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Sing me a thrush, bone.
Sing me a nest of cup and pestle.
Sing me a sweetbread fr an old grandfather.
Sing me a foot and a doorknob, for you are my love.
Oh sing, bone bag man, sing.
Your head is what I remember that Augusty
you were in love with another woman but
taht didn't matter. I was the gury of your
bones, your fingers long and nubby, your
forehead a beacon, bare as marble and I worried
you like an odor because you had not quite forgotten,
bone bag man, garlic in the North End,
the book you dedicated, naked as a fish,
naked as someone drowning into his own mouth.
I wonder, Mr. Bone man, what you're thinking
of your fury now, gone sour as a sinking whale,
crawling up the alphabet on her own bones.
Am I in your ear still singing songs in the rain,
me of the death rattle, me of the magnolias,
me of the sawdust tavern at the city's edge.
Women have lovely bones, arms, neck, thigh
and I admire them also, but your bones
supersede loveliness. They are the tough
ones that get broken and reset. I just can't
answer for you, only for your bones,
round rulers, round nudgers, round poles,
numb nubkins, the sword of sugar.
I feel the skull, Mr. Skeleton, living its
own life in its own skin.
Russ Heeschen Feb 2021
Rap is a craft and it oughta be,
But my rap is crap;
That’s just the way it comes outa me.

My rhymes and my rhythm are kinda feeble,
When I play a record sideways all I do is break the needle.

You lay a eight on its side and you get a infinity;
that’s how old I was when I lost my virginity.

Took my side piece out for a high class dinner
To show her I’m a winner
But I lost all my street cred when I ordered the sweetbread.

My homies formed a gang
And I tried to join the ranks,
But the only part of “gangsta”
I can handle is the “angst.”

I’d bust a move but my move buster’s rusted,
I’d pop a cap but my aim can’t be trusted.

One more thing to say
Before I depart:
Next time I’ll do a mic drop
Before I start.

Pizza? Out
A follow-up to “Why I Cannot Sing the Blues”
Obadiah Grey Jun 2010
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
Big Virge Aug 2019
Is POWER ... A Thing ...
That MOTIVATES You ... ???

cos' These Days ...
Some People ...
USE It To ... ABUSE ... !!!

WHY Use It For THAT ... ?!?

These People Are FOOLS ... !!!
Who ... CLEARLY Have ...
NOTHING ELSE ... Better To Do ... !?!

Women With ... " POWER " ...
IGNITE ... Like A Fuse ... !!!

cos' Men Who They Work With ...
Just QUAKE In ... " Their Shoes " ... !!!

" These Men " ...
Are Just ... " weak " ... !!!
and Suitably ... " meek " ...
and Some of These ... " men " ...

DON'T LIKE When I Speak ...

"Don't talk about women,
in chauvinist ways !"

They Leave Me ...
In ... STITCHES ... !!!!!

cos' THESE Are ...
Male ******* ...... !!!?!!!

These Are The Things ...
That Have ... SHIFTED POWER ...

POWERFUL Men ...
Are Now Made To ............................................. "cower" .......

By YES ...
POWER Women ... !!!

Who Are ... UNFORGIVING ... !!!

Women Like ... THESE ...
Are Ones Who ....................... DON'T LISTEN .....

They're QUICK TO ... " Jump IN " ...
To ... PROVE Their POSITION ... !!!!!!!

But Like ... ANY Cow ...
They Simply NEED ... " Milking " ... !!!!!

UNTIL They're ... DRIED OUT ...
From North To ... " Down SOUTH " ... !!!

Fellas ... YOU KNOW ...
What I'm Talking About ... !!!!!

That's The ... BEST WAY ...
To Make Them ... SHUT THEIR MOUTH ... !!!!!

But POWER STILL .... " Shifts " ....
If They've Got ... The CLOUT ... !!!!!

If You're ON ... " The HIT LIST " ...
You'd BETTER ... Move OUT ... !!!!!!

Before They ... " Make Moves " ...
To ... Get You KNOCKED OUT ... !!!

They Hit ... "below belts" ...
Or Do ... Something Else ...
That Gets Them To ... Places ...
Where Collars ................................... AREN'T Felt .......................

This Is Some Prose ...
To PROVE To ... You Blokes ...

Some Women Are DEADLY ... !!!!
and POWEFRUL ... Foes ... !!!!

DON'T Give Them ... AN INCH ...
Cos' ... When They DO PINCH ...

LISTEN Up Fellas ...
You're Likely To ... WINCE ... !!!!!!!!

As If You'd Got ... TACKLED ..
By Someone Called ... INCE ...
Or Maybe .... Roy Keane ... !!!!!!!

They Were ... POWER Players ...
Who Weren't ... ALWAYS Clean ... !!!

and Wore The RED SHIRT ...

of The ... " Red Devil Team " ...

POWER Can ... " SHAKE Ya' " ...
Just Ask ..... " Malcolm Glazer " ..... !!!

Cos' ... RED DEVIL Fans ...
DON'T Believe He's ... Their SAVIOUR ... !!!

But CHECK OUT ... "His STASH" ...
of ... DOLLAR Type PAPER ... !!!

They CLAIM ....
He's ... "In DEBT" ...
But ... Hold on A Sec' ...
He ... Bought Up That Club ...
WITHOUT ... Bouncing Cheques ... !?!

These People With ... POWER ...
Are SURE To .... " COLLECT " .... !!!

While Those WITHOUT .................................................. Money ...........
KEEP Making .... Those BETS ...
In EVERY ... " Bookmaker " ...

So Where's .......................................
........................... Malcolm Glazer .................... ? ! ? ! ?

See ....

POWER Is ... Something ...
That's NOT FOR ... " The Poor " ... !!!

They Use These Bank BREAKERS ...
From Bookies To ... ****** ...
To KEEP YOU From Moving ...
Through ... POWERFUL Doors ... !!!

Doors of ... CONGRESS ...

Or .....

Doors To ... THE LORDS ...

THOSE Who ... "HOLD POWER" ...
Like Sweetbread Holds FLOUR ... !!!

They Make ...
By The ... Hour ...
To BUILD ... " Office TOWERS " ...

And Then Have THE CHEEK ...
To GIVE ... IDIOTS POWER .... !?!?!

From Women To ... Men ...
They've ALWAYS ... " Set Trends " ...
That KEEP ON Repeating ...

AGAIN and AGAIN ......

From ...
TREACHEROUS Wars ...
To ... Todays' ...
High Street ****** ...

Words That I'm Saying ...
Have Been Said ... BEFORE ... !!!

So ...
When Will We ... CHANGE ... ?!!!?
and YES ... " Re-Arrange " ...
and CHANGE How We PLAY ...

Life's ...
SINISTER ... " Game " ...

YES ...
Life IS ... " A Game " ...

...... That ......

Just ISN'T ... "tame" ... !!!!!

I'M SICK of ... " These People " ...
Who KEEP ... CLAIMING Fame ... !!!!!

What Have You DONE ... ?
To PROVE You're ... " The ONE " ... ?!?

These People AREN'T .... " NEO " ....
But Shoot ... NAKED GUNS ... !!!!!

I'm NOT ... Leslie Nielsen ...
Those Words Are ... THE TRUTH ... !!!

But ....
As I ........................... Leave you ...........................

Take These IN ...
and CHEW ...............

What Kind of ... " People " ... ?!?

Make THESE .......

..... " Power Moves " .....
The visions I had at the time,
of what Power did to people, inspired this piece.
Satsih Verma Jun 2018
Sharing my sweetbread
with you in densely days when
want spans religion.

You burn my roses.
Exiting the day I go for―
wash of cannabis.

Cannot forget you
once in my emptiness of
harvesting the moon.

Rains. The August night―
invites an apparition.
You walk through the door.
Gitu LM Dec 2020
The walls of the narrow way echoed the feelings my tongue couldn't deliver into words….
The silence could gulp even my darkest fears..
Long forgotten shreds of memories
The sound of the fans in my Dojo..
The counts of the sensei….
Ending in sweetbread and a night ride in our grandpa's old active..

Remorse defeats my rage.Why???
I do not know..

Days when you demanded chocolates for the prints my gloves left on your cheeks,
But today, the marks your fists made run deep inside my tummy.. It erupts a vacuum inside me that cadburys can never fill..

Realising,
That pain loses its purity once the ring disappears…
Wondering,
When did I start confusing maturity with arrogance.

2007,
I remember looking down at you,
on the floor clinging on my knees
2011,
The first day of your school
Break visit
You hugging me tight,
Rain pouring down, June smiling down on us…
Breaks later, me still trapped in the baker block strapped to your arm with a bunch of primary kids…..
2020,
Now I have to lift my heavy head up to see your face…
45°somehow drifts as even further…
I don't know if it's the gravity or the silence that hurts more..
I 'am' happy to see you..
But the years of dragging must have dissolved my smile…
So I ask myself,
When did maturity become a license for arrogance?

I wish we could go back to those times… .
When I say those times I do not mean the Christmas nights…
The hangings , the lights, fixing up the tree past dark..
the aftertaste of nuts and plum on the edge of your tongue,
The bittersweet of grape wine that still ferments my throat…
Watching the star on the porch till February because no one cared to take them down… .

When I say those times,
I don't mean the weekend trips, BBQ in the middle of the forest,
the smell of lemon,
the juice dripping down the chicken
watering our mouths.
A feeling, whose reasons, our brains seemed to forget..
I do not mean the times we jumped up and down in my bed to the rhythms of our mom's radio that's now broken and dusty somewhere in the attic… ..

When I say those times,I don't mean that day when we hid inside our little house when you punched a kid in the face when he commented on my body….
Not those times you shouted at me when I was joking about death..
Definitely not that time when we were walking home from the bus stop and you threw your finger in the air, to those idiots when I clearly had a voice.

I am talking about those times when my heart wasn't as cold. ..
When my resting face wasn't a static form of indifference.....
When you used to make sexist jokes to provoke me .
before all the vigour died, but I can't seem to find the end point in time…

Before I could differentiate between love and hate..
Now I'm shattered into pieces and no matter how carefully I integrate,
My feelings get nullified in the end..
When you kicked me in the stomach,
All I saw was the antagonist of all my nightmares,
A misogynistic face of patriarchal chauvinism lashing out at me
the fear and the rage consumed me
leaving me helpless.
But deep inside this emotional sphere that I carry around at the center of it all,
the feminist in me dies….
their lives a girl whose own blood burns her skin.
She weeps.

I do not cry for her.

I can't comfort her.
Maturity has made us strangers.
How can I blame you for the drift between us, when I have created spaces in between pieces of myself ……
when I'm burning down bridges, every day. Inside of me,
so I'm sitting here in this dark hallway, wondering,
when did maturity became a synonym for distance… .

— The End —