"stickler" poems
I lay atop the grass with Cecily,
taking in the sun anew.
He calls down,
Come see what I've done now,
come see this new tattoo!
Eh.
I'm rather proud!
Not now cuz, I'm busy.
Oh come now, it's profound!
A portrait of Edgar Allen Poe!
Speaking of poets,
I'm quite in the middle
of an epic something...
DO YOU MIND?!
It's realllllly good though!
Oh, fine.
I plod my *** up the stairs
in the heat and reach the balcony.
I'm blown out of the water.
He's right, it's a masterpiece!
Edgar's soul ringing out
through skin to me!
Oh, wow.
You know,
he owns my favorite poem.
Which is that?
A dream within a dream.
Ah yes,
the canvas muses,
reciting a verse,
just like music.
Well isn't this canvas kindred!
The length of his cigarette
the duration of time we quip.
Back and forth, our own prose.
He says not to kiss your ***
but you are quite moving my soul.
You are inspiring me,
the way you tie emotions to paper,
in utter splendor.
Smoke break over,
to return to mechanical buzzing.
His eyes sincere,
I'd like to share,
hear more your words.
And I yours! I descend stairs,
with Godson in towe.
Are you of this town?
Yes, for now.
As am I, you should take my digits.
OK!
I'm still descending.
Oh, right..
pulling out my phone.
I'm a stickler for full names,
what are you called?
Oh, I'm Italian too!
Well, I'm Sicilian, it's quite a difference.
Oh is it now?
******* elitist.
Handsome though.
We'll see where this goes...
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 12:59 AM UTC
e3Author: Kristen Stevens
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
happy thoughts
Current mood: blissed out
Going to try something new for this one. I'm going to be happy or an approximate facsimile of it. Now you may ask, how does one go about getting into a happy frame of mind?
-Well, I find browsing the bumper sticker app is a good way if you are using your computer as a sole ***** of happiness.
-Watching the HMV hell video on my main page makes me giggle like the school girl (let's face it I was never a giggly school girl but the metaphor works)
-Thinking about how few people will actually survive the coming zombie apocalypse due to their utter stupidity finally catching up with them. (oh, I believe I’m getting giddy now)
-2012 because whatever is/is not going to happen people are going to lose their minds and well, I call it culling of the genetic herd.
-Milk, it does a body good. (I know, I know for any grammatical stickler out there it should be “does…well” but that’s not the line)
-Dr. Who, although I’m still waiting for my TARDIS boarding pass one day my doctor will come
Ok I’m going to quit now. If I get any happier, I might do some permanent damage to my cynical synapses. contented sigh
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 8:35 AM UTC
Darkness feels great...grunge is the Feeling of teeth grinding on a steel plate
it still hates and seems to thrive under...like a mean bear in its cold slumber
they ask how high are you? I say real low...self-esteem is negative zero
steam blows through the nose of the enemy of the hero...which is stellar
enemies pretend to be civilians in red sweaters..killers of all colors
no surprise for the eyes of the blind..for they think deep thoughts and feel deep vibes.
in these's times there is no true winner the good guy is blurred out by the bad guys glimmer...well aren't you chipper? No, I'm bitter
"I'm as salty as a beach in my presidential suite" really? Well I **** it all like bleach
so please get your stain on...and if you take it away I will get my gain on
green light seems right...I call it game on
your all like crooked pictures with their frames off.
One pop to your face will knock your frame off...I will **** everybody..call me Adolf...The stickler...?
What is a joker to a riddler?
the past peel's like old paint stickers
Shadows become thicker...
Water becomes liquor
Girlfriends become strippers.
Darkness engulfs all including the small glimmers
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
Collected punk neon girl
Pixie goth artsy boy
I could read you both anytime
I'm a stickler for a problem
So enough of the courage
Enough of the bravado
I love things I cannot fix
So drugs, mental plague and festering narcissism are the things I like
A secret to only myself
My friend brings on lovers
Who are scared to touch
They look on with pearly eyes
And mouth out words.
With only silent prayer they have --
No action.
She lies there ashamed.
Too pure too touch
Too perfect to be near
She's a gyroscopic girl - a dancing queen of flowers
Too thunderous to tame
Must be nice, I say.
Hell, she replies.
It makes her grow black thorns
Which makes me show her my black moths
In my own brain
Another friend is in a mix
She cannot feel her teeth
As she digs on into cruel flesh
Endlessly --
Prospering off of the mania.
Madness in us all
Sparks only to blame.
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
Tan skinned.
still tan without a sun kiss
still darker than the white kids
not dark enough to know what the struggle is.
Caught between a rock and a hard place,
that little box you check for two or more races
Always having people telling me where to stand, but this is my space
Like discrimination doesn't apply, if only you'd tie on my laces.
Because nothing's more confusing than a half-breed
You don't know what side to friend or fear, which side you'll mostly see.
It's almost as if only my skin tone defines me,
but not the content of my character, as we all have dreamed.
Growing up, I never noticed a difference.
No matter the shade, I never paused for a second.
Un-mirrored figures never swayed me to keep my distance,
It's strange to live in a world incapable of coexistence.
Sometimes I wish I was on a definite "side"
It wouldn't matter to me if it was black or white.
I'm not a big stickler for racial pride because in the end,
well beginning, it's all up to God.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
Quacky little bird sound
When you hear it coming duck!
If farmer Ted is after you
You're running out of luck
Totin' shotgun and bird shot,
Son, he's aiming not to please
He's sneaking close behind you bird
You better hold your sneeze
Cuz your feathers are a tickler
Your bill is orange and bright
While the farmer is a stickler
He will sup on bird tonight
Lord love a duck!
Of him you mustn't run a fowl
Pain from your freshly plucked feathers
Will be enough to make you howl!
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 6:43 PM UTC
A day in my life
I wish you could see
Just what it's like
To be plain me.
A little bit picky
A stickler for what's right,
When the going is tough
I read poetry all night.
When yesterdays madness,
Storms in my way,
I raid my silent mind
And hope for a better day.
When evening draws near,
Sadness cascades down my face,
It's you that I turn to
With a smile, to replace.
O' Virtual lover, one more thing,
Facebook or Tweet, if you'd like to share
Visit me in My Space
E-mail, if you really care..
© Hazel
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC
Doesn't it hurt?
When I say no?
When the words finally spurt?
Doesn't it make you jealous when I glow?
On the brink of breakup.
When the end seems to arrive inevitably.
When you pray for us to makeup.
But show it ever so surreptitiously.
I remember when life was simpler.
When you fought with fists and not words.
When you weren't an emotional stickler.
Now we yearn for school trips, like nerds.
Dark moments make the good ones brighter.
Maybe that's why I fight through quarrels like this.
To see you recover from your issues like a fighter.
How do we get through it: say "Sorry" and kiss.
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 12:37 AM UTC
From
libido
form
through the eye of the needle
the
climactic storm.
Love rules
with
a
view
not just a stickler for vroom
a
home for life
not just a closet
for
brooms.
Jul 27, 2021
Jul 27, 2021 at 2:49 PM UTC
Don’t speak.
I was a freak to bleed in the sheets.
You keep going once our eyes meet.
Never knew this was you all along.
It has been the longest of weeks-
The thought of you makes me weak
With nausea.
I only weep.
Took and crumbled a woman so strong.
You leap from maternal figure
To paternal stickler-
You have Daddy issues because he’s rich
But won’t share.
How dare he not fund your white entitlement.
You curse when he tells you to brush your teeth
At night, because you can’t stand
The thought of someone caring for you
On a non-financial level,
And I’m the devil,
Because I won’t accept the monetary gifts.
You slip me this and that,
Skip the emotional derivative.
And gasp at the fact that
I’ve stopped putting in initiative.
Silly boy, I don’t need you.
A toy made to tease you.
Keep me on this collar,
But I’m the one who leads you.
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 10:11 AM UTC
He that gave me Faith,
Taught me the importance of prayers,
Showed me the humblest way to live.
In place of darkness, light he gave,
From him,I learned how to swallow my anger,
To forget and forgive.
He was my angel in disguise during my darkest hours,
He scared away the demons lurking in my nightmares,
He held me close when I needed him most.
He was kind and gentle but,firm and strict,
He was a stickler for cleanliness,
Spring cleaning was a groan,
Our allotted chores had to be ***** and span,
He checked to see they were done as he wanted.
You should see his face when we failed or skipped our homework,
He sat dejected in a corner crying his heart out,
Asking again and again where he had failed,
So we always tried our best to work hard.
His only weakness was to watch T.V. and play video games,
He also loved to pull mum's legs,
For us weekends were for outings after we had finished our chores and homework.
He was my very own special dad,
A wonderful human being I was lucky to get.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 7:10 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester,
Can you envision
What I’m seeing
You and me
In the Caribbean
On a secluded isle
Somewhere
Just let your mind
Take you there
Sit back relax
Hear what I’m saying
As mental pictures
Start to playing
There’s nothing for you to prepare
Just let your mind take you there
And can you feel
The ocean breeze
Wrestling through
The tall palm trees
And on the beach
If you please
The whitest sand
Anyone sees
Sit back relax
Hear what I’m saying
As mental pictures
Start to playing
There’s nothing for you to prepare
Just let your mind take you there
As the breeze
Blows through your hair
And I make you very aware
Of just how much I really care
Just let your mind take you there
I’m trying to paint
A mental picture
Though champagne might work
A whole lot quicker
As for the details
I’m a stickler
And I can lay it on
A whole lot thicker
Sit back relax
Hear what I’m saying
As mental pictures
Start to playing
There’s nothing for you to prepare
Just let your mind take you there
Can you envision
What I’m seeing
You and me
In the Caribbean
On a secluded isle
Somewhere
Just let your mind
Take you there
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC
I don’t know why
You pretended
To love me
Or how you faked
The whispered sighs and
Shattered hourglasses
Or where I’ll go
Now that home
Isn’t you anymore.
I don’t know why
You pretended
To love me
When it’s easier
To use a brick
To soften me
Or to slice my
Pretty thighs—
(Would I drain the way you like?)
I don’t know why
You pretended
To love me-
Other boys would burn me
Hit me
(Run me over with a tractor?)
You were never
A stickler for
Legality-
What’s the
*******
Problem
Then?
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
Rainbowing guff
Which wasn't whether other wise
The ordeal of love
Was ours, a heart to despise?
Wagers appear
Salt for honey
Quiet for pepper
All out, for the money
Sat urges
Complete the stalking...
When misery has a word...
Isn't a stickler for how, wishes walking?
True...
We have the odor of anxiety
Made to order, made to due
The impossible, in order of tragedy...
Complex cousins
Ready to dance, obligation, into the light
When such, a saving grace, has seen the poison
Blind bell's on the route, to what fate might...
Oct 23, 2024
Oct 23, 2024 at 4:17 PM UTC
the slight movement of a Santa doll
in the corner of my eye
flickering light as I begin to doze
then a whisper or a sigh
a kitchen ceiling bulb cover
seven years without a peep
decides to loosen and shatter
as I lay fast asleep
heard the voice of a young man....Arthur
when I botched the last name at his stone
'my name is not Stickler, it's Strickler!'
he said in a mild mannered tone
He spoke a second time one year later
during a recording session in my den
clearly said my name...'Thomas'
as he flew left to right
and back again
I notice them when they visit
there-in lay the key
they notice when I notice them
the grateful dead
and me
Mar 15, 2025
Mar 15, 2025 at 10:29 AM UTC
She watched as a couple of gingersnap-colored cats darted across the road- their eyes on the prize of one particular patch of sun residing on the driveway of a neighboring home. It has been a long time since she has felt so strongly about anyone other than herself. She crossed the street to follow them, checking the desolate road with an abundance of caution as if to say "Look at me! Look at me! I care so much about my life. So much. So so much!" Although who she was shouting this at is unclear. By the time she reached a pet-able distance from the cats they had already risen from their spot and darted under a nearby wire fence. Now so far out of reach of her hands. She tucked her bony fingers away back into her sandpaper pockets and continued walking.
I wouldn't say I want to die anymore. In fact, more and more it seems I am becoming an ambassador of life. I quit smoking a couple months ago and I'm a stickler about speeding now. I used to find it corny when people preached focusing on the simple joys of life but I guess there is some truth to that sentiment. I feel better. I do. But a part of me is still rotting- I can feel it. I feel it now, standing by the tracks where my dad and I used to melt pennies. I do not want to die but some form of magnetic tar stuck inside me creates an unspeakable pull for me to go lay down on these tracks. I won't do it though. And that's what is really interesting about all of this. I never do it. I miss my dad. I really do. But something about being back here in this town, staying in my childhood home, I feel really close to him again. Now a new thought comes to life: The only place closer to him than where I am now is death itself. The sound of the train grows louder. Louder. And some{thing} urges me to stay.
Aug 11, 2024
Aug 11, 2024 at 2:43 PM UTC
THE LONG HELLO
I left my memory
in a run-down hotel
all damp patches
& peeling plaster.
Who am I?
Wish I knew!
Maybe I'm a salesman
traveling in lady's underwear.
Naw...that don't seem right!
I looked into the blur
that formed & unformed
before me
constructing in my mind's eye
a Hollywood smile
that's all stage set
nothing behind it
but...
fakily real.
She had an Art Deco heart
she wore on her sleeve
bit frayed
'round the edges.
and a laugh that lingered
like perfume.
'Hi, Petal! '
her lopsided grin
was all femme
fatale.
She spoke
in Film Noir.
I knew
the lingo.
'Remember me? '
she sighed softly
as if caressing herself
remembering me caressing her.
I sure wish I remembered it
in intimate detail.
I'm a stickler for detail.
This broad
was slim
but with curves
in all the right places
; ; ; if ya get my drift.
Her laugh was all
lightness and lavender.
'Good...good! '
she cooed.
'I see your ******** is at least
listening! '
I involuntary
covered my crotch
with both hands
as if I was naked.
I wish she was.
Her curves flowed
like very runny honey
over the back of a spoon
trickling on to the tip
of a tongue.
She was strictly
yum as in YUM!
Then she went
all Cubist on me
as if she'd been badly drawn
by that Picasso artist.
I felt like a 2-D
drawing
as she approached me
in 3-D.
My conscience found
its voice
(down behind
the back of the couch)
It wheezed and wheedled
like it was Peter Lore.
'Ouch! ' I ouched.
'Ok...ok! '
I announced in a too loud voice
'I believe I know...
....who done it! '
'It was...' I stammered.
'It was...' I stuttered.
'Cut it...Cutes! '
she snapped like knicker elastic.
'I guess we both know the score.'
She somehow contrived
allowed her dress to fall
to the floor
where it pooled at her feet
like a green silk
puddle.
'Hey has anybody told you
you look just like *** a chelli's
Birth(I burp) of Venus! '
'Cut the wise cracks Jack...
it was the drink
...done it! '
'You just had one bottle of Baileys
too many! '
'But now...it's finished...ya hear
...finshed! '
She threw the bottle
over her naked shoulder.
I listened to her
in glorious Technicolour hangover.
She poured her body
all around me
like jelly
in a mold.
'Hung over sure...but
I think I got the cure! '
Her kiss was like
the last page
of a **** good Who
...dun it!
finally falling
falling
falling
into place.
I kissed her
lovely face.
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 6:41 AM UTC