"swap" poems
The sun set at its appointed time, 438pm - setting a race towards the end.
Drinks were drunk,
Emotions were triumphed, kisses were exchanged and the moon was flying high.
A swap of fluid and hands were held - the countdown began and the ball it fell.
A kiss goodnight, a sad goodbye, then relief and empty bed, a welcomed sight.
A slow progression towards the rising and at 721am it happened without a warning.
A reset of the timer - from 12/31 to 01/01.
Time to start again and try to enjoy the time that will come.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
If you'd been here
When I was young,
You'd not forget
What we'd have done.
We'd climb roofs,
Jump in the river,
****** neighbour's pears,
Then skedaddle,
Laughing with sweat-matted hair,
Wiping off those grown-up cares.
We'd bumper-jump in four inch snow,
And never let our parents know.
Oh, such fun we two would do,
If I could stay as young as you.
We'd skate and bike,
Play street ball,
Act up in school,
Stand in the hall;
We'd hike with jars
Along country brooks,
Read and trade
Our comic books.
Lie in the sand,
Burn in the sun,
Forgetting it was time for home.
We'd never tire of our treats,
And often we'd forget to eat
Because we're having all our fun:
If you'd been here when I was young.
We'd play Tag and Red Rover,
Flags and Chase,
Then have sleep-overs.
We'd swap tomorrow
For daily pearls,
Then swap each other
For pretty girls.
We'd be up to our shenanigans,
Sleep the sleep,
Then start again.
This is the way
We'd have our fun,
If you'd been here
When I was young.
But now you're here,
And I'm much older,
The things we'd do
You'll do with others;
But when you need a boost to climb,
This old man has a shoulder.
Yes,
I'll sure have lots of fun,
For you're here now.
That keeps me young.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 8:55 AM UTC
09/17/14 - 1:15 am
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** how about you take shots off my stomach and bite my lip
**** "buying me pizza and touching my butt"drip ***** down my ******* and pull my hair
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** cuddle with me and listen to depeche mode or pink floyd or the smiths
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** let me read books to you as you fall asleep on my lap
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** take me out to dinner and I don't mean somewhere fancy, hell take me to an old run down diner in the middle of nowhere and then roam the streets with me at an outdoor swap meet
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** bake cupcakes with me on a Saturday evening and watch a bunch our favorite movies
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** take me on a Ferris wheel my second favorite place in the world and look at the way the moon wakes up with me
**** "buying me pizza and touching my **** take me to a rooftop and tell me your greatest fears. Tell me exactly who you are, if you haven't already.i promise I'll remember. I won't be like your dad and forget your birthday. I won't be like your late sister who forgot to say "I love you" on her way out the door that one evening. I won't be like one of those people who forgot to tell how important you are everyday. But I will be your friend when you need it. You're conscience when your too strung out on all the wrong types of right. You're lover when all you want to do is too spoon so you don't feel lost tonight. You're shoulder to cry on when something goes terribly wrong. All I ask of you is
that you do not, "buy me pizza and touch my ****
v.m
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
There was a girl
I used to swap paperbacks
and spit with, once
I fixed her wiper blades,
I remember the soft dead wings
on the windshield, pretty
as you please
She was alone in her shoes
listening to something
that kept getting darker
and glowing like morning
on the oil spilled under her truck,
she was drifting through
the rosewater of her soft red hair
She only wanted to be rolling
off a swollen river, sliding
out of a clean slip, turning
over in a deep sleep, trailing
a shimmering thread, hiding
under a pile of wet leaves
Then there she was sailing
in her river of blood, going
white and smelling like smoke
from a struck match behind
closed blinds on a ceramic floor,
a white blouse red as a sharp knife
collecting the light of mourning.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 7:19 AM UTC
Maniacal thugs
Swap juices with sweet angels
On a moonless night.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 9:15 PM UTC
Picture the scene...
Emo punk kid, on a paper round.
Picture the scene, Emo punk kid is suicidal.
Picture the scene, creepy customer.
Weeks pass.
Picture the scene, it goes too far.
Emo punk kid pushes it and tells someone.
Picture the scene, police involved.
Picture the scene, emo punk kid attempts suicide.
Picture the scene emo punk kid has exams.
Emo punk kid falls asleep in his geography exam.
Emo punk kid has results day.
Geography teacher is there.
When emo punk kid gets told he should have done better, his world dies.
When he is told he should have gotten over it before the exams he gets angry.
When he gets told to move on he grabs a rope.
When emo punk kid's girlfriend left him, the rope made a noose.
When emo punk kid was told today that it doesn't matter that he was the victim of ****** abuse
Picture the scene, geography tomorrow morning, a rope and a stuck up fool.
Picture the scene, no more geography teacher. No more emo punk kid. No more girlfriend.
Picture the scene, now swap with emo punk kid and end it how you would.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC
•□• Can't shake this mist •□•
Draggin' paged swords down my stomach,
Split my opal skin
wide open
▪ccrack▪
find a sunset gushing out
¤twist¤
can't swap the dead sea
and the larkstone coffin
in my cherry-blossom throat
°scatter°
All these razor droplets
'◇quiver,◇'
bronze scraping at my jawline
/|\groan/|\
And look yonder---
a lonely crow
whispered louder than thunder
'''scratch'''
•□• Can't shake this mist •□•
....
Come back to haunt me,
but my poetry already has me
six feet under.
¥ Demons ¥
€ squirm €
in
the
₩ Soil. ₩
"We aren't any different now, are we?"*
.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
I wonder what it would be like if the tables were turned
You could have all the knowledge that I’ve learned
But hurt in a way that wasn’t earned
Swap you’re heart for one that yearns
I wonder if you hurt like the ones who are alone
The ones they would disown
A reality you can’t postpone
All the more real when you are grown
I wonder if you spent a day ignored
Feeling like who you are just makes them bored
Everyday leaving you floored
Alone in the world
Would you stand up for yourself
Or hide behind a smile
What is easier?
Facing your fears or letting the pain compile
Or you could just give up
Not give yourself another day
But that’s no solution
There has to be a better way
Some might pray
Some might run away
But you can choose to love yourself anyway
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 7:59 AM UTC
This generation is the selfie nation,
Taking pictures of the dying, digitization,
This generation is the generic nation,
Cancelling history and subjects, Salvation,
This generation is the death nation,
Being overweight is healthy, becoming purgation,
This generation is the stronger nation,
Deeming everything offensive, becoming manipulation,
This generation is the hateful nation,
Hating the own agnations,
This gerenation is the end nation,
Pushing and pushing, damnation,
This generation is the promoting nation,
Gender Swap, *** paedophilia, pushing all these, Arbitration.
This genernation is the activism nation,
Save the Earth, making change that still damages the Earth, ruination.
This generation is the we won't do this nation,
Won't go to war to fight for others, pure negation,
This generation is the nation,
The eldery generation regrets fighting for their foundation,
This generation is the Anti-Homosexuality nation,
That still disowns there child for there sexuaility, Affirmation,
This generation who is fighting LGBTQ Rights Nation,
Hating those who refuse to date the same *** hating religion, so **** condamnation.
This generation scream Black Lives Matter Nation,
Reducing Police Brutality, improving lot more crimes, congratulation,
This generation fighting for women right nation,
Taking away male rights, instead of alterations and collaborations.
This generation is the older nation,
Bullying, lies and caring nation, Allocation,
This generation is the end nation,
Death filtration of the world's creation.
This generation buid this nation,
They have to learn to live with the cermation.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 10:11 AM UTC
I'm going out and get something.
I don't know what.
I don't care.
Whatever's out there, I'm going to get it.
Look in those shop windows at boxes
and boxes of Reeboks and Nikes
to make me fly through the air
like Michael Jordan
like Magic.
While I'm up there, I see Spike Lee.
Looks like he's flying too
straight through the glass
that separates me
from the virtual reality
I watch everyday on TV.
I know the difference between
what it is and what it isn't.
Just because I can't touch it
doesn't mean it isn't real.
All I have to do is smash the screen,
reach in and take what I want.
Break out of prison.
South Central homey's newly risen
from the night of living dead,
but this time he lives,
he gets to give the zombies
a taste of their own medicine.
Open wide and let me in,
or else I'll set your world on fire,
but you pretend that you don't hear.
You haven't heard the word is coming down
like the hammer of the gun
of this black son, locked out of this big house,
while ***** looks out the window and sees only smoke.
***** doesn't see anything else,
not because he can't,
but because he won't.
He'd rather hear me talking about mo' money,
mo' honeys and gold chains
and see me carrying my favorite things
from looted stores
than admit that underneath my Raider's cap,
the aftermath is staring back
unblinking through the camera's lens,
courtesy of CNN,
my arms loaded with boxes of shoes
that I will sell at the swap meet
to make a few cents on the declining dollar.
And if I destroy myself
and my neighborhood
"ain't nobody's business, if I do,"
but the police are knocking hard
at my door
and before I can open it,
they break it down
and drag me in the yard.
They take me in to be processed and charged,
to await trial,
while Americans forget
the day the wealth finally trickled down
to the rest of us.
5.2k
[PART ONE]
xeroxed, RT'd and plagiarized
so many times on so many blogs
tween blogs to republican blogs
to blogs in Russia and
blogs no one ever scrolls though...
original content is prey
but I have a warning for they:
overrated, over-shared
content aggregators beware
the lines you swap can
rot and ware
the World Wide Web
does not care.
[PART TWO]
original content
original contests
original continent
original controversy
original coordination between strangers
original calvary riding their connection into the battlefield of internet memes; creating nothing and sharing everything
[COMMENTARY]
original nothing, nowhere, nobody except facebook "Funny Vidoes!" & "Cool Quotes!". 'Like' pages whose sole originality lies within their own existence but nothing they share. They steal from the rest of the web and re-post what they find for out-of-the-loop troglodytes; often done so in inferior context and with no perspective. The 'refried beans' phenomenon, I call it. I find it fitting because 'refried beans' are a double misnomer. The name comes from 'frijoles refritos' - which means 'well-fried' not 'refried'. They are also never traditionally fried more than once. Yet the name sticks, it gets repeated, it gets re-shared and now that's what they are: refried beans. This phenomenon is why I believe art and all original content eventually become so over-shared and overrated that it's no longer interesting but irritating. These three parts of the poem "Original Content" are separated in abstract authorial presentation. The author has clearly expressed his dislike for the disjunct un-imagination of the internet and presents it as such.
[PART THREE]
original authors losing control of their audiences who believe they are the creators and the artist's art is somewhat shareable
original miscommunication between web 1.0 and web 2.0 reality
original alphabet they use to type on their keyboards
original grammar they learned in school
original money their gov't printed
original content they re-post
original refried beans
original content
orginal contet
ogrinal cotent
ognal ctt
oc
.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
I feel as if my head is sliding off my neck like ice cream melting down the cone. I am a witch melting, shrinking smaller as my spine stacks horizontally like shiplap. My body has been refurbished into a pinball machine. Something so tiny as a silver ball destroys so much. It bullets through my body, shooting off like Cuban missiles. I feel the turmoil and chaos seeping through the gutters of this old home of bones. It's like spilled oil sludging through my blood vessels or rats scattering through a sewer, nibbling and feasting away on these muscles of mine until they are frayed like gnawed-on cable wires. At odd hours of the night when time is propelled by the safe travels of breath (that weave in and out like Victorians at a ball) from sleepy children who have yet been touched by monsters or nymphs, whereas each of my breaths steer Odysseus's weather-beaten boat through ten years of treachery. My heavy, melting head slowly sloping like clay off a bust makes its home on my dingy pillow as I lay on a prison bed with cold shackles around my ankles that make my bones shatter into a mosaic as if that could shrink my ankles so I can slip out. I feel like a chained hawk at these hours of the night when I just want to fly until I screech to a halt and flail over the cliff that waterfalls into the ends of the universe. I'd be reluctant at first, perhaps, but what other escape does one have other than to make an autopsist's Y-incision on one's body, then slip out like a hermit crab freeing himself from his heavy shell? Embarking onto a new dimension where there's hope for a radical swap of atoms that don't shape a crippled, deteriorating human is the only choice when you want to live a life other than what you were cursed with. May we then find peace and live as naked souls bearing no heavy shells.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 4:53 AM UTC
A summer of discontent
Uprooted families swap a bombed house for tent.
A summer of disbelief.
Acts of terror but where is the relief?
A summer of turmoil.
Mass migration not safe on home soil.
A summer of confusion.
Gangs, traffickers, corruption collusion.
A summer of down trodden flowers.
The tears we shed from the sins of powers.
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
Screaming
What's the use----??
Flower of the Graces
"The Tenth Muse"
"Everyday Use It"
The earth revolves
Around the sun
Minerals Love it
Drink it vitamin C
Mass of energy A-B-C
The gravity every day
We cannot use it_
Became the play money
Copied tainted not the
Bee's honey here's
The everyday economy
One lick of hope the
envelope not much
company
Everyday- Einsteins
Big profit scope
The brainstorm Reign
All signs detour cabin
Choo Choo train caboose
You nailed it the moose
One footloose
The one-man show
Two women know
The odds to their
advantage
Someone is the traitor
Mom is the Tailor
The zigzag lines
Crazy cat felines
"That's It" punctuality,
Use your capability
"Technet Technology"
take a walk favorite park
Shiba Inu rollover
The bad ones the
Millionaires homes
flip over the do
or dare
We cannot pay
NYC token fare
Words are our power
For Sale quick sales
Being sold
Too hot whats cold
Those emails trying
to delete
(More casualties
Tombstone mummies
Democracy leading us like
dummies chewing Bear
Valentine gummies)
Like the "Elephant Stampede"
New Orleans parade
Every day please donate
We never know about
our fate too early or late
Every day new Providence
Demon computer virus
Love comes with confidence
Love yourself and Venus
Apples and oranges minus
Use it You have a voice!!!
City clean up cockroaches
Swap your fake Rolex
Watchtower index
Trump tower complex
"Eiffel Tower Use It" to be kissed
Every day we need to cleanse
The "Godly Shower" be blessed
Practical Everday Use It
Magical write poetically
Precisely the right piece puzzle
You are the one
World it's you to dazzle*
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 9:54 AM UTC
I know her intimately and not at all,
Her fragrance infiltrates, chases me,
A whiff off the tips of my fingers,
The smell of her is hunger,
It makes me wont to wolf and devour,
Her flush on the flat of my tongue,
Her angel whisper,
Our quiet choir a pleasure,
A harmony,
A crescendo until we seed and mute.
Between us,
Our damp swap,
A no man’s land,
A moist design,
The map of lust.
The art of love is always,
In its stains.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
Who cares if they watch our love?
— Fact they rather'd see:
It matters not in this cove,
In this sprawl of love and sweep:
Re-lose those eyes in this rime,
Then folds will lay and swap:
Then pink and red would stain our skin,
And fight we would to stay on top:
And whites of eyes will sil'ly appear,
Too busy we are enveloped in we:
In all this thing of our love,
Of kiss, and rush, and kiss, and flee.
Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 1:46 AM UTC
Stunt ****
He can be your lover lady, ima be your stunt **** He can be your boyfriend mommy, ima be your stunt **** He can be your husband **** ima be your stunt **** stunt **** fluid swap, yep when them ******* drop. Lights, camera, action ,I’m your stunt **** stunt **** Lights camera, action, I’m your stunt **** stunt **** Ima be your stunt **** girl and beat it up, yep ima beat it up, that man there can eat it up. We don’t need no scrip for this act or no monolog, you can adlib, improvise on my microphone. We can do the box spring boogie all night long, we can get ***** coz play like its Comic Con. Tag your girlfriend in, we can do a menajahtwa , pile drive that nannie, Macho Man Wrestle Mania. Petting that ***** Doctor Claw, go go gadget pennies, working your equation *** notation like a mad genius. If I nut prematurely , don’t you worry I got ****** it’s not superman, but stuntman with all the stamina, Ima beat it up like Van Dam at the Comitia ,finger, lick and kiss each other while I ********* It’s ocean spray ,whale watching like in Monterrey.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
[PART ONE]
xeroxed, RT'd and plagiarized
so many times on so many blogs
tween blogs to republican blogs
to blogs in Russia and
blogs no one ever scrolls though...
original content is prey
but I have a warning for they:
overrated, over-shared
content aggregators beware
the lines you swap can
rot and ware
the World Wide Web
does not care.
[PART TWO]
original content
original contests
original continent
original controversy
original coordination between strangers
original calvary riding their connection into the battlefield of internet memes; creating nothing and sharing everything
[COMMENTARY]
original nothing, nowhere, nobody except facebook "Funny Vidoes!" & "Cool Quotes!". 'Like' pages whose sole originality lies within their own existence but nothing they share. They steal from the rest of the web and re-post what they find for out-of-the-loop troglodytes; often done so in inferior context and with no perspective. The 'refried beans' phenomenon, I call it. I find it fitting because 'refried beans' are a double misnomer. The name comes from 'frijoles refritos' - which means 'well-fried' not 'refried'. They are also never traditionally fried more than once. Yet the name sticks, it gets repeated, it gets re-shared and now that's what they are: refried beans. This phenomenon is why I believe art and all original content eventually become so over-shared and overrated that it's no longer interesting but irritating. These three parts of the poem "Original Content" are separated in abstract authorial presentation. The author has clearly expressed his dislike for the disjunct un-imagination of the internet and presents it as such.
[PART THREE]
original authors losing control of their audiences who believe they are the creators and the artist's art is somewhat shareable
original miscommunication between web 1.0 and web 2.0 reality
original alphabet they use to type on their keyboards
original grammar they learned in school
original money their gov't printed
original content they re-post
original refried beans
original content
orginal contet
ogrinal cotent
ognal ctt
oc
.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
There's a danger in sleeping with a friend.
You find out he's just a stranger in the end.
Pretty words, they trip me up,
then I fall and get my heart ripped up.
You shut the door, left me cold.
Thought you'd say more, if I wait I'd grow old.
Funny how you insist you're too busy for me,
when my kiss had your eyes dizzy for me.
I should have known.
Your eyes were closed,
the way you moaned,
they weren't just for me alone.
I'm not a solution to your heartbreak,
I wish you weren't another memory for my heartache.
You used to ******* adore me.
I didn't realize that's what ******* a ***** means.
I used to swap spit for love,
lips for love,
***** for love,
but all I got was ***** who think
I'm not good enough.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
One day at a food shop,
I met a man selling cats,
For the money, he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some bats.
"Got any bats?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No bats here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.
"We've got some lovely cakes,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some snakes."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.
The man seemed exceptionally brainy,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call zany,
The great disdain he noticeably oozed.
Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit beautiful.
Still, he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty dutiful.
So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the food shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you, I believe."
"Cats, bats, you shall find.
Cakes, snakes, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to New York Market.
So to New York Market, I decided to go,
In search of the bats, I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.
There were stalls selling apples,
Strawberry in many shades.
There were even stalls selling apples
People were scattered from many trades
I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather beautiful
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all dutiful.
Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some bats!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some cakes and cats.
"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the bats she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.
As I walked away I heard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 9:56 PM UTC
Tulip blooms, she smiles
The pebbles cemented into the sidewalk
And why didn't we notice it earlier
Tulip blooms, he smiles
Piles of tulips in deep lilac
His sentiment to her.
His private messages delivered to her heart
Thank the tulips for all they do.
Tulips blooms, she smiles
When these fragrances reminded her
Tulip blooms, he smiles
Leaning on his solo path.
Spring is here.
A symbol in the journey they take
a petal for each milestone
Tulip blooms, she smiles.
Tulip blooms, he smiles
A swap role in each chapter they make
Who is trying to save them,
really, who is it? If Tulips were fragile,
like them too?
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 7:39 AM UTC
I make my way to the window
It is this place where we meet
Full of excitement, light on my feet
I come here quite often
Waiting for her to arrive
My waiting ends when I see
Her walking, coming up to me
Separated by a window
We speak as we usually do
As inevitably as the sun sets
She turns to leave with the light
I make my way to the window
Summer ends, time doesn’t stop
But our meetings, I’d never swap
We still meet here separated
A window still stands between
All I want is to open the window
To rid what I am bounded by
I make my way to the window
Our meetings now, less frequent
I miss that heavenly sequence
I stand here hoping she’ll come around
I should’ve said how I truly feel
I should’ve yelled it from the window sill
I make my way to the window
She’s not coming anymore
With that thought I’m sure
With one last look I see her once more
I’ve longed for this moment
We are now as we were before
Nothing less nothing more
My feelings haven’t changed
But I think I’m content
Keeping the window shut for now
As inevitably as the moon rises
She leaves with the light
I still want to tell her
All I want is for her to know
But I’m happy here, for now
Morning comes again
I make my way to the window
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
I can’t believe you could be so extremely unfaithful to me
You’re almost my brother
Is my wife up for grabs on the side
Something I never told you buddy oh pal
Once when I was working with your wife (My sister in law) she questioned me about her attractiveness and how **** I Rated her to be
I knew right then your beautiful wife wanted a kiss from me
I’ve watched her for so long, after all she is my sister-in-law. Yet I’ve seen her clear,
And because of you I kept my distance
A gentle man
Gives no resistance
If you do have my wife
I assure you
Your beautiful wife is mine!
You can have her back later
And one of my future rhymes.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 5:40 PM UTC