"surfer" poems
the extermination of the straight white male
soon we will be gone and the remainder carried over into zoos for
“safekeeping,” our DNA and ***** harvested for science purposes
you will be pitched advertisements
send $ to San Diego Zoo so they can save the few remaining
white rhinos (which they neglect to mention are in preserves in Kenya and the Sudan, but send $$ a way)
and the last three straight white guys
(surfer, techie, and an aborigine)
to preserve the species so the world can modify their cells
to stop sexism, racism and other male diseases
gonna maybe mate them with the rhinos,
which will be expensive cause of all the rhinoplasty,
so send me some
money, money, money
yup
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
I come from New Orleans where the swingers hook up with the singers, and the boxes have a person inside who speak to you through a thick horizontal slot in the door. You come from Minnesota where the most aggressive sentence is “Hi, how are you” and you’ve attended church every Sunday of your life, even though you don’t really believe in god.
We came to the West to skate with the surfer junkies. But then the harbors got bombed and we moved out East to see the hipsters and the artists beggin on the streets. We went to the South with the racists and bigots were dying for a good show. We moved up North to escape from the 70s, and with the 80s on the rise we figured we’d best stay away.
The 70s were rockin’ with **** and LSD in parks and concerts, and on benches on the streets. The smoke in the air was everywhere, from the slums in Wisconsin to the cities of Dallas. Even the poor were lost in the haze.
When the 80s arrived with Rock ‘n’ Roll and techno beats from windowsills upstairs. The music was groovin’ and the ladies were fine. We saw billboards of our names in neon orange lights. The *** was replaced by coke, and the LSD with ****** singing and swinging with delight in our eyes.
When the AIDS broke out we were sick in our beds listening to Pink Floyd and Elton John, and still we were singing. The 70s got us high while the 80s made us die
We lived through wars in Vietnam, and Korea; we fought back the communists with red ink on our hands. We broke down the door into China and got them to arrive in the present and join the world. Although their chairman sits on a chair of lies he leads them with an angry fist in the air pumping “three cheers for Mao”. “Three cheers for Mao”.
When the Soviets launched themselves to the moon we responded with our money and flashed our shiny new machinery in their faces. We marked our territory and claimed triumphantly that “We’re the best”. And we launched our war nukes and pinned them into intimidation. Then the Cubans sought revenge for the death of the Pigs on their Bay. With rifles in hand we stormed the beach and unearthed Castro and his regime.
With our beds soaked in blood, and our dreams covered with fog, hand in hand we lay. We recalled the dances in the backs of old Cafes where the passwords were as simple as three quick knocks and two slow ones. We remembered the guns that pierced the heavenly chorus for the negros in the south. And we thought about the music of the 70s and the death in the 80s and I thought about you for a minute more.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 4:29 PM UTC
if i was a girl i wouldn’t shave i’d be a tomboy ballerina with upper body muscles maybe a **** or surfer girl smell a little subtle i’d be tough learn to take a punch but i’d also be fragile sensitive intelligent i’d dress down like female ducks gray beige brown yet wear thongs boots bikinis heals girl stuff if i was a girl i’d be freaked out by ************ and even more freaked out by menopause depressed i lost my wetness if i was a girl i’d flash *** crotch drive boys wild be a complete nymphomaniac **** until i found the right guy he’d be strong gentle patient caring with a cute ***** i don’t care how big if i was a girl i’d learn to give blow jobs really good acquire a taste for ***** and play that skill as my trump card if i was a girl i’d find a job roll up my sleeves be a hard worker impress my managers become a manager quit i would find another type of work maybe a writer painter if i was a girl i wouldn’t compete with men i’d simply be more creative smarter if i was a girl i’d want to give birth as scary profound as that might be i’d want to be a mom a nurturing loving attentive mom i’d garden cook sew clean stand by my man my children devoted to home and hearth if i was a girl i’d cry a lot but not in front of anyone if i was a girl i wouldn’t want to become an old woman surrounded by other old women taking care of sick old men or no old men if i was a girl i’d want to die instantly in an accident or in bed reaching ****** age 82 if i was a girl
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 7:37 AM UTC
It hurts when your made up of naked love
your heart tied in fake smiles and lies,
beat
beat
you up
Sicken with desire trying to find a doctor,
who'll make it all right.
he'll tune you up
fixed new threads
that make you wet
Reflections of winners masks the regret,
who will guide this ship?
My sails feel like they're ripped
but to be honest
my spring is kind
of sprung
I am a monster,
a surfer girl
on salty seas.
nervous when the sun ends.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:01 PM UTC
Little surfer girl
Framed by the sun and waves and sand
Sun-kissed skin
Slender muscles
On display for her captive audience
Pulse in sync
With the steady music
Of the shore's breathing
Attracting the spray and roar
Of almighty Poseidon
Lithe body
Gliding on the water
Like how she has
Implacably skipped and splashed
Over the breaking hearts
Of so many who have pined after her
I need but a glance
To invite me
To paddle out and see
If I can conquer her waves.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
mean beam bottom ***** without reluctance.
\\ air above \\
since forever baby boy: since forever liquid sparkler.
he has sense
& peanut butter jelly geography to his page.
his romance is of the west.
his eyes are of dandelions kicked & to the wind.
he moves like ancient turtle migration.
reaches feet to sidewalk \\ sand to depths \\ ride \\
night:
velcro-tightened mind withstanding.
party lights, ***** willows, retro punch, he
is orpheus descending: with all the elements positioned just so.
\\ jellyfish electric \\
he says he likes the loneliness.
he says it’s the water.
& so he moves \\ wills himself into the next measure.
liquid resolute bits.
so move \\ orca \\
curl of eye \\ so ride \\ black rollo wave \\
basilica \\ & \\
coral reaches below \\\\\
he likes to tell it, with warmed exaggeration.
slow-motion buffalo stampede. ride the railroads free & easy.
orange glowing bars of elsewhere. oscillating seal calls.
oily portland hipsters howling on the beach. those
juno cheeked rosy-red lips.
somewhere, sister getting married.
spring, summer, fall, winter, spring.
africa girl on a branch of a tree of a forest, overlooking elephant burial grounds.
color & white material:
plantations, gas stations, diners, & sharks.
this is the morning lunar \\
sweet blue beach of the old & awakening.
he crawls out & into her breaks.
her deep heights & bombora reef. the serotonin
functions twice, exposed between thin tissues of warm-blooded neurochemistry.
human, shown.
he is as a raw page, blank, yet
dipped \\
\\ so ride \\ bulbous waves of air mother agua \\
ride \\ &
\\ ride \\ &
brew by light these occurrences forever.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:41 AM UTC
Thank you Mr Lee, for helping us see.
There's more in your universes, than we could ever be.
Your imagination, was without limitation. The heroes you gave us, they really did save us.
You started with a dream, that turned into a team.
They are called the avengers, and they'll always be remembered.
Silver Surfer, Iron Man.
Captain Marvel, Spider Man.
Winter Soldier, Black Panther,
Deadpool, Gene and Logan too.
Titans, Red Skulls, Sabertooth.
Stones of power on the loose.
Rocket, Thor, Gamora, Groot.
You made them all and we thank you.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 9:30 PM UTC
He’s like the tide
A surfer must enjoy his ride
Dive in and swim, revering him
Forgetting what’s outside
His waves are wondrous, warm, enchanting
Adventure filled in all their crashing
The ocean though
Has rules you know, and those it cannot break
For as I try to fight the tide
I find it’s my mistake
No Siren’s Song
No tug along
Could change his constant wake
As good as it may feel to me
To bask amidst his splendor
His salty sea breath smothers me
Unable to surrender
He’s faithful as he’s always been
Unchanging, strong, and genuine
It’s me, you see
Too wild and free
To float in him forever
Does he love me?
I think so
But oceans know their bounds
So as I go beyond his flow
The follow earthly sounds
Perhaps he’d like to follow me
To soar the mountain peaks
To leave the sea, dance blissfully
With sunlight on his cheeks
Perhaps he would create with me
a world of our design
Alas he knows that sea is sea
And he can never follow
Does he love me?
I know so
Although he can’t come with me
To sandy shore, find earth’s galore
*** he is he – part of the sea
Entrapped by gravity
Sep 29, 2021
Sep 29, 2021 at 4:21 PM UTC
Angie works the alleys that reek of greasy sausages and ****
where beer-bellied men appear
and vanish into doorway varnish of invisible rooms,
spitting on their own doorsteps, stubby fingers
running over stained vests and wire wool guts.
Harry lives out yonder where plastic bags’ ballet shoes are made of glue;
he is sharing a hit
with a dreadlocked kid, just another invisible face,
a phantom-surfer nurse, to assist him in
chasing the ultimate high on highway number twenty-two.
Invisible, hairy hands hold her down; Angie has to swallow,
she can feel the pulsating vein
of a softening **** over her tongue and swollen lips –
she gives it a good old slap against her cheek,
grabs the package, and makes sure no one follows.
Harry’s clawing at a face in that place where reality floats
between the tip of the needle
and the desperate edge of chemical dependency -
his little angel taps him on the shoulder;
he turns around, and stabs her in the throat.
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 11:32 PM UTC
I am the lust of the universe
longing to know itself
I am the thoughts like a cascading stream
water pummeling the rock of my soul
molding, shaping, forming, conforming
I am the peace of the bamboo forest
a society of shoots
shades of green solitude
standing together, clunking hollow,
serene, transfixing parallel angles, mesmerizing
obscuring the gaze beyond, reflecting within
drops drip and fall with a shake
I am the child throwing sand into the ocean,
jumping from the rushing water
challenging fate with a raised fist and a laugh to do his worst
I am the dancer in the waves
lifted by the tides
pirouetting in the current
I am the red stone cliff on the sea shore
sovereign stratum carved
growing with green, lush yet hard
I am the buttressed black lava rock
standing in the water, remote and mysterious
accepting time and erosion, jagged
I am the new sun rising red
arising from the mountain mist swirling on the ocean
ascending from the clouded horizon
a grand illusion of motion, perception, the seer
I am the beach wood
fallen from the trees standing
as sentinels to the ebb and flow
laughing in silence with the wind and the sound of tides whooshing
I am the surfer
riding the energy of the earth
slicing across the liquid wall face
I am the flag of men
unifying and dividing
I am the sand welcoming water and feet
soft as creamy butter
I am the mother and the son
replenishing, trailing, following, playing, watching
sharing belly buttons
I am the butterfly gliding on the Kona wind
wandering immortal
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
Just because I'm from California
Doesn't mean I smoke ****
Doesn't mean I’m a surfer
And doesn't mean I am an actor
Just because I’m from California
Doesn't mean I’m an “air head”
Doesn't mean I go to the beach everyday
Doesn't mean I’m a crazy environmentalist
Just because I’m from California
Doesn't mean I eat avocados with everything
Doesn't mean I long board instead of drive
Doesn't mean I’m an actor
Just because I’m from California
Why do I have to smoke ****
What school is close enough to surf to?
Why do I have to go to the beach everyday?
I’m just like other Americans.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC
like the sea to the shore
embrace me
like waves to a surfer
dance with me
like tsunamis to the crust
crave for me
like rivers to waterfalls
save me
like typhoons to the wind
breathe me in
like a raindrop to the ocean
come home
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
Desperate plea escapes from inside
You're on the brink and I'm a surfer
Riding those residual waves back to shore
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 11:45 AM UTC
I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate...
circumcised: to purify spiritually
On the eighth day,
from my nativity,
circumcised,
as is the custom of my
wandering tribe.
marked thusly,
perma-identity carded,
thusly begins the path,
a pink-bricked road this one,
not to the Mighty Oz,
no phony curtain pulled aside,
where anyone goes to get
spiritual purification
for a price
Ah, you suspected something else,
something explicit,
not me~style,
give you honey,
road provisions,
come along for the observing his
clickety clackty clock
Ready?
For where we venture there is only
one exit,
And you are so not ready - I am who I am and I am
not ready too...
every line an enunciation,
every stanza an annunciation,
Angel Gabriel, a solo duo, unlike
Beyoncé and Jesus
we be on our way to any kind of purity,
poetry can buy
who knows what awaits us,
could be catholic, universal,
even the uncircumcised
get a chance to enunciate.
let me offer a clarification.
proclamations and sensations,
conditions and exploitations,
brown eyed girls, and surfer boys,
functions and malfunctions too,
abbreviations or adjudications,
conjugations in the congregation,
exhumation, the final excommunication,
I shun none,
I enunciate this:
false starts and junction boxes,
too many so so tired,
when can I lay down my shovel
and cease the decreasing deceasing of the body
this day nears complete,
and soon to eat
the last meal,
and still I ask
when can I lay down my shovel,
when will purity be mine,
my spirit's circumstances
repeat the commercial,
I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate...
forgive my abstrusion,
my metaphors always offer perfect laxity,
choose the interpretation that pleases most
and my drift is toward the end of days,
when will my brow be a motif of
anointment and crowning head birth?
This is my Enunciation.
I cannot yet lay down the shovel,
and this writ is as of yet, still uncircumcised -
completely incomplete, it will be finished
when the spirit says
you are the purity,
the trinity of two hands holding two others holding two others holding two others and the chain is perfect because
it is broken perfectly, a forever repetitive respective handle with care
process
Forgive my visionary words that
give little clarity,
so summary due you,
This is my
Pronoun citation
I am
I am circumcised, therefore, I enunciate
on my way to the purity of spirit.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
Wisconsin, fine--
We sit on state lines.
Across the street, Rodeo Drive.
Move a little bit
and East L.A. makes you feel alive.
Go to the diner
where the mermaids wear aprons
and hold out menus like personal stock.
Where the surfer-rama drama in the diner deep
allows them to let go of those they keep.
And you and me and those we love,
keep us finite, because why not.
I could tell you how to eat your waffles
if you will be the spoon that stirs my coffee.
Listen to me,
"Rachel, there's no one, right now,
that I'd rather sit and eat breakfast with than you.
And if it doesn't work out,
and we choke on our meals, that's fine.
I just want to try when I'm with you."
We exchange glances
and I'm sure, then,
that I adore the aplomb,
for your smile leads myself
into believing and being more.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
Gonna take my dial from five-fifty
to a hundred and eight miles an hour
The radio surfer
radio radio
radio surfer
radio radio
radio surfer
radio radio
radio surfer
radio radio
radio surfer
radio radio
radio surfer
radio radio
Gonna move my dial on the radio
Surf it
See what pleasures I can find
Surf it
Look for something on the radio
Surf it
It's always changing all the time
A middle-aged man with a radio
Can feel like a kid sometimes
Bringing back memories of when I was a kid
Staying up late to get more stations
I could listen to baseball from Missouri
Or alien stories from K L Kooky
It made me feel "what a great nation"
An idea improved by innovation
I can move my dial anywhere I want
Go up or down for a different spot
Maybe tune in to a song or two
And then sports or news, or baby you choose
Or a Spanish station that rocks the nation
With the craziest sounds that cause vibrations
Could be variety or a southern country jamboree
AM or FM, to me it's all heaven
Just to be surfin' the stations I'm searchin'
Cruising for blues or a song that is new
Maybe I'll search for religion or something
Or talk to a sports nut who's a news ******
I can go classic or talk of the town
Listen to jazz or the new rap in town
All kinds of rock, RB, rhythm and blues
Maybe the standards, pop, just what is new
Anytime, anywhere, anyway too
That's what I like about radio, you
Radio surfer
surfer surfer
Radio surfer
surfer surfer
Radio surfer
surfer surfer
Radio surfer
surfer surfer
Radio surfer
surfer surfer
Radio surfer now!
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
Lifetimes
She was mine
Lost and devine
Unearthing sublime
Inside
All the time
Our love was nuclear
And is
Lovers, foes and friends
My student
My pride
My weakness
My place to hide
The inevitable slide
Every time
I won’t sign to realize
It’s not mine
To decide
I cannot get her
To the other side
Despite my pride
And plans I devise
She rides out
On the morning tide
Everyday
Without me
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 5:23 PM UTC
You're the cement on which I walk
and the language that I talk.
You're the chalk in the dark tunnels
and the door on which I knock.
You're my summer breeze
and my winter solstice.
You're the smile on my face
and my depression soulless.
You're an empty canvas
And I'm A broken paintbrush
You're waves crashing against the shore
and I'm an impatient surfer real bored.
You couldn't care less
and I sacrificed more.
I lost three loves to you
and I love you squared.
I love you, and it's not fair
And you're my everything anywhere.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 6:25 AM UTC
I drift around the shores of cyber space
looking for that big wave
I am known as the Imprinter
the surfer without a board
I play with havoc as hard as hell
do dark to hide I am from glorious Heaven
so think me nice and rather cool
for I am the surfer without a board
I am, a mirror in times fabric
a telly tally time bomb
some know me as Lord
but I like, the surfer without a board
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
The morning rain
incessantly taps my window
in hope of response.
It calls me down to frosted beaches
with tarnished rocks and angry seas.
There lays the peace my soul desires,
amongst the waves my heart once claimed as home.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 4:31 AM UTC
“i’ll always choose him”
her voice rolled like thunder
the words struck me like lightning
the raindrops falling down my face
as i watch the wind carry my love away.
it becomes too much to bare
i become a storm cellar, attempting to lock my emotions away.
but the storm is too much,
my love for her consumes me like a surfer in the middle of a hurricane.
i don’t know how to control it.
like the waves my mind is slowly crashing
i’m scared, lost, and confused.
i’m in the middle of nowhere, yet i still scream for help.
somehow i see her and we lock eyes.
she becomes a tornado as she wraps me up,
only to leave me worse then when she found me.
for some reason i can’t convince myself to leave her.
i hold on to the fact that after every storm there’s still a rainbow.
i just wonder if it’ll be you.
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 4:29 PM UTC
there was a little turtle and he loved the sea
and a surfing champ he just long to be
riding on the waves on his little board
and be a surfing champ that was his reward
he bought himself a board and surfing suit
now he was a surfer and he looked so cute
went down to the beach to the local race
standing at the start turtle took his place
he took the biggest wave the biggest he could find
jumped on to his board and left them all behind
turtle was the winner his dream it had come true
now he was the champ just like he wanted to
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
I love you like...
The moment that I realize I have two hours left and find out I didn't oversleep
The Anticipation of telling beautiful surprises that are so challenging to keep
The few seconds before we finally jump from a cliff that is just a little too steep
The tears that bleed from my eyes out of joy, and aren't accompanied by a weep
An uncontrollable smile after watching a puppy take it's very first spirited leap
The freedom I feel from escaping the herd removing ourselves from the sheep
The optimistic first steps of a child's feet standing up to life"s broom"s first sweep
The necessary silence rarely shared from a reflecting gaze piercing ever so deep
I think of you...when...
The pain finally doesn"t hurt
I wear my one favorite shirt
The Perfect word is finally blurt
Absolutely nothing left to exert
Finished work covered in dirt
The wind blows up your skirt
Organically we begin to flirt
Arrived Just in time for dessert
I need you like...
A runner needs his feet
A writer needs a pen
A song needs a beat
A rooster needs a hen
The cold needs the heat
The military needs men
A carnivore needs meat
A monk needs his zen
I miss you like...
A plant wilting from a drought
A dog laying by his owner"s grave
Silence misses a necessary shout
Hibernating bears without their cave
A champion boxer"s very last bout
An injured surfer watching a wave
An old man"s window looking out
Addiction misses his best friend crave
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
A pearl waits indeed,
albeit of exceptional beauty...
No matter how rare or how valuable,
a pearl waits indeed.
A pearl waits indeed,
for the bravest of divers...
No matter how long or how far,
to swim deep for her historical harvest.
A pearl waits indeed,
albeit of celebrated rarity...
No matter how treacherous the ocean,
a pearl stays still and sits pretty.
A pearl waits indeed,
in the embrace of the sea...
No matter how tumultuous the waves get,
a pearl waits indeed...
A pearl waits...
to be worn as a necklace
or earrings by a poet.
A poet who also refers to herself as a pearl.
A poet so foolishly comparing herself.
But then again, she's not so wrong.
Asking questions to the sky before bed.
Will you pick me up and take me away
from this seabed of moss and loss?
Will you harvest me from the vast ocean
and its mass of loneliness?
A pearl waits...
to be held, touch and kissed by the fingers
of a brave diver, of a worthy surfer...
Or simply by a simple island boy,
whose heart is that of a lion's
and whose hands are able...
Apr 30, 2024
Apr 30, 2024 at 4:15 AM UTC