"statutory" poems
~~~
for Matt
~~~
*"My suspect credibility upon the rockets of birds,
the soft parts of people,
the oceans’ inevitable, cyclical weeping,*
Who has time for poetry has more time than they deserve"
Breaking Spring by Matt Hart
~~~
your words warp me,
the woven texture of your composition,
Matt,
dumbfounding the sweeping, weeping, instant recognition in
the soft parts' of
Nat,
where credibility
long past being suspected,
simply arrested for statutory dark room
torrented questioning
deserve poetry deserve blessing deserve curse
You Jacob, wrestle with this angel witch curveball!
'tis better to give or receive
this poetry admonishment?
for who knows where the time goes,
when the fix is in,
the addiction itch,
commands and commends,
*feed the poetry *****
write or die*
one fix, one poem,
carousel leads to another,
yet,
with only time to live,
pay the bills
for renting the space you Earth occupy,
no time for illegal
compulsive word blending
the interrogator demands
deserve poetry deserve blessing deserve curse?
*who is your supplier?
who is your time stealer?*
by the ocean, weeping,
you plead innocence,
just ill drivel, needy for expulsion,
deserving of repulsion,
swear repeatedly,
never again, imbibe, scribe
*but the ***** coos in my ear,
reaching beneath
the vulnerable soft tissued skin and cells:
write or die
I thieve your time,
'tis nothing you deserve,
I am Poetry,
just your mistress,
better served*
deserve poetry
deserve blessing
deserve curse
~~~
June 25, 2016
written by the ocean, weeping
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
Her tobacco smeared luscious lips,
gave him a long deep kiss,
the statutory warning came true,
a killer, no doubt.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 9:43 AM UTC
tickling tape worms living in ape arms
squiggly shapes getting fat like grapes and
traveling in veins like a gutter swallows rain
like an utter in pain painting pitchers so milky white
tight like an overstuffed mite
bee or egg infested
ceiling unappealing
but
crack is revealing my
inner thoughts
statutory holocaust
saturated oil spots
aggravated foil plots
plotting for a battle
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 1:23 AM UTC
- Hi, I'm calling to tell you that:
I wrote down everything you ever said to me (in the literal sense, standing stretched against my own uncultured and violently ****** vocabulary)
- And am regurgitating it back to innocent passerby - my sincerest apologies to those poor victims of circumstance, suspended in the projectile ***** of my dysfunctional disdain
(In a slew of worm guts and warm bodies, mama-bird to baby-bird saying "please don't leave the nest" - it's too hot for blankets anyways)
My original letter to you was written on the backside of an airplane **** bag, where I detailed my favorite scenes from a movie we subconsciously made entitled "Baby's First Time", while blissfully unaware of my stern faced in-flight companion.
My first draft, though, was a series of half-hearted winks and very, very drunk texts, beginning with:
SEXT: I offer my services as sacrificial ******
(and followed a whopping six months later by)
SEXT: I am still young enough to accuse you of statutory ****
(The art of seduction seems to be less of an art and more of a particular science)
You are:
- My own personal Edgar Allan Poe, just blonder and younger, with a bigger gut and a bigger ego and (alas!) a complete lack of interest in your sweet Annabel (but I could change my name)
- And oddly enough, I'm the one writing the poems here
(The whole world's a stage, with me just watching your sad indie boy band from the nosebleed seats)
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC
It began with National
Geographic
and those pictures
of nearly naked
African women
as I lay on the floor
of the hall
and from there
it became
being ****** by a dog
in the bathroom
to twenty second ***
with a girl
who said I was impotent
to becoming
aware that my *****
was too small
to a statutory case
where I didn't
get caught
to a time in bed
with a girl
who said
"How much longer
is this going to go"
to a grandmother
who put me to work
and the **********
was just like that
some of the time
to a one-night stand
with an overweight girl
which was the best time
to me thinking
"I haven't done too well
with the ladies,
maybe I should try
the men"
and then doing so
and deciding I didn't
like it
to a few unforgettable
moments which were
forgettable
to an illicit affair
with a married woman
in motel rooms
to a woman who picked me up
and said, "Let's be friends"
and as she was going
up the stairs
she said, "OK, let's get
this over with"
and I ran outside
to get out of there
then to twenty-one years
of celibacy
when I realized
that my best ***
was with myself
and so I married him.
THE END
Mar 5, 2011
Mar 5, 2011 at 5:51 AM UTC
Poisonous resentment,
Dripping down my esophagus.
Like the salvia you coaxed down my throat,
Icy cold and bitter.
Purple chrysanthemums blooming,
On my pale, once innocent flesh.
Eyes fogged by deception,
I am unable to escape you.
The seed of regret plants itself in my heart,
Roots of the weeds rip through me,
Polluting the heart, tainting the blood.
Paralysed, you force me down and tear me apart.
Fog clears my vision
just like drug laced honey you fed me
I see your true form in the window of my future
Pathetic old man, I’m not afraid of you.
Your claws saturated with manipulation
Grasp and tear at my flesh
But you can’t trap me here any more
I’m not your hostage
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 9:43 PM UTC
Weary hobbling men,
of stature far from social statutory,
embody brief hypotheses of me.
Weary hobbling men,
managed by bronzed and tall
strong handsome men,
embody sick hypocrisy.
Blind old beggars,
who sit on broken concrete
and breathe through broken lungs,
speak clearly of what resides in not what eyes speak,
but of what love and trust sing.
They see more than we,
for they, both blind and whis’pring,
are contented just to breathe.
Jun 17, 2011
Jun 17, 2011 at 1:40 PM UTC
We were born writers,
insane already when our mothers were aching
to sent us out in the world
relieve their personal catharsis.
Little did they knew
that this was the beginning of their pain.
Their suffering, starts from childbirth
and lasts till the moment they die.
Our girlfriends will make the same mistake
as our mothers;
falling in love
believing in the ***
in the future entwined
around us
and
some,
at least one will make
the statutory mistake of bearing our child
the trojan horse for the end.
We, are like parasites
we **** food, water, shelter
we nourish in beauty, warmth and care
and yet when we find open exposed skins
floating on blue, timid waters
we have nothing better to do.
words are our weapons,
our friends, our nemesis
our route to fame and
the very real lack of it.
We smash everything around us,
people ****** into day jobs around us
suffer
forget the daily bliss of life
if they share a conversation
forget more
if they dare share a kiss
a personal intimation.
Besides, we are depressed souls.
Repressed
sexually charged
impotent
and
ugly, repugnant
narcissists.
We sit in coffee shops
with our personal diaries
and create and destroy the future
of the tomorrow
that reads,
believes in us.
Every inch of caffeine
makes us **** out hate
and
spill out so much guts
that people who read us
squirm like acid burns.
We create hypes,
fool around with Nietzscheian ideas,
existential crap
but all we are doing
is creating a device
for shameful procrastination.
The world was not built around us
No world will
Whatever we think
we scoop up earthly dust
our jobs are but the
position of glorified
janitors.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
I live in a world full of prying eyes, these windows have no blinds as I feel their eyes looking at my sleeping body. I hear their whistles, I hear their words. I awoke when the glass shattered all over my carpet floor. I looked up into those eyes that were like a lion looking at his next **** He walked closer to my bed and put rosy glasses over my eyes, my thoughts became foggy, my eyes turned to a blur, and all I could think of was him. How he was a nice guy, how I loved him, how he would never use me, how he loved me, and furthermore how no one could change my thoughts of him. Yes, all of those things became a reality, a reality I now wish to change because I was brainwashed. One night I was in an unsafe environment, where I was exposed to you. I said yes thinking you were sixteen but you were an adult, an adult who preyed on young insecure girls like me. After that night you took the rosy glasses of and what I knew was that you hurt me, you killed the part where I could fix myself, but now I'm broken. All I was to you was a porcelain doll that you could play with and once you were done you felt in pieces. You stole the pieces to my puzzle and now I'm unfixable, I'm broken to no point of return. I'm not the person I used to be, you killed me.
Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 3:12 AM UTC
For give me mothers if I take another son away
The ***** shouldn't a tested if my ****** wouldn't spray the K
2 the face
2 the point
Hollows in yo temple *****
Leave 2 dents in yo face like some dimples *****
+
Ugh
+
The devil told me that I'm coldblooded
Semi stoic look on my face n these hoes love it
Ain't got it on me when they shoot imma road run it
Never put trust n no ***** cuz these hoes covet
+
Ugh
+
Im like the black mclovin
Wit a wrap sheet 4 days
Tell yo mans cuz he shovin
N if low keep pushing imma have 2 start bussin
'Nother dumb ***** dead in the streets over nothing
Agh
+
My mama say that idk about the struggle but she don't know half if the **** a ***** toggle wit
+
She only know about a 5th of the **** I did
+
N if she knew me she would call me the apocalypse
+
Cuz I done did mo dirt then a Lil bit
+
N if this rapping don't crack imma cop a brick
+
These ****** say they were its at but the fulla ****
+
Cuz we the only mfs really taking risk
+
When I was 17 I ****** a ***** n she was 30
+
They call it statutory **** but I was hella flirty
+
I know some ****** out south that'll do u *****
+
Razor blade 2 yo face like that ***** birdie
+
Ugh
+
I gotcho sis on my lap
N yo fix in a sack
Text books on my back
Imma lowlife pirate I ain't even gotta act
N my ****** on attack
Lowlife just relax
Ugh
1+2
N I mean that ****
I was blind 2 it all now I c that ****
Imma show u mufuckaz that u can get rich
If yo friends turn 2 opps n yo main chick flip
Ugh
+
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 2:12 AM UTC
I can't find the
words to smash in your
face like a brick,
or tie around your
neck like a noose.
I want to scream how
much I hate you until your
ears ring,
***** my hands with your
sweet nothings,
nothing but lies as
you took another
beneath you.
Was I ever
enough?
Even if I'd given you the
last simplicity of my
being, would it ever
have been
enough?
I wish my words could
slap you hard like
yours did:
****** up",
"ignorant",
"I could've done better".
But my tongue
bleeds with how long I've
been holding them in,
sharp like
razor blades on the insides
of my cheeks,
wishing so to carve out
yours like you did a
fifteen year old girl's
innocense.
Sweet child, if only I
could hold her to
my chest, and
reassure her that she was
never the impure one.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
A restitution
in statutory
there a
transitory program
swift to
encircle firm
when ridicule
compel a
moratorium where
Russia still
a democratic
likelihood in
arms race
soon retire
for Holy
Land again.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 10:23 AM UTC
1
Defined by an intense need to
apostrophize and to tether, dictated by nothing
but your definitive space’s lissome address,
when visited, opens up to a closing, or sizing a gap
if syndetic, and reaching out for a retreat a frail gesture
meaningfully pursuing a link, a strain that is
2
When you were alive because you felt it, subscribing
to a phenomenon, granted by a sovereign of our difference
unconsciously at first it was statutory to a fault but then conceding
to it and accepting, fit in this meeting as if too relaxed
that it may sleep or bear noise even – your incidence of me sees clearer
than any lens, and when fond of, you will
make out of my clenched fists, when put together, a diptych with
your hands taken into, receiving constantly the burden of days
3
As destination of a truth
that is if you listen that there is something inaudible in this
reality – your dream will make an apparition out of its center,
said when it is too comfortable to even slouch at a constant day,
setting this faculty tranquil the face of a punctual eve
somnambulating through towns triggered by dim white light,
forcing windows to contract, the body somewhere afloat, contacting
the precision of something as rescue,
your life seen with value when peril touches your deepest parts,
almost daily in this location as if you were shorn out of
difficulty, looking for me to halve all of this.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 2:59 AM UTC
a sudden Bonanza viz ****** abuse among
faux Green Acres within Mayberry RFD
now spells showtime for The Avengers, Batman
and Robin to Get Smart
take to heart (what haint no new bob bing beast),
those perpetrators to forsake their Good Times
yet, who determines what constitutes, and how to differentiate
mere kibitzing from unwanted overtures
though most people would concur when
definitive, tangible, verbal assault occurs,
spoiling future Happy Days, yet numerous incidents *** hide
from clear cut serious offences indeed)
rather when details appear nebulous, sketchy, vague,
et cetera defy categorization, giving benefit of doubt to
females or males in question claiming harrassment,
especially when minors testify as adults, asper
major gross indignties (such as pedofilia, date,
incestuous, statutory **** ******
et cetera committed), that occurred years or decades ex post facto
sans molestation, said time delayed contention
must be taken at face value without fail informing
a jury retroactive justice must be must be handed down
to the accuser blatantly, flagrantly, flaunting illegality,
hence fair sentence accordingly adjudicated
insync decreed capital crime abrogated child welfare,
defiling and permanently affecting emotional well being
of said underage youths, as best one
to compensate aggrieved subjects must purge
abominable categorical imperative
asper deliberate wanton (I soup pose), tricked, mislead,
forced to participate unwillingly
risking mental, physical and spiritual health of innocent kid
imposing unforgivable, horrible, execrable misdeeds
irrevocably damaging Lassie or laddie,
which indelibly foisted battering, whereby
even Doctor Marcys Welby M.D. unable to mend
condemning sufferer to psychological Mash pit
triggering Maude lin while Knot's Landing flooded.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 7:59 PM UTC
you know our observatory minds
hide behind accusatory eyes
reading from statutory lines
stealing glances, stealing lies
borrowed for another time
projecting further our own demise
you know we live on borrowed time
little can ease our troubled minds
it’s hard to know where a feeling lies
in the attic or in vacant lines
i can’t look you in the eyes
it brings me pain: my own demise
but it seems you know the truth
that we’ve wandered in our youth
that these days we’ll come to rue
Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 10:50 PM UTC
When I was a little boy
I had *** with an older woman
in a time-machine.
when we were done
and out of the machine
I was charged with
statutory ****
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 1:34 AM UTC
I heard of you today
when my mom came crying,
and I didn't know what to think
petrified of the words soon to escape her lips
not at all what I expected, not much to say
you were going to prison
statutory **** of a fifteen year old boy
what they hell were you thinking
and only three days until you were supposed to leave
I heard of you today
when my mom came crying
and I thought it was my dad
I didn't want to hear
I didn't want to think of my fathers lifeless body, heart no longer beating
but it wasn't him at all
according to the report, your fourteen year old daughter walked in to see your neck strung around a rope in the doorway
only a thick, unearthed shell of your existence left behind. No note. No explanation.
and now I know that is the worst way to leave.
I pity the thought of your three young children staring at the mirror, only to see your face glaring back
what the hell were you thinking
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 8:16 AM UTC
What is known as the Great Divide?
The Continental Divide, also known as the Great Divide, is one of the most iconic and essential mountain ranges in the Americas, dividing the continents in half and extending all the way from the Cape Prince of Wales in Alaska to the Strait of Magellan at the southernmost tip of South America.
<>
Perhaps.
I have seen the Great Divide
from 30,000 feet
and not known & appreciated
what I
had seen,
voyaged across.
For sure,
I have
watched witnessed,
crossed and embraced,
no doubt
and have breathed the new air over
our current continental divide,
though some will say it always was,
and never
disappeared
this divided country,
a deep rendering,
more a
sundering,
a shearing trench
where the state
of your statutory residence
maybe a bad bad,
color
so don’t
drink from the same
walter fountain as me,
don’t **** in any toilet
I might use,
and keep your kids far,far
away from mine
or I’ll make their corrupted minds
happily ill at ease
enough.
you get my
drift,
that’s a big
hint
go live among your “kind”
stay not my side of the line,
drift away
for I be overeager to
show you the contents of
my democratic
gun collection
oh yeah,
God Bless America
Sep 23, 2024
Sep 23, 2024 at 11:48 AM UTC
I think I'm still in love with you.
I know this because,
like that stupid saying, I let you go.
I let you fly from my grip.
And although you've come back to me,
you're so different now.
Same tone, different smile.
It's just a new day, different style.
The problem is that you don't infect me anymore.
Your words, they dont affect people like before.
I blame you.
You let me stay gone for so long.
But life got in the way, you see.
I often remember our first time together.
I was only 14...
To make a long story short,
it was statutory for sure.
I'm hoping there will be fewer days like this.
Waiting around for our time to resurface.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
Dreams now supine
Rotting into fantasies
Oblivious to the schism
Preferences decided
By an algorithm
The scorching sun
This burning pyre
What more will it take
To set yourself on fire
Killing your instinct
Shaming is taming
****** oozing
You were born to be
A statutory warning
An inherent cast out.
The fuse is in your hands
Don’t you dare fizzle out.
You feel it
You repress it
A dynamite
Convinced it’s a firecracker.
Time to smell the gunpowder
Clickity click.
Trembles the wicker
To dust off the ashes
You must
Burn down the empire.
Proceed with no caution
Set yourself on fire.
Jan 3, 2020
Jan 3, 2020 at 6:56 PM UTC