"springer" poems
This is the Last Straw –
and Something About Sacred Buckets of Holistic Ice Water
****** predators, human smugglers
Starvation in the Sudan, civil war
in Syria, mass executions in China
Journalists murdered almost everywhere
Fashionable infanticide, homelessness
Unemployment, urban terrorism
Mass ****** school shootings, wildfires, racism
An unstable national government
Anti-Semitism, border desperation
Riots, arson, ecclesiastical corruption
**** alcoholism, historical cleansing
Skinheads, abuse, Khardassianistas
Volcanos, the death penalty, free verse
Affluenza, Jerry Springer, The View
Herbal tea, antifa, anti-antifa
And the soul-sucking existential despair
Of inspirational singer-songwriters:
Nah, not a bit worried about plastic straws
But I must go now; The Voices are telling me
To pour a bucket of ice water over my head
(As long as it’s not a plastic bucket)
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
*The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will be live-*
The revelation will be streaming through your Windows
laptops and smartphones.
The revolution will be blogged
Tweeted, liked, shared, RE-blogged RE-tweeted
and Stumbled Upon in between
midnight ************ sessions
sandwiched between funny cat memes.
The resolution will be HD.
It's evolution will be high speed.
The whistles will be blown at with frequency.
The revolution will be commented on;
Scrutinized.
Vandalized.
Scandalized.
Stylized and advertized.
People will pay attention -
People will forget to mention
that some stand up, occupy, riot
and die.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution be streaming live
through the filter of your choice.
The facts will be democratized.
The democracy will be corporatized.
The corporations will personified.
People, objectified -
Spied on and villainized
The powers that be will will lie, deny, and try to justify.
The people will be disenfranchised.
Prisons will be privatized.
Death drones will be utilized.
No one will bat an eye.
Because revolution will be multiplied, over-simplified,
The violence, normalized.
Lives, sacrificed
to satiate the Golden Calf's appetite.
The revolution will not be televised
but Jerry Springer will...
Go figure.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
*sunset, sunrise hikes ~
Trillium on Blood mountain ~
true love song blooms
yogasutra song
hiking appalachee trails
with two i love
Rhodedendrons clap,
lush applause to Springer's call--
water in the sky
a tuskless walrus
chases me up the ladder--
crowds smile through glass*
.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
Thirty six years after they last were held in pre-war Berlin
The games of the Olympiad were all set to begin
This time though, in Munich, set to host the sports worlds greatest show
It was the night before the opening, and all were set to go
August 26th, the games did start and all was going well
But ten days in, the world was shook, and Munich was now a hell
Where terrorists changed how the world would see these famous games
From that date on, The Olympic world, would never be the same
Mark Spitz, that year, set records as he won seven swimming golds
Olga Korbut, elfin princess, stole our hearts with moves so bold
Frank Shorter won the marathon for America, and he was German born
But, Munich's games are famous for the actions, that September morn
Close your eyes, remember back, if you are of the age
Remember those victorious, who were outstanding on that stage
Steve Prefontaine, he came up short, Lasse Viren, he did what he set to do
Think back now to that late summer day in nineteen seventy two
Eyes closed, still remember....David Berger, Mark Slavin and Kehatt Shorr
Seew Friedman, Josef Gutfreund,Elieser Halfin, and you know there is five more
Josef Romano, Amizur Shapira, not tweaking any pictures in your mind,
Andre Spitzer, Jaakow Springer, Mosche Weinberger...any memories do you find?
These men all were Olympians, judges, coaches, athletes, refs
September 5th is now famous, it's remembered for their deaths
They all should be remembered, for their lives, for why they came
They all reached the highest level, they had made it to The Games
Did they ever win a medal ? Would they ever get their glory?
They're remembered as a victim, unfortunately that's their story
It's 40 years on, London hosts, The IOC does not
Take a single minute, give these Olympians a thought
Now close your eyes again and think, could that happen once again
Could terrorists take Olympic lives, could they come and **** like then
Now if I repeat all the names I mentioned, you may not see their face
But, for one short shining moment, please put them in their earned space
Eyes closed, still remember....David Berger, Mark Slavin and Kehatt Shorr
Seew Friedman, Josef Gutfreund,Elieser Halfin, and you know there is five more
Josef Romano, Amizur Shapira, not tweaking any pictures in your mind,
Andre Spitzer, Jaakow Springer, Mosche Weinberger...any memories do you find?
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 4:43 PM UTC
"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
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
Sing me songs
about Nascar Nation
I don't care about
your beach vacation
I want to hear
about trucks and whisky
Not when Taylor
Swift got frisky
Give me songs
that make me cry
not songs about
a cheating guy
Let me hear
about girls and guns
about going fishing
about having fun
sing me songs of old...
sing me solid gold
songs where tales were told
just sing me songs...my heart can hold.....
Give me songs
about redneck weddings
about lonely highways
and where I'm heading
I don't care
about sand and sunshine
I just need to hear
'bout the life that is mine
Sing me songs about
Trucks and racing
I don't care about
who's book facing
Let me hear
some Charlie Daniels
going hunting
with Springer spaniels
Sing me songs
that touch my heart
songs I'll sing
when we're apart
I don't care
about fields of flowers
or about your
secret powers
sing me songs of old...
sing me solid gold
songs where tales were told
just sing me songs...my heart can hold.....
Sing me songs
like those long ago
about broken hearts
and tales of woe
Sing me songs
that i'll remember
way past december
sing me songs of old...
sing me solid gold
songs where tales were told
just sing me songs...my heart can hold.....
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC
Syrenernes store buketter af sprøde blomster springer ud og spreder en duft af sitrende lykke som jeg tager del af, når jeg kan overskue at smile og være mig selv.
Jeg sidder under det.
Og jeg ejer al den stilhed jeg gemmer på, som jeg kun tager med mig når jeg er alene i natten, på mine lange vandringsrejser i mine udtrådte gummisko, som minder mig om dig.
Når jeg fortæller mig selv at jeg tager mine tanker i at gå på afveje og drømme om den magt vi kan få af hele verden på markerne med de grønne stængler. Og at hvis man skruer tiden tilbage, så kan man lære at leve livet rigtigt. Hvis jeg nu havde givet mig selv lov, og havde sluppet mig selv fri.
Så kommer der blade på syrenernes grene, for jeg har siddet der i flere timer end jeg kan tælle på hænderne.
Og mærket mine følelser, selvom der er tusindvis og på trods af at de i hober går i krig mod hinanden, for at fortælle mig modsatte ting og at livet går videre.
Så jeg rejser mig op, og går videre mod nye velduftende blomster i et forsøg på at lære af min erindringer.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 5:26 AM UTC
its not like i traded up
or for that matter down
every cog still turned to the left
each lever, still up and down
it started like an episode
of ricky lake
and ended abruptly
on springer
im in the sound proof booth
judging those who stand encased
aside me
i should leave before this gets ugly
indiscretion led me here
fortitude kept me
embarrassment fed me words
and loss encapsulates all
every stitch
the joy and glee
lost to ants in a wildflower patch
it stings now
verbosity rivaled only by impetus
but quickness
if only counted in months
falls short with words
im sure there's a happy ending
a call in the black of midnight
in a letter carefully opened
through a kiss tentatively given
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
From Hatteras south to Ocracoke
The Queen Anne she did soak
A'bar at Springer's Point
Where kin of Teach
Take pride in speech
And with pirate's blood anoint
On down coast by Emerald Isle
Eighteen sailor miles
Till sail through Tops'l Spit
Beneath the waves
Lie many graves
Of fools whose widows knit
r ~ 11Feb14
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
Mine drukne indvolde afskyr deres beholder.
Gennem nervebanen sendes stødende gnister af had.
Hvor vil de overbevise og kalder på den sødmede gift
hvor vil de have dens spreden af koma lignende afkom.
Først ubehagen,
så oppustet smerte der brister som en ballon
og brændsel med selvantændelige kræfter.
Den springer og opkast omsluger horisonten
af mennesker,
klipper,
udviskede farver.
Ujævne striber af rød er udfyldte billeder
der drypper en anelse ro på mine øjne,
det leder
det fører
ind gennem nervebanens flod.
To mørke eller fire
i hvert fald én
gør døsig
gør modig
gør opgivenhed
udholdenhed.
De dage der kommer er vel taget imod
i skrigen og styrke og tomhedens sod.
Selskrevne ord fordamper salt.
Efterladt,
afsluttet,
genfortalt
i latterlige evig kedsomhed
der udfylder fyldte *** af bevidsthed
hvor pladsmanglens rod eliminerer sig selv.
Usammenhængende lort skaber lyrik
gør intet som helst
og findes for ingenting.
Jeg læner tilbage og betragter et snitteværk
en udhugget skulptur.
Stærke farver vender tilbage i kindrødt
gennem abstrakt maleri
og så rammer svien af blomster og fryd
på eksperimenter af målrettet kunst.
Skammende lys i hvid og i sort.
Nøgterne syner synes skarpe for blikket
og lukker en port.
Brosten for brosten lægges på ny
og en fejl af en vej af smil og meditativ.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
I got hummus and pretzels,
but I wanted a bag of chips.
I got creamer and cheesecake,
but ate corned beef hash with a pepsi.
I don't quite think I'm lying about
who I am to myself, but
on the other hand I'm feeling
like there's something behind
those curtains. Friends I don't
give a **** about, and an increasing
incentive to just start walking
and never turn around. There's
a diner somewhere out there
with a meat and potatoes dish
just as good as mom's, I bet.
I'd sincerely like to give a ****
Sometimes I wonder if life seems
easier for people who feel gung-ho
about dying in military slavery
and ********** to FOX news.
If you're reading this,
hey, maybe we're not so different;
You play a zealot's game of
love and peace, but pull the trigger
right in their children's faces,
and I tip-toe around people
I couldn't care less about.
We nourish each other in the way
that chairs aid discussion
in an episode of Jerry Springer.
Doesn't have to be comedy,
but I wasn't going to cry about it.
I'd probably just fib and say
everything's aces.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
En Midlertidig Tid har taget Patent på Tiden
Styres af en Relativ Tid som ingen Oprigtigt kender til
Alle i Individuelle Tidszoner
Tilrettelagt efter Samfundets tikkende Lommeur
Min Tid er Uregerlig
Tik Tik Tak
Springer defekt Sekunder over
Tilføjer i Mellemtakterne
Kaninen der Løber opfatter ikke tabet af sin Tid
Den Tid jeg mistede Tilliden til da jeg mistede Min Tid
Nu er jeg efterladt i Mistillid til Midlertid
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Speculations abound, on the news and Internet.
Doomsday prophecies, when the planets alignments set.
But I have my theories, that I will share with you,
might as well accept it, there's nothing you can do.
Twenty-twelve is coming, that is a simple fact.
Just sit back and read along, have yourself a laugh.
I believe on that day:
That the aliens that abducted Elvis,
to be their king, will bring him back to us.
Their ship will land on the White House Lawn,
a whole lotta shakin', will be goin' on.
I believe on that day:
Man will find chocolate is a miracle drug.
They'll melt it down and use it, as synthetic blood.
Saving the lives of thousands of women on the verge.
They will find that *** finally is cured.
I believe on this day:
Jerry Springer will announce his intent,
to run in the next election to be our President.
He has a sure fire way, to end all the wars,
let the leaders fight it out on his shows stage floor.
I believe on that day:
All manner of nonsense will ensue.
I don't think it is a day, that we will come to rue.
Bets in Vegas will still be laid,
our nest payday's we will still want paid.
The Earth will turn upon it's axis,
there will still be, death and taxes.
No. 2012, should not be feared.
But, I have my seat reserved, on the next ship outta here.
Aug 7, 2010
Aug 7, 2010 at 3:31 PM UTC
You'd call me insane
If you saw the ****
That went down in my brain
The powers mine to claim
Ima overdose on some fame
And hit the top with Hussain
Osama Bin Laden type of fame
Look inside this ******* membrane
And see the **** I'm on is midgrade
Dirt cheap Reggie on the end table
Hittin the **** watching cable
Jerry Springer, this ***** tellin a fable
Say that ***** ****** her man in the stables
But it was that **** bending over my table
Made her scream while she grabbed at her ankles
Big black strap on, giving ****
Plot twist like the demons used to be angels
And I'm hittin ten at these angles
My pen makes sense of the tangles
Gave me a funny look so I strangled
Him and his little Angel
I don't care about the babies
I act like an animal with rabies
So when I die I'm going straight to haities
And I don't know what this ***** doin to my head
The room is starting to spin
And I don't know what this ***** doin to my head
But I'm clawing at my skin
And I don't know what this ***** doin to my head
The roof is caving in
And I don't know what this ***** doin to my head
But now I'm feeling the zen
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
Fordi mine arme er grene
svajer jeg i vinden
Når det rusker
ryster jeg
Træ er et smukt materiale
birk er sublimt
Jeg mærker hvordan roden
dræner mit køn for væske
Xylem gør sit job
Giver mig sved på panden
Straks derefter
næsten umærkeligt
springer jeg ud
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 6:22 AM UTC
as i was playing my ***** at a sidewalk cafe
three bums who’d monopolized a table for an hour
exchanged belligerence with a guy boarding a harley
i don’t know how it started
i was busy with my unfinished symphonies
but i felt the violence in the air
"get off the bike," said one of the mooks at the table
the biker jumped out of his seat and took off his helmet
a hollywood handsome moviestar stud
"come over here," said the seated blowhard
"oh, i’d love it if you took a swing at me"
the biker announced to the whole street
staredown; poseoff
the fools at the table didn’t rise
no thanks
the biker was winning just by standing there
bragging about how he’d love a punch in the nose
he didn’t have to approach
only wave his arms in bring-it-on jerry springer motion
then he overplayed
"my lawyer would love it if you hit me"
a roar went up from the table
"the guy rides a harley and when it’s time for a fight
he hides behind his lawyer"
it was a complicated macho standoff
an intricate defensive moment
the bums had backed down
but the biker had blown it
he climbed back on his bike
"yeah you’re real tough guys"
while the table which had stiffened in NO
taunted him with his lawyer
moral:
***** music incites violence
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
Nok forlader jeg min grund, af grunde.
Sad fast i blandt mennesker, 20+, kaffeånde, væk fra alt der idealisere voksenlivet, og det der reflekterede en nærmest nær dødsoplevelse i mine øjne. Sad fast i mellem andres drømme, mixed up med ***** redbull, klistrede skosåler som valser ned i gennem jomfruhinden, for at projektere deres drømme med andres. For at finde ud af at de ikke er kommet videre i deres liv end fra sidste weekend. Nok forlader jeg podier, pedestaler, guld, sølv & bronze-mentaliteten, et ungdomsmararidt der altid ender i ramaskrig, ingen solidaritet for den modsatte. Springer ud fra tippen, af egen næse. nogle burde gøre det samme.
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
While looking at the television newscast.
You realize you're watching the news robots.
Simply because they have no freedom to be free.
They work required restrictions.
They told the way to dress.
The way to act.
And the news they can report under guidelines.
The teleprompters are their best friends.
Especially for those without glasses.
But prefer the contact lens.
Jerry Springer once stated.
The news is about pretty people reporting.
And if you notice his words are true.
If the news robots deny it.
They trying to pull the wool over you.
Ask yourself?
How many ugly folks reports the news.
Many news systems works underhanded.
That's why many has been branded.
Things won't change anytime soon.
But notice the National Enquire's delivering truth too.
But then I could have been talking about the news too.
When it comes to them hardly any.
But with pretty folks -there are plenty.
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 9:46 AM UTC
du umulige kærlighed
snart glemt, men alligevel forevigt gemt
inde i min indre og ydre bevidsthed
du popper oftes op i mine tanker, de gange jeg foruroliget passerer;
destinationer, individer, genstande
dér minder mig om dig
jeg kæmper stadig med afvendelsen af gamle vaner
der gang på gang, har formået at sætte hele mit tankesystem i livlige flammer, som har brændt mig op, indefra og ud
jeg ligger nu alene i græsset
glimtende illusioner springer så fint frem på den mørke nattehimmel
som det sidste jeg ser inden jeg
lukker begge mine øjne i
og møder dig i en af mine mange drømme
åh så naivt
og med forvrængede forhåbninger om
du og jeg
tørrer blidt, med knyttet hånd
en tåre af min venstre kind, mens jeg lader den højre dråbe løbe hele vejen ned til starten af mit kraveben
og dæmpet, fortæller jeg mig selv lavmælt
med en snert af gråd i mit slidte stemmebånd
at dét forvrængede tankesystem her
er bygget på, at jeg så ynkeligt går og venter ivrigt og utålmodigt
på dét
jeg på én og samme tid absolut er bevidst om,
aldrig kommer til at ske
udover i mine drømme
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 6:05 PM UTC
Sitting at home,
I can't write.
The TV is too loud,
and Jerry Springer's not my thing.
I try to think, what exactly is my purpose,
but I always draw a blank.
Maybe I'm here to run a circus,
I only said that because it rhymes.
I just can't see life,
in my old brown eyes.
I can't seem to fight,
these feelings inside.
I go bowling on Tuesdays.
I stand there in silence,
take my turn when it comes.
I look around but no one understands me,
they just know me as Barry.
I wonder if they even care for me,
or if I'm just some lonely fool.
I just can't see life,
in my old brown eyes.
I can't seem to fight,
these feelings inside.
Dropped out of school and lost my mind.
My teacher said I'm lazy,
or maybe I just don't like school.
The thought of growing older bothers me,
it makes me uneasy.
I really don't mind getting grey hairs,
I just don't like dying.
I'm a nothing,
a no one,
a loser,
a fool.
I sit silent,
I lose myself,
I am a fool.
And I just can't see life,
in my old brown eyes.
I can't seem to fight,
these feelings inside.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 1:43 PM UTC
It's eight o'clock in the morning and I'm running down stairs.
I'm about to tell you it's my sixth birthday.
I'm so excited and I jump on your stomach and tug lightly at your eyelids.
Then next thing you know I'm thirteen and I'm in this whole edgy thing you don't understand. But you still buy me goofy studded belts and depressing romance novels. We still sit in the living room every Sunday. Eating scrapple and watching Jerry Springer.
Then I'm fourteen.
You are getting sicker but I try to just ignore it.
I start to cut myself because I don't know what else to do. Built up guilt I guess because now I can't even be around you. I don't want you to see me so sad
Do you remember when I was little.
We played candy land and you bought me chocolate and marshmallows.
Mom mom was ****** because she didn't want me riled up but you didn't care as long as I was smiling.
Months go by and you get worse.
You got put in the hospital.
The cancer is killing me in the heart as much as it's killing you in the liver.
A few weeks then my mother tells me I have to say goodbye. I don't want to say goodbye to you. You were the best Pop pop anyone could ask for. I didn't say goodbye. Instead I told you I loved you so much. And I always will. And within hours. You were gone. I started smoking. I didn't want to feel like giant gaping hole you left behind.
And it's still there.
Four year later.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
My Conscience takes all my mistakes
And hurls them in my face
So I relive each negative
And demeaning disgrace
With clarity, severity,
And overwhelming shame.
Day after day It does convey
Just who I have to blame.
I find no peace, my mind wont cease,
I’m constantly harassed;
My mind wallows within the throes
Of dredging up my past
So for support I find comfort
In Spirits so divine
And I believe in Their reprieve-
As warmth and bliss combine.
These Single Malts drown all my faults
I count them one by one
Watching each pass through a raised glass
My Aspersorium-
But mine contains Heavenly Flames
Which sear into my soul
I’ve come to Praise this intense blaze
Which makes me lose control.
It does submerge the morbid urge
To find a swift release
And be content with permanent
And everlasting peace.
But my meekness is a weakness-
A flaw which guarantees
A gilded hell where I can dwell
Toasting bad memories.
Yvonne Denise Springer
Copyright ©2005 Yvonne Denise Springer
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 2:56 PM UTC
While looking at the television newscast.
You realize you're watching the news robots.
Simply because they have no freedom to be free.
They work required restrictions.
They told the way to dress.
The way to act.
And the news they can report under guidelines.
The teleprompters are their best friends.
Especially for those without glasses.
But prefer the contact lens.
Jerry Springer once stated.
The news is about pretty people reporting.
And if you notice his words are true.
If the news robots deny it.
They trying to pull the wool over you.
Ask yourself?
How many ugly folks reports the news.
Many news systems works underhanded.
That's why many has been branded.
Things won't change anytime soon.
But notice the National Enquire's delivering truth too.
But then I could have been talking about the news too.
When it comes to them hardly any.
But with pretty folks -there are plenty.
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 9:45 AM UTC
Some avoid these shows.
Some lives by them.
Some speak of their disgust.
Then many aware that they all in us.
Men tempted to play upon their best friends spouse.
Or their ladies best friends.
Women playing brothers, cousins against one another.
Or surprise siblings that many been unaware of.
Then some of us simply say, "they all in us."
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC