"supersized" poems
My lazy eyes lap at your thighs,
their jiggles my kryptonite.
Why lust for skin and bone?
bodacious beauty passes by, unnoticed by the blind.
I see it all,
curves and dimples
marshmallow soft and twice as sweet
call my name and boost my blood!
My stare is caught in your embarrassed eye
As you presume negativity not positive effect
pulling at your dress, hiding all you own.
You are beauty supersized,
as my lazy eyes lap at your thighs.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
I,
Art,
Pointed vocabulary.
You,
Me,
Or I,
Combustible,
Inexcusably,
Irrevocably,
Unattainably,
Plated,
And jaded,
New years faded,
We,
Are geometric.
Mathematically methodic,
Periodically pinning,
Hot and heated,
Razor folds and sharply pleated,
Fascist fad,
Plaid,
Bellbottom dreams,
Up do uppers,
Down right downers,
Freedom from freedom,
Morals for the meat grinder,
Hamburger politics,
Methodic politics,
Periodic politics,
Political politics,
Politics frolic with a devil,
And an angel by its side,
For a fast food meal,
With hamburger policies,
And fascist fries,
Supersized and supervised.
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 2:37 PM UTC
We live in a world of noise,
of parallel and asymmetric movement,
where nonchalance has become the norm.
Sweet, melodious and pleasing
is our phony makeup.
We are animals that reject our animalness.
We dread nuclear, secular, red lights, cockroaches, love,
threats and non-threats alike.
Fear has taken us on its morning stroll,
and predictably we bark.
(The sun is almost up)
We are turned on and turned off
by oil-, wind- and hydro-powered switches
that respond to clapping.
There are beige, mauve and burgundy
curtains to choose from,
and supersized french-fries, pots, and cars.
We have lost ourselves in a mess of options,
and strive incessantly to complicate.
We fly in formation
and flow through carefully placed
and beautifully colored rocks made from Styrofoam,
down an improbable slope
of over-romanticized hypotheses.
We are ******** ego-centric and nepotistic,
and asexually multiply.
Thought and all other wasted rationality
keeps the axes of our unsustainable and fanatical wheels
from breaking loose (into free space and true autonomy).
We create meaning where there is no meaning,
and scientifically and thoroughly flout
god and the truth,
whilst we absorb, photosynthesize, bear fruits and grow leaves
(we are still, essentially, vegetable).
With every step we go deeper, and faster and better,
and farther from our selves.
Hence, we barely feel.
We are deaf and blind and mute
and approximately frozen;
and dance, swirl, sing and scream
in our vague, whimsical life,
till we fall.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
I remember the lights going off in the brains of young poets.
Deep in the dank streets of New York or Columbia college.
When the blues and twos would come and round up
The beatniks snapping to the howl of a homosexual mind.
When the generational attitudes of those too old to know,
Control the ****** acts of “violence”, or
The deepening scars of our philosophies.
When the urbanization of historical prowess leads to
Gentrified gypsies of the diamond deserts and endless skyways
When the great in the country isn’t good enough
For the red hats and spray tanned millionaires.
When the stocks of corporate dragons burn down
The attempts of upstart knights and online kingdoms.
When the politicians of old become the scapegoats
For the ironically gerontocratic few.
When the female few who dared couldn’t find their lost primaries
Or control the lifeblood leaking out of the Strait of Hormuz.
When the powerful and powerless fought in-between
The dejected and all too often ignored.
When the powered halogen lights flooded prison yards of
Wrongly convicted and murderously in need of help.
When the San Francisco clubs lit up with muzzle flash
And the dancers lay weeping in their blood.
When the schools became places to duck and cover
Or learn to trip a friend when running from a gun.
When parkland high became a manufacturing ground
For casings, tears, and candlelight vigils.
When the American dream came combo packaged
And supersized with obesity and unemployment.
When the education of the youth became about
The profit margin in a spreadsheet full of debt.
When the sun sets in the smoke filled horizons
And sleepless rest settles on the western front.
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 1:16 AM UTC
I have no energy left but for revolt — the revolt of the one
who abandons the climb, turns his back, and goes
back down the hill toward the water.
The pinstriped priests sharpen the horn between their legs,
The better to carve the granite commandments
that drag me to the precipice’s edge with a pill for my mouth,
a hand for my pocket, and a push for my back.
I have fed at the supersized trough, striven to become
a hallmark of standardized measurement.
But I do not want to be fed by those factory corpses
who sit like workers in cubicles, unmoving and covered
to their hips in excrement and despair.
I do not want to work in a box turning time into regret and obedience into tears.
I do not want to be informed by the chyron streams
that feed the wells of desolation and ignorance.
I do not want to be a cog of an economy that fills the fountains
of palaces with the blood of innocence; where investment is a tout sheet
that dissolves into electrons as the getaway limousine races toward the mansion.
The sheer and final exhaustion of the rebel is his last and only triumph:
he drops the knife of his cause, gently lowers the stiffening body
of his holy purpose into the receptive dust, clears aside
a few stony pieces of the rubble, and kneels in submission
to the earth and all its ownerless teeming beauty.
For then he knows: it is I, too, like these others, who have walked among the dead.
Then he leaves his climbing body there, and turns again, back toward the water.
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 9:22 PM UTC
Dear October,
Bathing me in a full moon
Supersized and the colour of
McDonald's cheese.
Bright through the thick curtains
Of my bedroom, where I rest in
Sober solitude.
A dim red, even through heavy
Eyelids.
Dear October, breathe your faintly
Frosted scents through my open
Window, leave my stellar
Night light on.
I need no fingertips caressing my
Face goodnight.
I have friends like little planets.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
When people call me fun sized I don't know what to say.
Like if I was another size the fun would go away?
Some of my friends call me Nano, meaning very very small
A name I got in middle school and actually don’t mind at all
But this is because I own it and find it quite original
Unlike the normal comments that really aren’t forgivable
They say good things come in small packages but how can I know that’s true
When the world is full of big macs, and supersized taboos
Small things are always quiet, in corners or on display
I don’t want that fate for me, I’d rather be in the way
Making change is hard to do when adorable is your namesake
I’m activating feminist mode and trying to make an earthquake
No I don’t want to be your armrest, yes I’m tall enough for that ride
I’ll kick your *** at limbo, just watch me and abide
I used to wear high heels, to fit in with the crowd
Until a friend my size told me to embrace it and be proud
Now I wear flat shoes and am comfortable all the time
So when I’m kicking *** I can pivot on a dime
Sometimes my legs are tired from the height I’m trying to personify
So if you ask if I want a piggy back…that’s actually one thing I won’t deny
I like seeing it from your point of view even if it’s jaded
I do wish you could see it from mine though and find why my ideals have faded
“You’re cute when you're angry” they say, just like it's a compliment
But how would you feel if your emotions were reduced to words that aren't dominant?
When you grow up in a world where cute is your middle name
You don’t trust the ones that call you beautiful but who really is to blame?
Let alone if you ever hear **** being said in your direction
Have you ever heard of a man getting a cute ********
I’m ready for a shift and I can feel it in my bones
They’re aching to dance a new routine, with Beyonce in my headphones
Maybe that means they’re catching up, it’s about time for my growth spurt
After a life of half pint, shrimp and short stuff, watch as I convert
12/01/2016 Amanda Powell
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
he went into national service
high on hope and his future;
I could see it in his eyes,
and his supersized smile,
and when he shook my hands
I felt it too...
my brother had grand dreams
filled with scholarly books, hard work
and college degrees
earned overseas;
"I'll send back photographs,"
he said
and the image of his happy face
stuck with me
they didn't show it,
what was left of it,
at the funeral
they couldn't...
according to the coroner,
and the fishes in the lake
where his body was found...
~ P
(7/20/2013)
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 11:07 PM UTC
There is a way out east,
like no other,
where the trees curl up with a cloudy blanket
over the, endless waterfall of tar and gravel,
and parallel lines clearly converge
but, where is so unclear.
We don’t eat people on the road, Oh friend of
restless career searching and creating,
rather, the space between what is right and wrong
is traveled.
Traveled with cars
Traveled with blistery sun feet
Traveled with lonely wait hearts, and dreary friends
that change, warp, and fuel some new premise
Traveled with testing motor bikes, and soft tires
Traveled by bridges, and communist toll gates
Traveled by homeless men who live, breath, and eat in boxes all day,
and never see the second light.
It’s not clockwork.
we’ve taped over ever turning menace, and stopped all the
discriminating gears from turning in the night
where hopeless humans rust away in the clanking of all hours.
Stop,
and perk your ears friends, if it is the turning you wish
listen to the movement of the earth,
and the heartbeat of the trees,
extract wisdom from the hills we like to blast through,
and certainly climb on the rocks as you do.
Listen to the contact of beer mugs
while you drink in all the stories of travelers
your friends.
Listen to the droned out motors of the many happenings of the highway
and know you are not alone.
But, to be alone,
oh, to be alone:
it’s a gift in a way.
But, eventually, all people need an activity close to that
of eating one another,
where we can dine with droogs, and experienced veterans,
kiss soft-toothed girls in the light of a hometown moon,
and pray for glass-faced news.
This huge, supersized, magnetized, kind-loving world
keeps turning:
by sphere, by map, by heart
I swear to you, travel the distance between
all things right and wrong.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
If giving you the stars
Would put the sparkle in your eyes
I'd build a giant staircase
And make it supersized
If giving you the moon
Would put the brightness in your smile
Even if it took me forever
It would all be worthwhile
Because baby, your my diamond
That has beauty inside and out
I see all of your sadness
When your head is full of self doubt
Your not aware of your worth
And think that you belong on the floor
And that, my darling, eats away at my core
If giving you the clouds
Would make you believe in yourself
Id swap everything I own
Including my health
If giving you my love
Would give you confidence again
That's a battle that's already won
I'd give you the earth, all of space
And everything surrounding the sun
(C) Julie Murphy 2018
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 7:31 PM UTC
studious skinny scruffy scribe
Scathing, scolding, screaming,
scorning, searing, sniggering,
sociopathic sarin soaked skewed
squirt, sputtering, squawking, sleepily
staggering, stabbing, swaggering
sweltering sadistic, sarcastic,
savage, systemically systematically
stigmatized, supersized saber sharp
schick shaving, shunned, sabotaged,
scarred, scorched, smote, sanguine,
stippled, speckled schizophrenic
sensibility, spurring, seething,
somewhat stultified, sophisticated,
spellbound spirited scabrous
schlemiel schlemazel, stenciled,
sundered sniveling sanguine storied
snakebitten sojourning ********
skeptical shoddy sophomoric
screwball, subtly sagacious,
stunted, sclerotic, scrappily
shuffling short, Shylock
styled sideburns Semite,
sainted Shasta sipping
shriveled sad sack,
sullenly syncopated, synthesized,
slobbering sybaritic, scruffy
sheepish sketchy scalawag,
Socratically scrutinizing, seizure
stricken, stoically sneezing,
shamed Skidrow skeezer, shifty,
sweaty, sham shaman,
supremely spidery, schmaltzy,
sylan seeking subsidized succor,
self shuttered, sequestered,
sidelined, shiftless, shabby,
semantically snazzy, soldiering,
shrieking, skulking, somber,
stooping, Segway scootering,
schmart spendthrift, Swahili
speaking, straitlaced, streamlined,
spongebobbing, sandal shod
sealegs, squarepants sporting
spectacles, sedate, sensate,
sentient, ship shaped,
shanghaied, salubrious,
slithering, snakish, stuttering,
sluggish, smashface scarred,
sober, solitary, sangfroid
skidamarink singing, Shamokin
speaking scrivener, scuzzy,
spunky, starved, submissively
suicidal, sunburned,
salaried shuffling senescent
snoutish soundcloud shutterflying
snapchatting schnorrer.
Sep 1, 2019
Sep 1, 2019 at 4:32 PM UTC
No matter what distressing times I face,
When storms and rains replace the sunny days,
When things I counted on fail to sustain me,
There’s nothing we can’t handle,
When you are with me.
If those I thought were friends act more like foes,
If I start to lose the things I hold really close,
I know you'll listen,
You'll hear,
You'll love me and will always be near.
When my earthly world dissolves before my eyes,
When problems seem too great, overwhelming and supersized,
Your hand will be upon me and your Spirit will constantly remind me,
Great is your word concerning me.
It’s so comforting, to realize,
You’ll always be my King, my Lord, my trusted Friend,
To share my burdens, worries, and my cares,
You'll love me and support me to the very end.
#Angiepraise
Jul 19, 2020
Jul 19, 2020 at 7:18 AM UTC
It was a lovely service
And afterwards all her friends
Got up and said something
Even those **** Theron’s Twins
Who could hardly finish because
They were crying the whole time
Carly had left me two notes
‘One to read upon my death
‘One to read after everyone has spoken
The first was ‘Eric, please don’t let sadness rule over my funeral, be the last to speak, and say something funny please, then open the last note.’
I did
Told the crowd how we snuck into
That one concert in Dallas
With ***** in water bottles
and how we ran the hallways
Of our senior year
I looked out at the crowd and
Everyone stopped crying
And laughed at the thought
I opened the last note
And you left us
A $100 McDonalds Gift Card
‘Go eat burgers and fries!’
You said.
And everyone started crying again
Including those ******
Theron’s twins
‘We should donate it to her favorite charity...give it to the homeless...it’s not right ...’
they all said.
Except I already had a #1 Supersized in my mind.
With a Dr Pepper
‘Whydontwejustdowhatsheaskedustodo?’
AndwhenIgothome Icriedforanhourstraight
Carly would’ve hated the
Selfie Generation
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
Anti-social media mediates the need for society,
While the depression is lifted by the medicines of mediocre and momentary remedies of redemption,
Redemptions of self-loathing lack-lustre lives,
Unloved, unloved by the living-deceased - decreased and destitute,
Desperate for a split-second for not second guessing,
Regrets of regressed memories rotting the underside of projected fantasies - phantoms that haunt the ugly truth called reality,
Botched , embarrassing bodies of ordinary mundane ,
Enhanced, supersized, edited and beautified,
Ready for the masked and palletable digestion,
Gorgeous vulnerability, carefree equality... Cropped...deleted.
Friends replace friendships,
Likes replace love,
The future is bleak, blocked, its status: it's complicated.
By Red
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 5:43 PM UTC