"spacey" poems
capable but unmotivated,
love being different, hate being misunderstood,
impulsive long term planner.
strange mix of super private and open book.
rational yet unrealistic.
great at giving advice, bad at following it.
arrogant, but painfully aware of my flaws
sure of myself, yet unassuming
introverted extrovert,
rigorous yet care-free,
perpetual loner with tons of friends.
energetic but lazy,
sensitive, yet cold hearted
gregarious yet studious,
intelligent but spacey,
personal, yet detached.
unhealthy, yet understanding therapist,
competitive mediator.
The optimist who just wants to see the world burn.
Where do I fit in?
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 7:24 AM UTC
my mind is a planetarium
where each memory is a meteorite
and every apology burns like a dying star.
enclosed in the vast celestial stretch of my skull,
planets tend to vanish without the courtesy of a goodbye,
but i'm just happy to have housed them for a little while.
my projector is faulty and sometimes,
the images i try to convey become obscured
("asteroids may be larger than they appear").
i can't help but speak in broken constellations,
and hope that you somehow understand
that i have nothing but the best intentions.
not to mention, i've seen a lot of visitors, though
none have ever stayed for long, after they've surveyed
that i'm nothing more than a bunch of chaotic galaxies.
i rubbed the collection of stardust and debris from my eyes
and to my surprise, found that you hadn't gone anywhere.
instead, you were there, floating through my solar systems.
you've got me orbiting around your finger
like the rings around the sixth planet from the sun.
i come undone a little more with every word you breathe.
my bones are made of moon rock, aching like cold craters,
waiting patiently for the radiant warmth of the sun,
or your breath, or your touch, whichever is closest.
the most stellar display of stars i have ever seen
are not in the belt of orion, nor anywhere within the milky way -
instead they are lightyears beyond, resting comfortably behind your lips.
- m.f.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 2:44 AM UTC
The man from Pakistan.
Not much of my language did he speak.
He couldn't understand my proper English.
So how could we my sanity seek.
Yes he was my shrink.
My misfortune for several years.
So we never made much progress.
Dealing with my silly fears.
I wished that he would help me.
So I tried to coerce him as best as I could.
All of this choosing my words,
did me absolutely no good.
I said I was felling spacey from the pills he
had given me.
He said you think you are an alien,
that is plain to see.
So he threatened me with
institutionalization or hospital.
The big house to be sure.
Luckily, I convinced him, right here as
I lay on his couch, with him, we could find a cure.
As he picked up on his English.
My progress became quite quick.
The silly man thought it his miracle that
I was not so sick.
He got a better offer, from a clinic far away.
He left without a good-bye.
I wonder if he appreciated the English lessons
I wonder to this day.
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 7:56 PM UTC
Crashing off caffeine.
My body's in a wet dream.
Spazzing,
orgasmically
twitching as I'm switching
up the rhyme scheme
with a little bad timing.
I'm spacey like Kevin.
I get **** like Mooney.
Looney-toony in the boonies
gettin lucky like Slevin.
Super nerdy like Melvins.
Getting heated in Kelvins.
In a spectrum
I'm extreme
like 1000 baby screams
or something obscene
like genocidal regimes
dumping bodies downstream
with severed heads in their ******
I'm darker than my complexion.
Come in! Your more than welcome.
Just let me wipe the slate clean.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:05 AM UTC
I'm not trying to be needlessly edgy or ****
But can we lay off Kevin all up in yo Spacey?
I know it seems wrong
But I feel I can understand
Or at least relate
Because when I feel too much love in my heart
For somebody younger
Who is a guy
I start doing crazy ****
Like projecting my life onto his
Maybe he's scared
Maybe he's alone
Maybe I could save someone from that
I have to remind myself that was just me
And that there is no such thing as salvation
When your mistakes are supercharged
Because of the scandalous homosexual element
Yet there's no one to turn to
Because nobody understands
So your actions become louder to drown the silence
The stakes of the mischief grow
There's tens of thousands of dollars in property damage
That can be attributed to my sexuality
You have to find a way to push past that
The only way I found
Is to be open about who you are
Because until then the fear will consume you
You fear they will laugh, mock, judge and hate you
Until you wish they were silent again
And they will do all these things
And you will wish all those things
But you'll be able to face it with strength and honesty
Because your fear is more powerful than their callousness
But more importantly it's better than the alternative
When people discover your nature
Through a mistake you've made
And unleash the wrath of God
They will never give a ****
About how they contribute to these moments
They're only there to throw gas on the fire
They say it's a mistake to ****** a minor
They say it's a mistake to be a whiner
And there's no one who'll ever take your call
Expecting them to understand
Well, that's the biggest mistake of them all
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 2:51 AM UTC
☆
*"Our sweet children, where have you been?
We're waiting for you outward the ingress,
Admitting : you nowhere were seen
As you are: each — an enraptured princess!"
☆
Vivacious shades on your ethno coat
Emphasise your femininity;
Bastet at heart — best childrens lifeboat!
Spacey gray cap: fairish and witty —
☆
It suits you — dear darling — shared hugs
Of wellcome! Lively, charming's your gaze
As young Notre~Dame; and blue scarabs
Are lit on your kind fortunate face.
☆
The theatre lady, the dreamer,
The writer, the thinker, you're teacher,
Performer, a woman, protector
Creator, great mother, old friend!*
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
Some very good friends sat around in their basement
I think we've all been here before
The room of course was smokey and wasted
The four buddies were bored right out of their gourds
They all thought they should do something special
So they decided to build a rocket ship
Throwing a bunch of old plywood together
They then sat around, smoked some more, and planed their spacey trip
Jody spoke up first and said let's go to the moon
But they'd heard that had already been done
That's when he came up with the brightest idea
I know what! We'll go to the sun!
Go to the sun?! We may be high but we're not crazy!!
They replied, this ships made out of wood
That's when Jody explained his brilliant idea
Nodding like Bobble Head dolls they all understood
As Jody dug deeper into his intricate plan
All the guys seemed to like it a lot
They would go when it's dark in the middle of night
When the suns put out and it isn't so hot
Since Jody's the genius, they put him in charge
He seems to have a grasp on what's left of his brain
There were four of them but only room for two
They drew straws 'cause they were having difficulty remembering their names
The straws turned out to be the same length
Cutting them, somebody forgot
So they picked Jody as their Captain Kirk
And Jason as his sidekick Spock
Out in left field, the excitement was contagious
Jody yelled, 'To infinity and Beyond'
They knew that quote came from some famous movie
But had a memory lapse so they gave him more Bobble Head nods
At that point they realized they had no engine
Being impaired, not a one of them cared
They all went back down into the basement
And took another kind of trip without going anywhere
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
****
I slipped
and
fell backwards.
Stood up on my own two feet
so as not to look awkward
but I staggered with an Obama like swagger.
I beg of you,
**** please, can we go a lil faster?
For my life expectancy
I am not the master.
I got kids and bills
legacy of a broke *******
If I was Cancer
it'd be a disaster
cause Medicare don't take kindly to me
I owe badly.
Sadly, it's the truth
and I'ma King
and yet still get treated like
I don't have a dream!
Beams of light hit this planet
so beautiful and amazing
and yet we still take it for granted
having all these babies
without no savings.
Gotta steal and not ****
to get by lately.
Call my creditors maybe
hopin' to get a better rate
on my **** cravings.
Feel like I'm from K-Pax
stuck like Kevin Spacey.
Hate me if you want.
I don't give a ****
You can live my life
I'll take yours and run a muck!
Dear Abby,
please don't confuse this
I really don't wanna do this
suicidal thoughts are useless.
Proved foolish
clueless is what I am
to sucka's actin' dufus!
Radio Raheim,
I know he rocked two fist.
My Mama could really give two *****
I'm too ******
Abused by a ****
she ain't
taken no ****
She too ruthless.
You can call her Brutus.
If I'm taken too long
then go to another booth den (then)!
Two pens,
write with both hands.
Call me Ambidex-trian. (Ambidexterity)
If you Mexican
maybe you can request again.
Send me back from Iran
holdin' two cans.
Livin' on the streets
beggin' like po man.
Served this country
and can't get a helping hand.
Take a stand!
Remember when we used to believe in
Unite We Stand?
Yeah right!
What a joke we plan!
When words spoken to those just a slogan.
Big ups to Joe Rogan!
Knockin' nigga's out
wit' one blow man.
These words I deliver
like the local post man.
So-cam
I mean So-com
That's my sons favorite game...
Jun 17, 2011
Jun 17, 2011 at 1:34 AM UTC
Broken, life seeping.
Gutsy and lawless:
Gunpoint switchblade
Only seeing, never sleeping.
Groan and crawl, muck and mud
Run and **** Push my luck, down over.
Over and over again. Head over heels
Brain splatter banana peels.
Spacey air, musty sight.
Cold nights in the cold earth.
Bent and spent, came and went.
Statement of your rebirth.
Voices drowning down salt streams.
Craters on Retna Moon; green beams.
Too many visitors. No hesitation.
Sleeping beauty, my proclamation.
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 10:09 PM UTC
- know you see me
semper dreamy
slip-ping on - and - off
in the spacey place
almost convinced , (was it?)
“empire free me ,
soldiers see me ,
envious armies are after me
because broken me is all they see
i patch my self invisibly --”
so in retreat i lay my self,
an icon to vanity and decay-
soon enough i know the soldiers may
hunt, may find, may trap, may bind
never right - NEVER WRITE ,
always blind
inside my rotten mind ,
(oh it was) it was not -
naught but tongue twists and brain rot
easy enough to force, forget
the pleasantness of title : Pet -
was it, will it, could I build it ?
it never will -
it never was -
a different thought ,
for beggars sought
to free them from their cups and coins -
to seek release from their ***** -
along the railroad tracks out back
we find the air is acrid, black
and children polish stones for sale
for some enormous, bloated whale
that cracks the whip but bears a treat --
I have Orders I must meet .
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 12:10 AM UTC
Tracy Batman
Give me one reason,
and I’ll turn back around,
almost past The Point of No Return,
and see no point in turning back now,
like Tracy Chapman or Bruce Wayne Batman,
or Tracy Morgan or Morgan The Captain,
or better yet a Spacey Captain or a spacey Batman,
just not a Kevin Spacey because we all know what happened,
oh no no fake strangers only straight facts fam,
you see I see the whole thing through I’m not a flash in the pan scam,
I’m beginning till end from lights camera action to it’s a wrap man,
gone till November,
leaving on a jet plane to Denver,
more Tracy Chapman than Tracy Morgan,
more Jon Wayne than Jon Denver,
more Honcho than Jon Doe,
more Pronto than Macho,
more Brando than Tonto,
full throttle no point in turning back now,
wow,
only time I feel alive is when I almost die,
we do like vroom vroom we do we don’t try,
no need to try to live that life when you really live that life,
why sail the high seas when you can reach Heaven and fly,
living The Life of Lives,
living the Dream of Dreams,
and you’re looking at me,
like “What do you mean?”,
I mean,
for real,
for really real,
how do you really feel?
It’s 2018,
and this feels like a Sci-Fi flic,
one where we’re an Army of One,
about to deploy and I feel sick,
see every Moon has it’s dark side,
every man has something to hide,
like Nazis with a secret base on the moon,
in a film from 2012 set in 2018 entitled Iron Sky,
but instead of Pink Floyd everything’s Purple Noise,
this is the year after the Artist Formally Named Prince finally died,
and cryptos were raised from the dead like a horror story,
Tales From The Crypto or better yet Tales From The Darkside,
saw a drawing at an art exhibit in Phoenix called Sad Pony,
it was sad because it was a unicorn without a horn so the spark had died,
and now he appeared alive,
even though when you look close you see the spark has disappeared from his eyes,
and he knows he has to escape before this city gets the only thing he has left,
which is the Soul he holds dear as he marches through the pain and the fears,
and he’s ready to go already but doesn’t want to leave you behind,
so before he goes he turns on his toes and asks you one thing just to be clear,
“Are you ready to get out of here?”
Give me one reason,
and I’ll turn back around,
almost past The Point of No Return,
and see no point in turning back now,
like Tracy Chapman or Bruce Wayne Batman,
gone till November leaving on a jet plane to Denver,
more Tracy Chapman than Tracy Morgan,
more Jon Wayne than Jon Denver,
more Honcho than Jon Doe,
more Pronto than Macho,
more Brando than Tonto,
full throttle no point in turning back now…
∆ LaLux ∆
2/5/18
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 11:48 PM UTC
There is humility in astronomy, an irony in the economy of the stars, stalling me in the calm, but violent swarm of galaxies formed in the back of a speeding car from afar, coming back to bet the bank on distances, and states of gaseous faces on planets placated with servants to Satan, flagrantly begging for space ships to take them.
Take them to the place where fate is sedated, and rearranged to uncling the things estranged in the fanged perfection of the prey that pray, to place their hope in a slate to later revive from, inanimate stardom, starring from the trunk, in luckless stunts to **** outer worldly ***** that harvest seeds to weave life into the galaxies, so that we can now breathe..
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC
My outwards view, though as open
And strange as my heart, is hazy
Decisions, made in the moment are a
Testament to my mind and self; always crazy
Though I can most certainly be studious
I'm far more inclined to be lazy
You bought me roses? Thanks but,
You should know I'd prefer a daisy
I act so nice and neat, cute ain't it?
But my taste in jokes? A touch of ****
And as for my state of being, I'm rarely focused
I'm more often drifting, dreaming, spacey
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
Precipice mountain fondled the fond of fondling fountain spouting love-crusssst.
I bob this bobble-headed dead-set-on-deafening those who will or would but cannot and could not stop my pupil-dark-mind-lark sent out and over that previously spoken-of precipice of a mountain so that, and, hereby, I fly continuously into space-spacey places of radiating-planetary-beauty yet you try with futility to reach me so you never will, I am above you.
I win.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
This new man has staticky ambitions;
Believes the future needs something to do
And talks to me in straight lines
The slut-flavored pears
Now littering my yard
Are only the beginning
For the sake of misdirection,
I suggest we **** Keyser Soze
But he's stuck on his previous observation
*'I said, 'gravity's gone bad for you, girl;
Everything 'round you's up in the air.'*
'Yeah', I tell him,
'I heard you twice the first time'
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
Mediocracy...
these words I write
governed by a
standstill, at-war democracy
that's got me medio-crazy,
executively lazy
judgmentally hazy,
and lawfully spacey,
running on as their own prisoner-of-war escapees
in search of freedom from the ordinary
and overly, extraordinarily
conservative binds
that constrict the construction
of these hardly courtly,
yet ordered lines.
Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 12:31 PM UTC
i'm spacey i'm astral out of my body
out of my mind unable to conn
ect to this world and it's sys
tems begging the cosmos
to restore within me a fir
e for life a hunger for other hu
man beings i often wonder abo
ut the urge to touch some
one tenderly or my lack thereof
i am unable to connect to this
world and it's systems it's worth
less paper everyone mani
festing their biological agen
das when i'm not looking mine
leaks out of my pores like sweat
i can't help but see through th
eir motive charged words but
you have potential i want your
soul not your flesh i want to vib
rate in an alternate reality with
you i want to die and be reborn
with you i wanna chew a hole
through the wall of the ameri
can psychosis rat race for
you i am awake shak
ing your body i am
unable to connect
to this world
and it's
systems
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
My aunt is 40 years old and she was coloring
with crayons on the bathroom floor after a bad spell.
We kept them in the cabinet under the sink
so she could pull them out to calm her down,
or pull her out,
of the dream she was having over glazed eyes that weren't sleeping.
She would talk to us about silly things
that happened to her or how she met
her husband after the war in his pretty,
neat, and navy blue military jacket.
She really met my uncle
on the train to Chicago in 1977,
but we don't tell her that because it doesn't make a difference
and it won't make her feel any better.
The truth never really does that
I've learned.
That's the thing about the rest of your life.
When you're sixteen and beautiful with
a cute brown bob and eyes to match
you think you can do anything
and when you picture
the rest of your life it doesn't include
lying in a bath robe talking to your niece
about something you never did or never had
with spit on your chin and hands that need washed
coloring a picture in a book meant for kids.
You never thought you'd be stuck
being a kid
sometimes.
Out of control,
shaky,
twisted
and a little bit beautiful
through things.
You never thought you'd be missing some parts,
or you'd be spacey
or empty
in bad, bad moments like this.
But that's how it is and that's how it was
for my aunt as she tried to formulate her thoughts
into something she was dying and dying to tell me.
I didn't know what she wanted or how to
fix
all the things I didn't quite understand were happening.
All I know is that she
is a child
and children need attention, to be played with, and to be loved.
So I picked up a crayon and starting coloring
around the edges she had missed
trying to fill her in.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
I was in a real bad place this time last year.
I felt *****
all the time.
And all I wanted was to be with someone
who could make me feel even worse.
So I threw myself over people that could make me
feel a little right and hell of a lot wrong.
I poisoned the revival that was my passioned split,
and I kept binding myself to nights that had
no definite ending and put me in spacey places,
tripped me back to the things I wanted to forget,
always winding up in a grass bed with a body
that wouldn't recognize me in the sunlight but felt good.
Good in the way that made me feel wrecked,
empty, wretched, and sterilized
like a bad blood wound.
I was in a real bad place and I want you to know you put me there.
Not because I want you to feel guilty, not because its my own
sick revenge on the things you tore within me.
But I want you to know because I'm trying to explain to you,
why it is I did those things and I why it is I couldn't talk to you
when you begged me for answers, or for reasons, or if I was okay.
I want you to know I wasn't okay.
Not because I want you to apologize or tell me it wasn't my fault.
But I want you to know because I'm trying to explain to you,
how I could feel so terribly and how that could feel so good.
The pain was better, yes better, because it was easier.
I clothed myself in darkness, painted my world without the color
I always believed you gave me.
I was in a real bad place and I want you to know I might still be there.
Because you're holding me now and it would be unfair if I didn't let you in
on the secrets I kept about how I dealt with the pieces after you.
Not because I expect us to be together, not because I want
everything to go back to the way it was before you left.
But I want you to know because I'm trying to explain to you,
that I don't ever want us to feel this way again.
I don't ever want to see you mask your happiness
or think you don't deserve more safety than you have,
more love than your given
more laughs than you create.
I might still be there, but you don't have to be.
You don't have to comfort me,
for the wrong or even the right reasons.
You don't have to tell me that I'm alright or that I'm beautiful.
I feel ugly all the time and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be,
and I want you to know
you don't have to stick around for me.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 12:46 PM UTC
... Give me one reason to stay here,
& I’ll turn right back around,
said I don’t want to leave you lonely,
you’ve got to make me change my mind now,
give me one reason to stay here, & I’ll turn right back around,
& no money won’t help not at all not in any amount,
I’m past possessions & almost past The Point of No Return,
so at this point I see no point in turning back now,
like Tracy Chapman, Bruce Wayne Batman, or Tracy Morgan, like the Joker, Heath Ledger, Edgar Poe, or Captain Morgan,
or a Spacey Captain,
or a **** Batman ready for action,
just not actually Kevin Spacey,
we all know what happened,
we can imagine, so there’s no need for a reenactment,
I know I’m handsome,
thanks for the compliment, I’m flattered,
but not interested, ‘cause I just don’t find guys that attractive,
so quit the harassment & passive aggressive temper tantrums,
& quit asking for a dance,
you already have your answer,
I only give straight facts fam,
don’t know those fake strangers,
don’t need the gold you try to coax me with, soul’s platinum,
not a flash in the pan scam, I scan more than you can imagine,
hindsight 20/20 vision, I read the whole thing backwards,
from the final ending, to lights camera action,
gone till November,
leaving on a jet plane to Denver,
more Tracy Chapman than Tracy Morgan,
more Jon Wayne than Jon Denver,
more Honcho than Jon Doe, more Pronto than Macho,
more Brando than Tonto, full throttle no turning back now,
won’t back down,
feel most alive in times when I almost die,
the real thing, we vroom vroom we do don’t try try,
no need to try to live this life when you really live that life,
why sail the high seas when you can reach Heaven & fly?
Living The Life of Lives, living The Dream of Dreams,
one dream at a time, lucidly asking, “What do you mean?”,
I mean, for real, for really real, how do you really feel? ...
continued in poem #74 in
THHT3: The Hollywood Hills Trilogy 3 available here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07XJRBSKD
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 12:57 PM UTC
The hardest part of you being gone
Is the fear that I'm
Never going to find love again
Because all the interest
In the world can't keep me
Captivated like you did.
They aren't unpredictable
And **** and spacey
And mature
Or anything like you.
They bore me.
They make me sleep
And all that sleep brings me
Is dreams of you.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 4:24 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Long flowing hair full of deep memories , remedies and ferral galleries,
She has beautiful pictures,
Black and purple hair,
Black lipstick,
Black skirt and collared shirt,
Describing an emotional human being is not easy,
An "emo" as they might say,
Darker than the light in hades eyes ,
The stars just don't seem align for me,
Crying in the bathroom just to let your conscience free,
Freedom wasn't in the question,
Neither was her therapy sessions,
And guidance counselors attention,
No I ain't your blessin',
But,
What do you feel when no ones around,
Who in your life has been lecturing and putting you down,
She Wouldn't Tell Me,
To much sorrow brings death,
Let's just hope your not too crazy,
People find you interesting like Kevin Spacey,
The devils taunting with you,
Telling you , "face me",
Vampire skin,
Very cold and pastey,
I just wish you could trust me enough to tell me.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 1:34 AM UTC
Let my peace, mine, mine, mine, my peace;
let
my
peace, eh, flow into this vessel
or this space?
Peace past understanding,
what's that cost?
if it's free,
what's it worth,
I got some saved up in de-ift metaphors,
containers of general whatifery,
like what if, I'll let all-if-ity
loose
right now, my peace
see
can you feel me now? Even
If you knew the taste of spoken love,
it would seem odd, if
wordless, mmm, so.
weyekin say hmm.
Feel a peace, say
selah, let go
could you feel love from this far?
Have you ever felt the connection
since the repair? The reconciling?
Whenever began
a while ago,
you should feel alive, if you notice.
Speed of thought (not speedothought, shame)
trick,
kidding eh
this is serious, peace is in the balance
war is threatening,
rumoring
life is about to be taken from me.
Really?
No?
Life is being taken from earth itself?
Really?
How is that possible,
Is there a flaw in the recycling schema?
or is there a missing comma somewhere?
Are we cancer and ambiguous?
I think,
if earth hears,
earth is alive, Gaia speaks and breathes or
god,
is it the universe
who speaks and breathes?
Yahweh, as a being I envision invisible as light,
in whom
I live
and breathe and have my being,
speaks, saying
Fret not. Nada mas.
Word o' god.
Then my dogma goes pretty
spacey,
- I begin to see messages massaging
- unction to function, under my skin…
so true,
if what I done, did you good,
but you never knew I was,
should I care?
This peace here, past understanding, you
can call it yours and call it soul,
keep it in your patience
with some practice,
you may learn to
let it go.
Jan 22, 2022
Jan 22, 2022 at 5:18 PM UTC