"suitably" poems
NOT ALL POETRY SHOULD BE ABOUT DEPRESSION,
LOVE, WIND AND TEA-CUPS - I PREFER TO BE
THE DONALD TRUMP OF THE POETRY WORLD:
SEEMINGLY ILLITERATE, OBSCENELY DISSOLUTE,
UNINFORMED, SOCIOPATHICAL AND FALSELY MAGICAL;
SOMEONE SAID THAT, 'WE HAVE A DUTY TO
IMPART KNOWLEDGE,' I DID NOT ENTIRELY AGREE,
NOT ALL OF US ARE SUITABLY QUALIFIED AND THOSE
WHO ARE NOT MAY PASS ON THEIR OWN MISTAKES;
A TEACHER MISSPELT THE WORD 'BOLLOCKS,'
AND NOW HALF THE TOWN IS WRITING THE WORD
BOLLUCKS INCORRECTLY; THOSE WHO CAN, DO AND
THOSE WHO CAN NOT, JOIN THE RADIO -LIKE CERTAIN
PRESENTERS, IT RINGS, WHO SEEM TO HAVE KNOWLEDGE OF ALL THINGS.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
I
Put down your wooden blocks, Miyagi -
Smashing stuff against your head and shredding the Yellow Pages
Is child's play to me
I can split atoms with my teeth!
II
Hey, long time no see, Miyagi
What's that you say?
You got caught in the fallout and now you're radioactive
Just like me?
That's great, buddy,
We'll call you the Blue Flash
And we can team up
Fight the darkness together
...You say you lost all your teeth, and your hair is next..?
Hey, Miyagi, that's not funny...
That kinda **** doesn't happen in comics
Where an accident in a science lab
or an experiment with nuclear energy
Lands you a seat in the superhero hall of fame
And then you adopt a suitably awesome superhero name
No, you have to be mistaken
Look at me - I didn't die from radiation
A steady dose has given me powers
Beyond my wildest dreams
But for you, it seems
more like a bad dream
Your white blood cell count drop, drop
dropping
Your body getting weaker
Instead of stronger
No, no, this can''t be happening
You say you can't go a day
Without the nausea and the vomiting
You pray for relief, for this
Journey into Misery to end
Here, Miyagi, my friend - take hold of my hand
And I will do my best to defend you
In your final stand
You and I, old bud,
Fighting the darkness together
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 11:19 PM UTC
when i was six years old my whole family went to disney world and being the self-respecting born and bred star wars fans we were, my brother and i cajoled our parents into letting us buy pictures of our little faces photoshopped onto the faces of star wars characters.
my brother? anakin skywalker. and me? aayla secura.
who you probably haven't heard of, even if you're a pretty big fan of the series. to get you up to speed, aayla secura was a jedi knight and a general during the clone wars era in the prequel trilogy, which is all suitably ******* badass, but if i remember right she has roughly five minutes of screen time in the movies and even less in lines. and you probably remember her as that one blue chick.
and if i remember right she was also one of about three or four female options for the pictures. sure, there was padme amidala and princess leia, who are badass ladies in their own rights, but see the thing is that no six year old watches starwars and thinks to themselves, "hmm, i want to be a politician!" you think to yourself, "i want to be a jedi." and the only option that was a girl and a jedi was a background character.
but that's the thing isn't it? being a background character, a love interest, a side-kick is something girls grow used to seeing themselves cast as. sure, we're in the movie, but with half the lines and screen time. never the center of the story. never the hero, just the pretty girl with fluttery eyelashes he saves. too often i found myself having to invent my own characters and stories so that i could feel that i was part of a narrative, too.
and suddenly, more than ten years too late for for six year old me but just in time for a whole new generation of little girls, the person in the center of the poster clutching a blue lightsaber like a beacon of the light side was a girl.
so this halloween as i'm handing out candy i will see myself in every little girl with her hair twisted into three buns and light saber in her hand and the galaxy in her eyes. finally, finally the story is about her.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
You reached my heart
Much like a worm
Crawled through inches
Of insecurity and flesh
Till you reached that
Precious pink sac
You stuffed it full with your
Disgustingly masculine company
Slimy wiles and wriggly larva
The size of my thumbs
Then once I was
Suitably contaminated
You pierced it
Without a drop of remorse
Maggots and sludge
Emotions and memories
Burst and
Spatter across
My ******* and neck
You made your presence
Well known in my
Dying and infected carcass
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 6:46 PM UTC
You tell me tales of Rio
Thailand, Fiji, Cairns and Rome
I know that you are thinking
I'm a boring stay-at-home
Here's me, so rough and scruffy
-You, impeccably dressed
I know that you expect that I'll
Be suitably impressed
But while you're clocking air miles
I'm planting trees at home
To **** up all the carbon
We have recklessly let go
And while you're busy shopping
Trying to buy your life some zest
I'm too busy laying hedges
Too be suitably impressed
I'm sorry, these things you boast of
Are not doing it for me
Not all the things that one can buy
Compare to just one tree
I really shouldn't show off - but
You see my life is truly blessed
With each flower, bird or bumble-bee
I'm suitably impressed
So stop boasting of your travels
Stop judging by the cost
If that is all you care about
Such treasures will be lost
Your obsession with your image
Your concern with money, wealth
Is ultimately certain
To affect your mental health
Just stop. Step outside into nature
It's a simply made request
I'm sure you'll see the wonder
And be suitably impressed
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 6:30 PM UTC
So many conflicting images
society tells us exactly how we should look
but I’m still supposed to love myself exactly as I am.
Supermodel tall and athletic
but still petite enough that no man feels intimidated.
No extra rolls or bulges anywhere in sight
but not skinny enough to appear sickly.
Never cover yourself up too much as to appear prudish
but showing too much skin equates with promiscuity.
Don’t be too in touch with your sexuality else you should be labeled a *****
but don’t deny too many men else you should be labeled a tease.
Never not be aware of your surroundings as danger lurks in every shadow at night
but don’t seem too hyper vigilant unless you should appear paranoid.
Don’t dare wear too much makeup
but never let them see your flaws.
Beauty comes before all else, including pain
but never let them see how you achieve your beauty in danger of being labeled vain or sick.
Girls should be driven to excel
but only in activities deemed suitably feminine.
Society’s views dictate from birth how we should act, feel, and look as women,
but the molds they attempt to force us into are not designed to contained all the magnificence we are born with.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:02 PM UTC
Young girls laugh
and cut the stems with fingernails
or small blunt scissors and set them in a vase
they gleam
rough cut flowers
husks by next month
after the water has dried
their stems touching crystal.
Weighty as feathers
desiccated while in bloom
these fossils
touched the moon
only a shadow
of their former selves
brides of the clouds
like statice, lavender, eucalyptus,
pearly everlasting
is nothing but lashes
claws of petal
they don’t care if they are hollow
if their throats are silent
wear iron smiles
ghost bloom
the very bitterness in them
is just a bough of hours
suitably decorating
the table.
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 1:32 AM UTC
Complexion of free-flowing colors; multitudes one moment; shining formations the next.
Bright the sunlight of high-noon.
Water, how universally eclectic.
And it was thus,
on this laden breeze,
I was brought to the lightest of ease.
What need is there to seek,
When it is all prevalent, here, under the blue of this waterfall.
Streaming pristine mosaics of iridescent green.
Right here, I wish to lay in mirror-glass cure complexions.
Mingling fingers among the pebbles, I marvel.
This quarry of my mind.
Nature at best and mostly green, I guess.
Of this I wish to bring to you,
Or you to it.
Whomever it is that you might be.
A land, however far away.
Happiness, the ultimate goal.
I surely need no intervention, for
The pathless trail lies clear, suitably
Ahead of me.
Bringing power to those obscure;
The life of this beauty –
What isn’t there to love?
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 10:37 PM UTC
She was a loyal friend, now she has gone
Gone for good, that is until we meet again.
She was my painting friend, we used to sit
and watch the poppies dance in the rain.
We'd get out our brushes and paint
we applied water to our paper to drench.
We'd watch drops of rain dangle from the petal
and then felt the water in our laps from the bench.
She would smile and we flooded in the colour
The creases of the petal fell to its shadows hue
The rain water flooded the path where the poppies stood
and our paper and laps were suitably wet through.
The poppy outstretched itself and shook to the sky
unravelling itself and tossing dew across the way
Our paper dried with its colour wash correct
It was Betty's poppy and it is here to stay.
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
Is it indubitably unsuitable
to be suitably incommunicable
on the undeducible deduction
dubitably deduced
to be immovably unmovable
or doably undoable?
Or can a crazy conundrum communicate
the incommunicable indubitabilty
of the undeducibly suitable deduction?
Simply said,
such is doably suitable,
or indubitably deducible
if the doably communicable deduction
deduces down
to the suitably suitable,
Movably reducible reduction
that's indubitably doable.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 8:29 AM UTC
She seemed like a nice, pretty girl, so I had invited her to dinner in a small Italian restaurant. Over aperitifs (spritzer for her, scotch for me) she told me about herself. She was twenty years old, she came from Baltimore, her name was Lucinda, but her family called her Lulu. She had a passion for poetry, in fact she had just finished writing a poem, that very day: would I like to hear it?
In the circumstances, only one answer was possible.
I tried to look suitably impressed, and when eventually it was over, I applauded. "What imagination," I said, "What talent!" She smiled, reached inside her handbag and brought out a sheaf of dog-eared manuscripts. "Dear God," I thought, "There's more!" Oh well; there was still the possibility that after the liqueurs she might ask me back to her place, for *** (Or, as she would probably pronounce it, "coffee".)
So on, and on, she went. The little lady had a talent all right: she could recite and eat simultaneously. Neither the pasta puttanesca nor the saltimbocca di vitello could slow down her almost-rhyming couplets. At last, the papers were all returned to the handbag. She looked at me expectantly. "So, do you think I could get my poetry published?" I paused, to consider my answer. But the pause was too long: she looked right into my eyes, sensed my mood, and in that moment knew what the answer had to be.
During the dessert she crumpled; large, heavy tears fell silently into her zabaglione. Poor lamb! I'd never wanted to hurt her. She didn't deserve the destruction of her dreams.
Who does?
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
I want to experience what it feels like to wholeheartedly love who I've become. To realize that one day the only person I need to keep sane is myself. Independence isn't about doing things on your own as compared to realizing what can be accomplished by yourself. If as if you are surprising and surpassing your own high expectations. And if what they say is true, that we ourselves are our own worst critics, then so be it. But when I wake up in the morning I want to feel proud that I made it through an eventful dream, unlike the nightmares that still scare me even when I'm awake. Or the gloom that hangs over my mirror every morning while I cake on powders and gloops of color toning make up in order to be suitably eye catching. My push up bras don't even push up my lack of chest fat but in turn let my self confidence sag. I'm not always short enough for the boy I like to be a picture perfect couple. Nor am I tall enough to enjoy how the skyline kisses the horizon. My **** doesn't sway the way my steps take me further and further down judgmental halls with eyes that can shatter someone's assurance of themselves. My skin isn't naturally glowing due to the dull lighting guiding me way through this dim settled life I have set up for myself. The natural hair on top of my head isn't constantly in place; and alike the baby hairs, I myself am flowing wildly by which ever the wind blows. And I wish I can say I will someday appreciate the small things that I believe are physically wrong with me. Like the way my freckles become more noticeable in the summer. Or how my hair becomes darker in the winter. Or how my birthmark on my leg reminds me of South Carolina. Or how my fingers are allowed to touch everything beautiful.
That's the way I want to be. That's the way I will be.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
Allow me to hold your breath for just a moment,
I long to figure the reason why you breathe,
And why it is, your heart continues.
Persistent machinery of wicked wiring,
And unknown roots.
I distrust anything that can work without rest.
It is not natural.
Breathe in, breathe out.
In rhythm with the drumming in your chest.
Stay in time,
Remain suitably in line.
And do you know it now yourself?
How it is,
Or rather, why it is that you exist?
Because without any explanatory factors
What s the point of anything at all?
There must be some form of reasoning,
Or you'd be able to simply slip off without struggle
As you wished.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 6:04 PM UTC
What is the greatest gift of all?
You can think of a lot of things
A house, a car, a mobile phone
Money, power, fame
Food, drinks, sweets
And I can go on and on
However, as you all know
All these are indicative
Of a materialistic state of mind
In my opinion, the greatest gift
That a human being can receive
Is none other than empathy
There is nothing quite as impactful
As putting yourself in the shoes of others
To show love, you need to show empathy
Imagine the struggles your loved ones go through
Every single day
In order to be successful
When a friend tells you her problems
Listen, not simply to provide solutions
But to understand her perspective
And it doesn't apply only to family and friends
It can apply to anyone
For instance, if you are a counsellor
You need to put yourself in your patient's shoes
And understand why he reacts the way he does
So that you can advise him suitably
If you are a doctor
You need to think the way your patient does
So that you can reassure her
Therefore, it is very important to be empathetic
Because you will then be doing your bit
To make the world a better place to live
Of course, it will not happen overnight
But slowly and steadily
The impact can be felt
However, not everyone is blessed with empathy
There are so many of us
Who think of only themselves
It may help them in the short term
However, they will not be able to find happiness
In the long run
What's the use of wealth or power
If you are not surrounded by people
Who will stick around
Even when the going gets tough?
Hence, as I've said before
The greatest gift
That a human being can receive
Is empathy
Full stop
Sep 19, 2022
Sep 19, 2022 at 1:24 PM UTC
•••
"on some days, I love you more than others,"
an early morning uh oh
IROLO
(instantly regretted out loud observation),
of the potentially ruinous kind,
spoken with malice towards none,
*and obviously,
no forethought,*
firmly but modestly muttered
over the modestly rumpled
courtroom battlefield
of sheets, newsprint, mugs
and Bocelli on low
smockingly,
(a slow spreading smile of mock),
she turns her gaze upon
the presumed guilty, querulous,
soon-to-be-ruined ruminator (me),
and asks with
disdainful derisive decisiveness
is your first cuppa too hot darling?
has your uncommon sense of non-sense been burnt?
t'is true I reply,
I feel the burn!
for am I not sworn
to tell the whole heated truth
and nothing but?
my love for you is simply
a mathematical additive,
progression series
every new day I love you
is forever
a mighty mite more
than the prior,
a smudged smidge of a penciled line,
taller than the
higher higher notated
upon ancient yesterday's doorpost
ergo,
ip so factoid,
and therefore,
by definition
on some days I love you more than others
•••
p.s. never have conversations like this in the presence of within-reach newspapers,
for they be
easy rolled and revised
into fearsome weaponry,
suitably for handy smacking"*
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
I watch her and know my friend's Cat has a soul
why greet me and chase away the strays ?
Go figure out the unity, it last
and you will realise
there's instinctual maturity,
the pride of her groom
the health regime of cat grass
prawns auto reckoning !
the decision that Rock N Roll
is a tacky tail, is gracious,
her class suitably ignores
associated man made discordance
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 4:13 PM UTC
So lunch is on me then eh?
lips suitably pursed, pinkie raised
to the correct angle,
she sits and sips the last dregs of
life she's squeeezzed outta me-
a fitting accompaniment
to the thick slice o' succulent wallet
she's so elegantly carved out of my ***
dripping with greenback,
for those blessed with perfect diction,
her lawyer comments on the tenderness
of my sauteed sweetbread,
"hummmm a little stringy,
but ever so nourishingly juicy".
as he pours the remnants of my self esteem on to his final bill...
alan nettleton
Jun 21, 2010
Jun 21, 2010 at 8:27 PM UTC
To concretize my theorized love,
I could play the accidental odds and strew
slippery tongues of spotted petals
onto thickly trafficked highways,
or use the best predictive modelling
to deduce when and where I can poke out
a well-heeled boot to trick unwary spills
and ****** a kiss from the unsuspecting
lips of any suitably compatible
passerby oft times inconvenienced and passed
on by.
These well-oiled and crudely experimental
methods do produce expected results,
but not the breakthrough nor the looked-for
satisfaction of appropriate reactions,
so I'll keep my dotted eyes tucked in
their pulpy stems and my shoddy toes curled back
while I beam my bits of invitation through
circuitous routes spatially arrayed along
parallel paths where one might search
with an extra-terrestrial inventiveness,
and wait.
I know the trials of these errant waves
won't add up to a guarantee
my burpy blips of a pulse can reach
the receptively comprehending and responsive
soils I seek, but it's the remoteness of a stead
to come stalking that appeals, and despite
the Hawking drone of unveiled warnings
I might regret such contact, I'll risk it all
on vaguely washed wishes this astronomical
anomaly with an alien sensibility has
one match.
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 3:15 PM UTC
floatin in the air of innoncence
holdin on to kisses
that surpasses these shaded lips
oh in this daydream
in my corner of despair
she stands
loud as reasons
which I cannot remand
impossible to let go
the rushed night and shy goodbye
creepin home before the mornin light
esthetic eyes that devour
these invariable melancholic smiles
of mine
amorously disposed desire for
deceivin bedshaped moves
again, to put this body on fire
charmed in shame
this au naturel attire
suitably awaitin ur tardly arrival
nice and slow
utterin words
for ur ears alone
"take me down, kiss me below"
11
Jun 9, 2010
Jun 9, 2010 at 11:39 AM UTC
If you fancy
a cheap thrill,
I suggest you
buy erotica read on CD.
The narrators never disappoint.
Listen to it only in your car.
Be sure to take the route
with one too many stoplights—
teeming with all of
the self-righteous pedestrians
who think they always warrant
the right-of-way.
Roll down
all of your windows.
Turn the volume up
to a number that will
allow you to suitably share.
Employ a smirk of
the most contented caliber,
& bank on making
someone’s ********* day.
*('Cause, no matter how you skin it,
we’re all some kind of human.)*
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 12:24 PM UTC
She is the living embodiment of the cliché,
The song where the male sub-lead
Returns from some second shift, some third drink
To find she has gone, leaving some scrap-paper note,
Hastily scribbled and wholly incomplete,
Some variation upon Don’t try and find me,
And so she is suitably unfound herself,
As she has given great thought to her froms,
But rather short shrift to her tos,
Finding herself north of the Thruway,
Looking for somewhere to spend the night
(The twin motors of adrenaline and anxiety running on fumes)
Happening upon, as if almost by some beneficent magic,
A Travelodge bordered by an expanse of cornfield
(Long since gone to seed, the stalks bowed and spent,
Waiting for the patently overdue cob harvester)
And after she is checked in and somewhat unpacked
(The bored, bemused woman who slumps about the front desk
Mercifully sparing with the small talk)
The skies, which had been late-October slate blur-gray,
Slightly malevolent but only implicit in their threats,
Open up in a cold and unwelcome drizzle,
And, whys and wherefores being things for a later date,
She runs outside and begins dancing in the parking lot,
Unseen and unremarked upon,
And even though the rain is cold, soaking, grim in portent
(The forecast dourly noting the possibility of wet snow,
Nattering that accumulation is possible at higher elevations.)
She is seemingly unaware and unconcerned
As to the upshot of this drenching,
Any whispers of the two or three other occupants of the motel,
Any judgments passed upon her mad danse pour un,
As she has passed beyond any notion of admonition.
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC
*
The history,
Often repeated
Seldom deleted
Although
Mostly manipulated
Suitably stipulated
Yet
Differently, it can be interpreted
And in the process it is re-created
***Is the history,
Always been a mystery??***
*
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 8:22 AM UTC
I thought Snake Oil Salesmen were
a relic of the past, standing up on a stage dispensing
blatant lies and bogus even dangerous cures for
exaggerated imagined illness and or personal fears.
I thought we ran all of them out of town,
suitably tarred and feathered,
Riding on a hitching post rail.
Perhaps some things never change.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Step right up folks!
In this little bottle, I hold in my hand,
is a magic elixir of my own imagination and invention,
That is absolutely-unconditionally guaranteed
To Make America great again,
All I ask for this be all, cure all, is one small vote
cast for me, crowning me King of all there is."
Now where did we put that rail?
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC
This feathered quill with fluted nib stands idle in an idle hand and a man with little time to spare,despairs of flowing from its point,a point to make,a case he cannot state.
It is late the ink has bled,I am being led to some conclusion,propelled to see a page, unwritten not by me but by the elements.
Underwater I breathe air,a little trick I found when underneath the earth and being ground, they thought into fine dust,the fire was just a place to warm my bones while the winds sang songs to me in dulcet tones.
And still the quill sits silently as if begrudging me a moments rest, it would be a feather in my cap if only I could slap another word out of its tip,but no letters slip to form these things,it seems that silence only brings me emptiness,even less than that when words within are crushed and flattened by the fattening of worms that squirm and hold me in their coils,and any words there were are spoiled,deleted,secreted quietly and forgot about.
In the tomb without a light, this ink is but a link to further things to think and if only I could force this quill to spill something.
Underlined in red and on the tombstone up above it said,
'here lies within a man so thin
and yet so thick
his quill
a magic stick
his ink
a skating rink
Magic couldn't save him'
But this is of another page when reached upon a ripe old age and suitably I shall erase that which pertains to me.
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 1:07 AM UTC
punctuality suckles a speedy affiliation
with wakeful limbs, christened of an inferior exception
some days I might touch upon a suitably plain persistence
through a righteous soliloquy,
an instance, steeped in harmonic fear,
where music can no longer buy sleep but ****** gestures imagine a time
when oxygen will not consent but leave my lungs,
scabbed,
torn
then will come the difficult hello
for whisky rarely clears the mind
of smoky memories in slowed down time
more so while you still live in the hole
I drank into the side of my jaw
eternity
it seems so vague,
spacious yet thimble sized
whilst nature frowns,
cured,
withered and ferrous
noting the unobserved,
even as the militant dynamic
of every unendurable star fingers forever
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:00 AM UTC