"sparky" poems
And after that I am still a hollow where the
fairies hide from darkness and poisons. I
am still growing flowers out of my womb
and that is why they stink like ************
And after that your disbelief kills all my
sparky pixies and after that I cannot be
anything more than a hollow hollow. But
yeah I am still growing flowers out of my
wound and that is why I scream and cry
when you touch them.
And after that the stillness of the air inside
me and the remnant echo of morning songs
attract the darkness to come. And after that
I think she may feel lonely so I invite
poisons to also come along.
And after that I am still growing flowers
out of the wound on my womb. They still
stink like ************ and after that
vomitting feels like womanhood thing. And
after that my flowers are still immortal and
that is why sometimes you see blood clot
floating around the moon.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
Her eyes radiant and sensous,
she proudly wore them.
Her eyes allured praises,
and conquered the art of flirting.
She looked at him to flaunt her eyes.
Which, she knew will tantalize him.
She wanted to arouse his highs,
and have him fantasize about her.
She looked at his eyes,
assuming it's just another fling.
Powerful and authentic were his eyes,
but also strangely familiar and gently captivating.
Her eyes met his eyes.
For the first time,
her impish and sparky spirit
felt something alien.
His eyes were all that were focussed
for, the rest of the surrounding faded.
She didn't feel the air.
She didn't feel the ground.
She only felt the gaze.
Her always rambling mind
went thoughtless now.
Her burning desire to keep doing more
was suddenly extinguished.
She went quiet.
Neither into an uncomfortable silence,
nor a painful silence.
But a peaceful silence.
A satiated silence.
The haunting memories from the past,
the gripping fear of the future,
all dissolved and energised the ecstatic present.
She no longer wanted this to be a fling
for, she knew she was captivated.
This was the first her flirting failed.
And she knew she couldn't be bailed out
from what's to come.
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 1:18 AM UTC
All summer we moved in a villa brimful of echos,
Cool as the pearled interior of a conch.
Bells, hooves, of the high-stipping black goats woke us.
Around our bed the baronial furniture
Foundered through levels of light seagreen and strange.
Not one leaf wrinkled in the clearing air.
We dreamed how we were perfect, and we were.
Against bare, whitewashed walls, the furniture
Anchored itself, griffin-legged and darkly grained.
Two of us in a place meant for ten more-
Our footsteps multiplied in the shadowy chambers,
Our voices fathomed a profounder sound:
The walnut banquet table, the twelve chairs
Mirrored the intricate gestures of two others.
Heavy as a statuary, shapes not ours
Performed a dumbshow in the polished wood,
That cabinet without windows or doors:
He lifts an arm to bring her close, but she
Shies from his touch: his is an iron mood.
Seeing her freeze, he turns his face away.
They poise and grieve as in some old tragedy.
Moon-blanched and implacable, he and she
Would not be eased, released. Our each example
Of temderness dove through their purgatory
Like a planet, a stone, swallowed in a great darkness,
Leaving no sparky track, setting up no ripple.
Nightly we left them in their desert place.
Lights out, they dogged us, sleepless and envious:
We dreamed their arguments, their stricken voices.
We might embrace, but those two never did,
Come, so unlike us, to a stiff impasse,
Burdened in such a way we seemed the lighter-
Ourselves the haunters, and they, flesh and blood;
As if, above love's ruinage, we were
The heaven those two dreamed of, in despair.
3.2k
Ozzie Smith, Yazstremski,
Dave Stieb and Robin Yount
these men were of a special group
It's one I'm proud to count
There's players who achieve a goal
While others just achieve
They set a standard for the rest
In their heart they just believe
The game is full of heroes
Men depended on each game
They all have certain attributes
And we all know them by name
Kaline, Ripken, and Wade Boggs
The Carters, Joe and Gary
They're men who inspire us
They have a reputation tough to carry
To be a man of character
You must be better than the rest
You have to be a leader
If you ***** up, you must confess
Baseball doesn't make you one
For character's within
You just learn how to channel it
Bring it out from where it's been
Now, Cobb, Ruth and McLain
Were characters as well
But, not the kind of characters
That we are here to tell
They had a reputation
One that is not lost upon the game
But, to say that they had character
Then you would not speak their names
Tom Seaver and Clemente
Thurmon Munson, Sparky too
Were men who set examples
Of exactly what to do
To build a reputation
One that shows character and heart
Is something time consuming
It's built of many parts
To do the right thing once
Is not the thing I want to see
But to do it right consistently
That defines character to me
There are so many examples
Of players in this group
But there are ten times as many
Who miss the homer with a bloop
Baseball brings it out in you
It doesn't put it there
You show what you are made of
By definition....to be fair
Williams, Maris, Dimaggio
Robinsons, Jackie and Frank
They played with an integrity
You could take it to the bank
If you want to be a winner
Please do this if you can
Be a man of character
Not a character of a man.
..
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC
A long time ago
Unicorns roamed the earth
They were ugly
And dumb
And did not know fear
Did not feel the need to use their horns for anything
They were fat
They smelled bad
Like an open wounded staph infection
They did not even taste good
To other animals or humans
But there was this boy who loved to watch them graze with his pet turtle Rusty
He watched and listened
The Unicorns did not neigh so much as they screamed high pitch and breathy
Into each other’s mouths
They made no sense
It was beautiful to him that things that made no sense
Could exist without reason
And there be nothing wrong with that
Rusty would walk around them
A turtle’s pace
And graze
Occasionally bite at an ankle
It made him feel strong
To cause such a big animal pain
And slink away unscathed
No one will ever see the way such a proud turtle walks
As the way Sparky did
Head so high
His neck did not look like ******** skin
The boy also watched them die
Watched as the men in his tribe led them to a nearby valley
Where they would smash the unicorn’s head in with rocks
The animals just stood there
Not understanding what was being done to them
The boy felt like a unicorn then
When his father hit him
He felt dumb
Dumb in the heart
Dumb in the brain
Dumb in the body
For continuing to stay
The boy cried as the last unicorn died
His father said that soon everyone would forget that something so ugly lived
The boy understood
So he went to nearby caves
Where all the gay tribe boys go
Because in hunter gatherer societies
Boys who did not work were gay
They did what makes them happy
That is why it is called gay
In the caves he would draw the unicorns
He made them beautiful
And intelligent
With blood that healed wounds
And horns that if stabbed you
Would cause the most beautiful death
When all this ugly is gone
People will tell stories about us
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
New birthdays new babi es
Marriages are graduations:
Promotions for bachelors & bacheloerettes
A new morning gone
I'm moving on, I'm moving on
A death, a crash, a disease
Goodbye Sparky, goodbye
Births followed by deaths followed by
Commercial breaks, cups of coffee and
back to more happy, happy
birthdays.
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 8:15 PM UTC
It aint just the blue collar or the hands in the dirt
or the coal on the belt line or the paint on the shirt
or the dust from the cowboy and the cattle he's drivin'
or the eighteen wheels rollin and the gravel thats flyin'
my best friends named Sparky, he works in the mine
six miles deep, come rain or come shine
dont take lip from no one, ive seen him move fast
give him some **** and he'll hand you your ***
I got a buddy called Outlaw, he rolls eighteen wheels
sometimes nine in a corner with the logs on his heels
he aint scared of nothin, says he dont like to fight
says hes just exercisin' for the long haul tonight
my ol man swung a hammer for most of his life
he earned blood sweat and tears
but he came out alright
might be a church in the city or a cabin far from town
but he''ll die in his tool belts before he'll die sittin down.
it aint just the blue collar or the blood in the dirt,
or the coal beneath your skin or the scars from the work,
or the rope burns on your hands and yet you keep ridin
its just the breath thats the difference between livin and dyin.
(c) 2013 CJM
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC
" Who is in there? ! Answer eh! "
The shadow trembled . " Are you black or white?!"
" I am hungry, sir. '' The voice replied.
Why is it that souls are judged on the basis of their colour? This disgraceful conjecture which has been dejecting people for centuries, seems on an external tenure. When will it bear a full stop? Be it the western nations, where it determines a person's status or the southern, where it decides a person's magnitude of beauty. Although, this mind set is hobbling downwards, yet some vestiges are still sparky, which are needed to be hushed off.
A.S.
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 1:02 PM UTC
She's a spitfire. A kinda girl that makes you want her no matter how poisonous she can be. With an infectious smile, and a swing with those wide hips, she make your mind melt. Like a shaken glass bottle of coke, she was bubbles of carbonated water mixed with sugar and unknown chemicals that make your taste buds sizzle. But she explode on you if you weren't careful. She wasn't afraid to say, "I hate you". She often said it quite often, especially to boys who tried too hard, or not at all. She was a wild thing and liked fire even if she got burned. And she wasn't afraid to hurt you. And if you hurt her, watch it. If you hurt someone she loved, then you better run. But a ****** she was, and sparky, sorta spinster sort of attitude she had towards love. She didn't want it. She needed it not in her mind. But alas at night she be alone and cold, wanted some arms to have to hold her. And her cold hard eyes defied their love. She was crude and not careful, and said words that make those boys want her more then they should. She teased and taunted and played with em all. Wanting nothing to do with them and their easy hearts. She wanted someone who was strong. Someone who wasn't so easy to or so nice. She didn't like nice, because as hard as she tried she couldn't be nice. She wasn't nice or selfless or loving. She was war, and strife, and like to make other people mad. She say stuff she didn't mean, and make sure people knew what she thought, even if it didn't matter. She wanted a guy who could manage it. Who could settle her down and be ok ruffling her feathers and calling her names. She wanted him keeping it interesting, unlike the others who bored her to tears. Yeah, she was the one that I didn't want to tame but loved so much anyways.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 5:29 PM UTC
******
I can't get this together.
Everything is falling apart.
Life is losing its meaning and I can't fix it.
******
Time is truly against me and I can't change it.
I'm losing it. I'm losing it.
........ I can't get it.
I lost. I'm utterly defeated.
I'm done. I'm through. This world is just going to spit me up.
I already know it.
I'm alone on this.
I might as well leave everyone.
Whoa there sparky.
Time to calm yourself.
Firstly, breathe.
You can do this.
You have everything and I mean EVERYTHING you need.
All the resources and equipment are sitting in front of you.
Your life, is just at a fork in the road.
Like Robert Frost, "Take the road less traveled by. It'll make all the difference."
Secondly, grab a Coke from the fridge, eat an apple, watch a movie.
You've been through worse remember?
The world is trying to break you.
It's done it before, but never again.
You made a promise to yourself remember?
You were going to seize all opportunities and stop half-assing everything.
THIS IS ONE OF THOSE OPPORTUNITIES!
Do not back down! Not on this.
Grab the world by its ear and yank until it submits.
You! Got! This!
Thirdly and most importantly,
Be patient.
All of these things that you do have a way of working out.
You've noticed it. I know you have.
Be patient with yourself.
You are your own worst enemy.
And you know who's stronger.
It's time to do this.
Get up, breathe, get creative.
Time is nothing now.
It will come to your side when you're winning.
Hey bro........ it's time.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
Don't let her big blue sparky eyes and big fat smile fool you
it's a facade
and she's so **** good to hide what's really going on inside
it's a facade
don't trust her
(s.m)
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC
Evelina’s fence of lichened cedar
slouches at the wetland border
her willows wildly weep
on silken cattail shoulders
the neighbors say she’s crazy
snidely call her Javelina
she's sane as any one of them
this brilliant winter morning
Evelina speaks of weather and dogs
hers, a Chihuahua named Fawn
mine, a Frenchie named Sparky
the weather, typically Northwest
in parting, sculpted driftwood
spiraling tornadic rings gifted
between palms roughly
worn by time and sea
Evelina’s yard is thick with trees
the neighbors want cut down
for now, she’s doing all she can
just holding swampy ground
each morning wakes triumphant
to beachcomb on the shore
pockets weighed with treasure
this moment, nothing more
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 9:58 AM UTC
You’re sparky and spiky but timid.
You’re reddish and brown but not black.
I should have read more stuff about it -
The chances are: I’m not coming back.
Well, both of us are a bit scared.
I promise: I’m not here to hurt you,
Quite stupid to get one’s feet bare
But you must behave, brother urchin!
We all want to dive into silence,
While also enjoying the sun.
But if you go on like this - nuisance,
I’m bringing along my gun.
3.6.2012
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 11:06 AM UTC
I sit and stink,
After cups of tea, conversations and melancholy
The sweat is salty, an armpit attached to sentences-
Ondaatje and the cat, Abramovic and tears,
The hollow room and my single window that ached
The smell and the grey torn shirt never got *****
I sit and stink,
Desperate to walk, talk and get out of newspapers
Scratch rich names out of the walls and retreat
To untie the curly locks and let them breathe.
A phone thrown at one corner and emails unread
The world- a closed book with no pages.
I sit and stink,
Jeans pulled down to a wet floor
European closet and the yellow sparky lights,
Imagination erupted, there was no room to escape.
I pencilled graphs, penned letters and painted snakes
Self-portrait, Van gogh and a black and white me.
I sit and stink,
A friend, the jack and the brick house
Dosa with ghee served for the jarred tilapias,
They are all memories. Unremembered-
Like running races and the temple music system.
I wrote them down neatly, in a rectangle, they leaked.
I sit and stink,
An unfamiliar face in a place with no power
Glenfarclas, smoke and Ra Ra Rasputin
She danced. He watched. Her collarbones broke.
He dug his nail, dirt at its corner, an unshaven facade
It was grave, full of pain, his face and his eyes.
I sit and stink,
A ****** body inside the same grey shirt
Scratching names next to the European closet
With the old song from the temple music system.
The unfamiliar face evoked all human senses
The body is yet to take a wash.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 11:01 AM UTC
Colonel Hathi with a hurl
that weighs in his illicit hands
like an AR18 play-park swing
and all at his command
are concrete soldiers he had left
to test the new recruits
with netted helmets drilled
into Private Sparky’s boots.
To detrimble and exhume
the cairns from the pyres
a jaded island from respite
and scripture from the flyers
but as he jumps the trenches
of his own conceited fame
he’ll turn a sharp three-sixty
and face the wall again.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
the moonlight is caught
on the iced-over snow, on the satellites
and metallic edges of the roof.
i shiver and
smoke my last cigarette of the night
it tastes very good breathing in the frigid air
better compared to those words i was forced to inhale downstairs.
screaming sounds, the two of us in an awful row.
but on the roof, in the cold,
with the fresh textured wind,
i could think straight.
i knew it was better to have you like this
than not at all.
we are two things boiled in love and
tempered.
yours, sparky and quick
mine, swollen and infected
but i let mine and myself deflate because tomorrow is new
and i will probably
jump into your arms
as i did yesterday and the day before
i spend
another moment here
calm and alright
the smoothness of the satin night
slipping through
me
sweeping the mess out of sight
with its beauty,
its forgiving might.
and i know, even in this now,
you and i
we are greater than tonight.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
Remember...
When comic books were the real big thing
and kids everywhere waited eagerly
every week excited to start reading
the latest Beano or Dandy
Remember…
Enjoying Dennis the Menace and Gnasher,
Minnie the Minx and the Bash Street Kids,
Roger the Dodger, Scrapper and Basher,
Beryl the Peril and Billy Whizz.
Remember…
Thinking Bully Beef and Chips were so great;
the awful things that Bully would do!
Not forgetting Desperate Dan and Keyhole Kate
who were always fantastic too.
Remember…
When we used to read the Sparky or the Topper
or the Buster or even the Beezer
without of course forgetting the Victor
or Roy of the Rovers either.
Remember…
When they had the Bunty for girls too,
the Mandy and Judy as well,
which many boys would read it is true;
though all promised never to tell!
Remember…
Waiting patiently each year for Santa to bring
the Annual edition of your favourite one,
spending hours on Christmas Day just reading;
and reading was the best thing under the sun!
Remember…
When everyone joined their local libraries
soon after schooldays had begun
When you were sure to find a book to please
and reading was so much fun.
Remember…
When books transported us to another world,
each new book a revelation,
instilling in us a love of the written word;
really fuelling our imagination!
Remember…
How much enjoyment you got from reading
and what little effort it really took,
how the pressures of life soon began receding
when you immersed yourself in a book.
Remember…
To try and make time to read a good book,
to take time out every now and then,
and you never know, with a bit of luck;
You might fall in love with reading again.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:56 AM UTC
Rugg ruff grooowwwl
Sounds like Sparky's pretty angry right now.
I think he just is playing tug of war.
And he's making that noise
trying to get it first.
So Sparky
ruuuggg rufffff grrrrrooooww
It looked like he was actually playing tug of war
that was a great thing
he was playing tug of war.
ruuuggg rufffff grrrrrooooww
I guess he won the game of tug of war.
Well it's time to say "the end"
and goodbye.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 10:48 PM UTC
Light Shows
Wafting up this hill
From the town below
The fetid air this morning,
Whispers sleepily.
We sat here with a crowd
Last night, anticipating
The finale of the Fourth of July,
Expecting colored fire
And fierceness in the sky
To erupt above the lake
As a flotilla of boats,
White and green and red markers glowing
Took their bobbing places
Too far from us to see expectant faces.
The morning grass lies matted,
Littered with bits of celebration:
Candy wrappers,
Bottle caps,
Crushed cans...
Only the motorcycle and I
Overlook the restless trees and water
Uncertain in the morning breeze below....
The fireworks this year amazed us all,
Arcs and constellations
Shattering the air
Drifting off to die in smoking trails,
Whistling curlicues,
Weeping-willow shreds of gold,
Strings of blue and white and red,
Cacophonies of power,
Echoing and echoing again.
And yet, again,
God won the show...
Sent a humble lightning bug
To fly across my grandson's path
And captured, captivated his attention.
While thundering explosions pinwheeled overhead,
An insect blinked his tail,
Walked up young Parker's arm,
Disarmed the bombing of the sky,
Attached a young boy's quick affection,
Earned the title, "Sparky,"
And hitchhiked home
To be released alive and well
On my front lawn.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
I stood so firm giving out my speech to people who really inspire to me people who care I felt like I was rare up on the stage and giving condolences to all my fans nice life but would clash wood smooth wooden chair but thoughs going wild on the air drank champagne looking at a crowed all there to celebrate me I new this was the start of something, something very sparky iv never felt so alive it was about time I waked up and shine but would clash wood wearing my Italian suit looking like the person on my mirror wooden door I was trying to open but thoughts all over thr door would this happen...??? Kept asking me questions but I found the answeres while I was celebrating ..
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 12:13 AM UTC
three
i admire daddy for shooting a big buck. i name the deer "sparky."
four
my favorite part about school is learning to read books all by myself.
six
i don't let mama pick out my clothes anymore. my favorite outfit is purple sweatpants with a red sweater.
seven
i got detention for spitting on a boy. i cried for weeks.
ten
my best friend in the world moved an hour away. at least i still have harry potter and despereaux to keep me company.
eleven
the boy who plays the lead in the musical is the cutest boy i've ever seen.
twelve
the boy who played the lead in the musical likes me back.
thirteen
i catch myself staring absently at walls often. i'm disgusted with my body. i haven't eaten in days. my chest always aches. i've lost most of my friends because they've grown annoyed with how much time i spend with a boy. i'm never happy unless i'm with him. he's my whole world.
fourteen
the boy who played the lead in the musical shattered me. i don't want to be alive. i keep leaning over the toilet trying to get rid of what's eating me from the inside out, but nothing ever comes up. he promises we will always be friends. i stay up late screaming every night.
fifteen
a boy pushed me up against the wall and kissed me. he's dated tons of girls, but he thinks i'm different. he likes to read and listen to music. he says i'm the best kisser. he distracts me from the pain, and i'm constantly afraid he's going to leave me without ever speaking a word to me again. i'm so afraid, i stop focusing in class. the boy who played the lead in the musical hasn't talked to me since he walked me to the school counselor a year ago.
sixteen
my big group of friends and i go to dinner at applebee's. i just got my driver's license and a black 1999 oldsmobile alero. i have a few people i can go to if i can't do it alone. i can pull myself back after a relapse. i don't depend my life on anyone but myself. i might just be a bit numb, but things haven't been this great in a long time.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
*Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
I swear to god there's no other way to say*
***I ******* love you***
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
Past day’s slog for the bread
From the sky above the deserted street
I beg a poem in my head.
A sparky thought from congealed weariness
Then rises from the pave
And in starlight as I follow its trace
A night warrior is reborn from day’s slave!
Its grace saves the mind chiseled arts
Rejuvenates the dreamer for another day
Forgotten is all the pain all that hurts
From breaking point life comes back to stay!
From the hungry eyes’ glow down below
From the heavens above me spread
From the unseen nocturnes of tomorrow
I beg a poem in my head.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 3:46 AM UTC
I've been awake for awhile,
pushing forward this idea in my head
like a surgeon guiding his patient to the knife.
It's at the front of my head,
ready to shatter the glass of my forehead.
Or, better yet, gently move down,
and slide between my teeth
like my chilly breath on this cold day.
There is always time to take into account.
It's needy and it's hungry for wasted minutes.
It claws at the door until I turn the ****
and, like a wave, collapses me.
And this idea, so overwhelming and heavy,
will tell me to stay on the ground,
let more time past by,
and soon I will fall asleep on this cold day.
This idea isn't a fair gambler.
There's no areas shaded gray,
trust me. I tried to find them.
Once you're in, you ain't goin' back,
like a criminal taking his steps toward Old Sparky.
This idea might render me like that criminal, actually,
and maybe you'll realize how this will haunt you.
Write your requiem on this cold day.
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 10:26 AM UTC