scale.
I miss dear Yvonne, now that she's gone, taken from us much too soon.
Sometimes I cry as I gaze up in the sky and wave and she orbits the moon.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC
A MAN CALLED SHAUN
Each morning at six thirty
Arrived a man in white
Pushed his cart, through the door
And then, turned on the light
We could hear him coming
Right from the very start
Because, we heard the jingling
From the tubes, stacked in his cart
Each morning that whole week
He’d rouse us from our sleep
So I planned revenge
On that little creep
I said to roommate Warner
Don’t say a single word
Today’s the day that payback
At last will be incurred
“Good morning Ja” he whispers
“Are you by chance awake”
I pretend I’m fast asleep
Not a single move, I make
“Can I take some blood”
He sounds a bit disturbed
So I just lay there quietly
I’m not the one perturbed
He says “O.K.”
“I’ll do Mr. Warner first”
I’m thinking to myself “That’s great”
“Go ahead and do your worst”
I lay in wait
Till he returned
I hadn’t moved
I hadn’t turned
As he came close
I snored a bit
I knew that he
Was in a snit
“It’s me Shaun again”
“Are you awake”
I thought “Of course I’m not”
“Give me a break”
“Give me your arm”
“This won’t take long”
I thought, “O.K.”
I’ll play along
I extend my arm
He grabs my hand
And on my bicep
Ties a band
“Just a little pinch”
“And then, we’re done”
That’s exactly when
I planned my fun
As the needle pierces me
I scream like ****** hell
He’s taken by surprise
He starts to scream as well
He drops the tubes
And his tray
I’m laughing hard
What can I say
“I’m sorry Ja”
“What did I do”
“To cause this pain”
“Did I hurt you”
I laugh so hard
My stomach hurts
Into our room
The head nurse bursts
“What’s going on”
“Is someone hurt”
“Shaun stuck my arm”
I laugh and blurt
“Now look, old man”
“It’s not allowed”
“To on this ward”
“Be so loud”
“Another outburst”
“Of this sort”
“And I will put you”
“On report”
I’m laughing still
And Warner too
Warner can’t stop
He’s turning blue
The nurse gets mad
“This day you’ll rue”
“It’s the ****** ward”
“For the both of you”
Poor Shaun is lost
Still holds my hand
Proceeds to take
That rubber band
Puts all his things
In his tray
Takes his cart
And walks away
Said not a word
And to his bane
We never did
See Shaun again
BOEMS BY JA 287
True story. Sadly, my roommate Warren didn’t make it. Written in hospital 2014.
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 10:14 AM UTC
No need to ramble
no need to fret
no need
going home in a snit
All day
every day
I wake up
and know I'm blessed
I'm my
only front man
and this
you have to understand
Not going anywhere
I haven't planned
Each road can be rocky
sometimes it's a smooth sail
Nobody has the answer
nobody knows what's Noah and the whale
I found out I found this out
move with a groove
that gives one safe passage
Don't be buggered by
some tarts eye lashes
Knock yourself out
let ink bleed from your veins
If you didn't call all in
I would think that was strange.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 10:24 PM UTC
A pity Yvonne alas has passed on
In a most regrettable way.
She was in quite a snit
'Cause she just couldn't ****
And hadn't in many a day.
So she sent Ernie out
For enemas no doubt
And while he was still on the road
Yvonne took a chance
By dropping her pants
While running toward the commode.
In a tangle of jeans
Frustrated screams
And a splintering bathroom door
Her *** met the glass
As intestinal gas
Burst forth with a thunderous roar.
Th bowl couldn't take
The force of the quake
It rained down like porcelain hail.
Some people say
Five miles away
It hit six on the richter scale.
I miss dear Yvonne
Now that she's gone
Taken from us much too soon.
Sometimes I cry
As I gaze up in the sky
And wave as she orbits the moon...
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 5:16 AM UTC
**** Im so stressed
Why is it I obsess about every little thing
about how I cant sleep and how then that leads my mind to creep,
searching here searching there searching every ******* where to find some peace
but my mind is in a snit and it weeps so this stress just sits and steeps
an insidious build up in where my mind gets filled up
with all this ******* garbage leaving me feeling ********
and no one really knows my inner struggle and dealing with the constent self rebuttal
Its so tedious this obsessive mental stressing but at least I have my poetry and release my feelings openly
never worrying of appearing weak and vulnerable or making others feel uncomfortable
So regarless how many times I cry and at times feel like I wanna die, I just know theres more to life....
-E.G
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 4:08 AM UTC
I'm the girl who tells you
What you don't want to hear
Hate me, if you want
Your problem is very clear
If my words get you all caught up in a snit
****** ******* Stop doing stupid ****
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC