"talkie" poems
How can he be so cocky, fight like rocky
talking in morse code, like a walkie talkie
how can he be so cold, like an ice cube to hold
so bold like a robot that can't be controlled
how can he be so sarcastic, ******* spastic
no fantastic antics seen in plastic
won't bend and won't stretch like elastic
doing flips like a drastic gymnastic
possessed with true ability, like a runners agility
but no flexibility when it comes to futility
a never seen utility with no docility
showing capability, breaking through the fragility
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
Vast, empty, midnight hour,
hunchbacked lampposts glaring over parasitic black earth
choking its host.
A parking lot,
an ecosystem’s blemish—
hot tar seeping into the pores of the earth
like a stubborn blackhead in a lip line.
When no cars burrow into the blackened hide
like lice
the great absence of life
is an atrocity.
I imagine myself skateboarding across the tier
as the small town cops
watch languidly with vague interest—
A skateboarder’s paradise
where wheels and accomplice minds roll across celestial barriers
blasting infinite pulses
into the microcosm.
What greasy punks have their mother’s van parked here,
huddling by the heat vents
and jerking off into a Pringle’s can?
Empty parking lot
looks like a cemetery
filled to the brim
where headstones meld
over a mass grave—
delineated by white lines,
the apparitions of vehicles and their hosts
haunt the frozen space.
Another horrible excuse
to waste land,
a wasteland in and of itself
where Tom Eliot saunters aimlessly
and buries the dead.
The saddest sight to behold,
this vacuous parking lot
littered with stray shopping carts,
phantasmal plastic bags,
gum splotches,
***** stains,
candy wrappers,
cigarette butts,
used condoms,
lonely cops
and patient drug dealers,
ambulant skaters,
tired punks,
bored teenagers,
somnambulists,
stumbling drunks,
hunchbacked ***** lights
prying for life beneath its sallow gaze—
The air encapsulated within the perdition
stifling,
the pavement below stifling,
a constriction only visible
when emptied of its contents.
A cop wakes from their choking nightmare gasping
to find themselves trapped,
****** in this parking lot
where the walkie-talkie buzzes
with the weeping and gnashing of teeth.
The warehouse store
looming above the waiting room
lifeless, silent, dark countenance—
Big Brother sees all in the gaping maw.
Cascading before me,
stretching towards the highway passing by,
waiting for the panorama to finish scrolling,
the treadmill to cease its cycle—
all the while lamenting life’s absence
and reveling in the potentiality it possesses.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 10:18 PM UTC
I found -in the shadow of a
Crane rigged and ready- that
I couldn't help myself.
Took a ladder to the huge sphere
Of chipped and battered iron,
And threw one leg on either
Side of the chain.
Sang leaning and rocking
Into the walkie talkie
As my foreman spat his
Coffee not to choke; laughing along
With Swedes, Polish, Lithuanians
And Norwegians alike.
Miley. Bringing people
Together.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
I don't know when it became
Such a game
To just communicate
With you
Some power play
But dang I'd choose
Cups and strings
And walkie talkies
Over this "thing"
Any day
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
hyper-jinxed like an old talkie
scrap the fat off the cow!
swipe that smile off your face
to watch the sunset fade away.
batshit crazy
candidly rogue
an eventful leap from far fetched lore
gory details please spare me
a big fat ***** and a way to reap
the pretties from the twits.
but the lee-way from the stars beyond
sometimes gets trapped into hairy armpits.
then their neon pink hued blue eyed trolls
take their slippers to the snow.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 11:24 PM UTC
rotting horse carcass.
green glowing filament by moonlight ******
& mistrust us.
radioactive drums of waste &/or dreams.
boys swimming.
fistfights at night
by headlight & tooth crackle. (spit) then bonfire pallets
lit & danced upon.
plumes
of gas-can outcries.
the days & abuelitas
& ghosts
pinched cheek - pinched cooler - grandaddy
on the grill.
his gasping yellow dogs.
judy is in the underbrush with a walkie-talkie
& a p.b.j.
desmond leaps from high rocks; he
descends into another world by way of molecular-mishap.
dove deep.
riding the portal boar.
wasps hover above spilt wine
& declare war upon brothers with b.b. guns
& firecrackers
& spf 50+. the saturday/sunday sagas
between beams of heat laughter breakdowns
to knees, to bees,
honey.
homecoming queen dead & wrapped
in plastic.
body found with
turtle bites.
fungi.
the slabs of granite.
old iron tractors bent & held by tree wives.
toast.
jam hewn hwedges of crisped bread.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 2:34 AM UTC
Amelia, our baby first,
in nine months have grown a third;
no speech, no talkie,
all she wants is walkie-walkie.
Being our first we naturally debate,
on how best to educate;
dolls for girls and guns for boys,
what nonsense, toys are toys.
Will she a doctor, lawyer or housewife be,
I live long hope to see;
right now she is just naughty,
and breaks the dining cutlery.
Of food she is choosy,
and eats most daintily;
she is chubby and she is fair,
we only lament her lack of hair.
Every now and then a few steps she takes,
tip-toe grace does not a ballerina makes;
like all parents our hopes high burn,
to a swan, our little Amelia turns.
Knowing games played by Fate,
we have decided, now of late;
to take the profit with the loss,
to let nature takes it's course.
The things of value we provide,
the self-life chart she decides;
this happy burden, we dare say,
is gladly borne, day-to-day.
As we look on her behalf,
down life's long and winding path;
we can only say, with a sigh,
sweet dreams and goodnight.
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 3:43 AM UTC
I used to be hidden in my room
choking at my mouth's roof
as if stuck within a stutter,
exhausted from existing, hinging
like a wind-chime battered by a hurricane.
Then a troubadour with honey hair
had me humming to his ear-worm
of a melody, depicting a choreography
that jolted my legs into frenetic mania
like an early talkie starlet's.
For years, I have memorized
this intricate chord structure,
immersed myself in its crescendos
until I could belt it backwards.
It's the only song I know by heart.
There is this one tune, though,
if you can even call it that,
this atonal reverberation that alerts
the darkest corners of my mind,
a slowly muttered siren song
leading to lands I never want to visit.
I can never fully decipher
the lyrics to an entire verse.
It's the excerpts, scattered
like dust mites in a concert hall,
that try to nibble at me piecemeal,
romanticizing the revolving door
of self-destruction, bruises
veiled as smudged calligraphy.
So please excuse the minor notes
that hiccup from my vocal cords
every other half moon or so.
It's just the ebb and flow
of awkward drumming
that disorients the ear,
causes me to trip up
on the patchwork of refrains
we've spent so much time weaving
into heavenly cohesion.
Above all, please remember
that no static or din
will ever shoehorn its way
into our ironclad harmony.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
walkie talkie
boy like shawty
shy but naughty
but whose identity?
"that's so girly"
prejudice from early
10:23
who am I supposed to be?
pink fizz and blue drips
materialistic shizz and new kicks
is it that hard for me to fit in?
besides myself, I feel it heavier on my shoulders than ever before
who am I and what have I found?
three, how unlucky
egotistical, dependent, broke, dumb,
drop out of school kid
with dreams that are too big
still this age
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 5:29 AM UTC
I
if I yelled into a walkie talkie,
would you melt, or burn,
blaring noise
glaring sun,
glaze the windows, someone!
II
fade away and radiate,
move the people dis-populate,
we may all glow,
there are leaks, they know,
but that is not all
they are going to build
an icy wall to STOP thoseleaksnow,
some one strong willed
is taking charge of those positive and negatives
keep an i on atom, physically speaking.
III
shake, shake
roll the water
shake shake
roll the dice
shake shake
what happens
in the kitchen
where it is hot
and you bang
plates together
the do break, explosively
this time, no
tsunami, so sue me
but it was a six point one
when we get a nine what then?
IV
they have politics,
they have unrest,
they have strife,
put the ad in
the paper, some
one misunderstood, vehement
denials, sabres rattling cementing
bad relations blame the propagandist
bad formula blame the chemist
bad politics cost elections
bad people take lives
that are not theirs to erase, displace
or otherwise disgrace, I know we will
never know what has gone on,
but it really comes down to ONE,
all it takes is one to die,
and it - whatever the point is
is wrong,
all it takes is a million refugees,
not one in power will listen if we
say STOP please,
think of the creative talent who have died,
think of the number of times you have lied,
think of the geniuses unable to breath through their face,
oh wait, if you did think, in the first place,
you still would have done it anyway,
because that is who you are, makin' people wear sarin, eau de ... deathly
silence is a grave filled with the cries
of the innocents
chaos is a grave filled with violent
death with intent
lashing out first and with such force
is a grave filled with numbers of
the lost, who now are no more
the cost is too dear to bear
except with sadness, and mourning
but there is no time there is danger
and warring
while the world dithers uncertain,
close the blinds
draw the curtain,
cover your ears,
we are doing something
here, umm, there.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
It was midnight in Manhattan and the cats were out
they donned themselves with their scarves, and their masks
the caper was set to hit each flat
cause boy were they hungry for some tasty rats
To be in The Feral Cat Club was as cool as it got
See -they'd developed a language that kept them on top
Hell, they ran that town like a bunch of Capone's
but they ran in packs instead of alone
There was Fatty, n' Johnny, and Frankie n' Joe
paired up with Sally n' Bonnie, and Talkie n' Moe
between Broadway, and 42nd they made their move
Meow, meow, meeeeeeeeeeeow, said Fatty to Moe
(this was the call they needed to duck n' lay low)
It meant The Animal Cat wagon was passing by slow
Meow, mow, said Frankie to all
which told everyone he saw a major haul
Sally whispered she was tired of rats n' could they please try
a wonderful place they had all just passed by
it was the new restaurant with meatballs out back
(cause some lame waiter had thrown out a sack)
So they all had a vote, and the meatballs won
placing white napkins beneath furry whiskers for fun
They're all so glad that they've upgraded their style
Now when you see them they can do nothing but smile!
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
I shrunk down
To be an equal of one of those little green army men.
Not one of the weaponized ones.
That one with the Walkie-Talkie
Everyone made fun of for being useless.
I stole his walkie-talkie, actually.
I was scaling your mountain
So I needed some sort of communication.
From the sheets, I rose.
Carefully, clumsily climbed up you
Mount Olympus for mortals.
I almost fell
I almost dropped my radio
I almost got lost in you.
But I prevailed.
And when I reached the top
I said "I claim this"
But I couldn't really claim it
Because I didn't have a flag
And how do you claim something without a flag?
And in a way I don't think I should be able to claim you
Because claim is a word for lesser mountains.
You cannot claim what wasn't created by you
Or name it.
But I was two inches tall
With a tiny green radio
That just kept squawking
"Are you there, C? It's me, Ego!"
So I tried my best.
Aug 1, 2010
Aug 1, 2010 at 6:10 AM UTC
I met a girl I may not meet
I love this girl I cannot touch
I love this girl who lives far away
beyond reasonable doubt
we cant ever say
when it will ever start.
It's getting too close
its like I'm in love with a ghost.
She in a life but
not the one I wish to live.
100 times a think of this
and still we kiss we kiss we kiss.
I'm afraid I'm worshipping a mark
that I will never be able to rub off
I want to be honest and tell her
I want her,
And I'm lost because I can't,
I talked to her because I was lonely,
now I'm lonely because I want more.
That's a little bit my fault.
I told her everything,
except when I cheated on her
from across the sea,
because I gotta get it.
I can't help it.
And it kills me to know she prob does the same.
In tonight's dream we met again
but she was with another man
and all I wanted was to leave
this world of dreams and seal
this deal.
So I'm getting too close to a cold sun.
I let myself do this,
here's to you Vic:
Let's be honest,
Let's share life,
Let's be crazy,
Let's be fast,
Let's be slow,
Let's be forever,
Let's be a show,
Let's be the ground,
Let's be the nothing,
Let's be hole,
Let's be the stuffing,
Let's be a team,
Let's be together,
Let's be supportive,
In any weather.
Let's be happy,
we found each other,
Don't cry because it's mortal,
Smile because it had the luck to be.
Let's be the dirt,
Let's be ****
Let's be a thousand
more days of luck.
Let's be Juillet and Roméo,
Let's be two strangers in the know,
Let's be an ******
Let's be my dream,
Let's be The light
that can't be seen,
Let's be that thing
you never touch
Let's be the Light that can't be seen
but that you see,
Let's be that thing you can never touch
but that you touch,
Let's be a walkie talkie,
Let's be one,
Let's be a story,
Let's be sung,
Let's be boring,
Let's be numb,
Let's be worried,
Let's be hung,
Let's be something,
Let's be almost nothing
but still something,
(where already that)
Let's be Sumner,
Let's be winter,
Let's be all ages together,
Let's be lucid,
Let's be wise,
Let's be my sister just came back home really sad from failing her exam and It sort of bring me back from reality. One where you have to sign bills and dreams break in pieces. So now I have to get back in the mood of writing this without failing the general idea. I just reread the whole thing and it seems stupid.
Let's be synchronised,
Let's be doubtful,
Let's be sad,
Let's be mad,
Let's be alive,
Let's have a dream
I'm just realising the only reason I'm feeling good is that I have a dream you.
Let's break the boredom,
Let's melt the chains
and make our own
Let's build
Let's break,
Let's gjxzl
djzksls
cjxjs
coco
eosoc
ekdks
cjciwl
vj jzpa
gogo
vic
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:59 AM UTC
i smash my guitar one day,
start listening to
b.b.c. radio 4
the next day,
what in god's name?!
p.s. it's a talkie station,
no music,
first up the diet problem
of finland, esp. in the
dairy rich region that
inspired sibelius,
about how: real men
don't work on vegetables
but on fat, because vegetables
are for animals...
and how a national intervention
demanded berries on the menu
of these men;
a list of fruits i used to eat:
pomegranates, passion fruit,
apples pears pineapples bananas,
cantaloup melons water melons,
sharon fruit mangos,
strawberries blackberries blueberries,
lychees oranges mandarins,
white grapes black grapes,
sour weeds cherries and above all else
gooseberries; and that's not
mentioning the vegetables.
but about listening to b.b.c. radio 4,
how did i become so middle-aged
"middle-class" english so quick?
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 11:13 AM UTC
Last night I dreamt,
that I was in the house of my chilhood.
It was stormy outside, like a hurricane.
I was looking everywhere for you- I think it was the apocalypse.
Then I recieved something in the mail, a package
and it was from you.
There was a ring inside the box.
The ring was also a walkie talkie, and you had one too.
As soon as I saw what was in the box, I looked up and you were there.
You began showing me how to use it, then
all of a sudden,
there were people everywhere
in all the rooms
all around us.
It became difficult to stay close to you, so we used our talkie rings.
I found you and the storm got worse.
Everyone around was shouting and you kissed me.
It was a really good kiss
and you didn't stop.
Then, I woke up, and I think for a split second I thought you were in bed next to me.
Today the clouds are grey
but there is no storm.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 1:11 PM UTC
everything was set into place just like I planned
I found myself the perfect spot to hit my targets
without them noticing me from a higher up distance
I can’t be seen though or I’ll blow my cover
from afar there are two people in a isolated area
a great place for me to carry out this lovely mission
without any witnesses interfering
I take my “bow” out of my suitcase and start to reload my “arrows”
I line up my first shot to the first person’s frontal lobe
with one push of the trigger
my love magic pierced through one of them with ease
the other screamed in a great terror
but don’t worry they’ll meet up with them soon
as I quickly reload my “arrow” I see them run away in fright
they try to signal for help but I can’t let that happen
with a quick shot my love magic went through the back of their head
now both of their souls can finally interact in another life
“did you carry out the job “ my boss said through my walkie talkie
“affirmative sir” I replied
with each mission I carry out I do it with love
even if it ends with me being on the wanted posters
Jan 3, 2025
Jan 3, 2025 at 9:50 PM UTC
You should write novels.
I have a walkie-talkie, and a bluegill
in my pocket, waiting for the apocalypse.
I am certain, anyway,
that you will bring me flowers, flowers
that I will arrange in milk.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
Listen like you're deaf
Like your very breath is dependent on
turning up every sense to the maximum
become one with each and every sign
this aint a talkie so align your whole self
to complete concentration
embody the revelation
until you're full in the face of emotion.
Listen like you're deaf
and then you'll hear the whole person.
Speak like you're deaf
Like your very breath is dependent on
turning up every sense to the maximum
become one with each and every sign
this aint a talkie so align your whole self
to complete concentration
embody self revelation
until you've released full emotion.
Speak like you're deaf
and then you'll show the whole person.
Apr 8, 2021
Apr 8, 2021 at 7:15 AM UTC
It was a dark and stormy night, or at least it was for our single-parent family. The rest of the neighbourhood was enjoying the kind of clear skies which meant a hard frost overnight and a slippery ride to school in the morning.
The barometer in our neat, wee house at the end of our short, ordinary street was falling rapidly, as it often did these days. My father, an Iraq War veteran - _’Honourably discharged for dishonourable reasons, and don’t you forget it. ****** fascists!’_ - was in charge of our weather. From blue skies with candy-cotton clouds in the morning to an eerie half-light of silent anticipation by late afternoon, we would end the day huddled around the kitchen table waiting for the maelstrom to hit.
We ate carefully trying not to scrape our plates with our knives and forks, and avoiding each other’s eyes. The cauliflower cheese was examined as closely as every other vegetable my aunt Kate - _‘I’ll not have my family eating slaughtered animals!’_ - served up to us. You’d think the food on our plates was the most interesting thing in our precarious little world. Peas were my favourite because you could count them over and over...until they were finished.
Wind and rain lashed our evenings regularly. Sometimes we were treated to the automatic-rifle fire of hail, but worst of all were the sandstorms which ****** all the air out of our home and stymied any hope of sleep. On those occasions we all huddled together in my sister’s bed - _’No, Alex! It’s Livvy’s turn to hold the torch. You can look after the phone in case we need to ring Dr Matt to help Auntie Kate.’_
We updated our worst-vegetarian-creation notebook and talked in close whispers about _the weather_. Mostly, we sat quietly and longed for blue skies and sunshine tomorrow, while the captain cowered in the cubby-hole beneath the stairs and screamed into my six-year-old brother’s plastic walkie-talkie. ‘Man down, man down, man down!’
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 8:18 PM UTC
You always fight like a ****
Taking and receiving blows like robots
Talking like a parrot
You forgot that the dark moon is near
You run from place to place
Like a cheetah
Barking like a dog
Laughing to the back of the tree like a hyena
You forget that the dark moon is near.
You eat as if you are swallowing stones
Chewing the sand of the air
Opening your mouth like a yawner man
Jumping from woman to woman
From man to man
Like monkey
You forgot that the dark is near.
Are you a soldier?
Carrying sticks up and down
Marching from hill to valley like soldier ants
You forgot that the dark moon is near.
You work in the government house
Acquiring the whole into your pocket
Making noise like a walkie talkie
Forget your home like wild animal
Jumping from pole to post
You forget that the dark moon is near.
What is that dark moon?
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 9:18 PM UTC
or priceless, last night
when the couple at the table
next to us at this little pizzeria
unexpectedly paid for our dinner
after I was fairly sure we had been
disrupting them, being well, six -
talkie, wiggly, silly, droppy...
we thanked them and then he said
you have a really well-behaved kid
which was, like, a really big deal
as most days I feel like
an inept kitten herder
except my herd is one
or two, if you count feistypaws
think they both don’t know
I’m the legit pack leader
and are vying for alpha
against one another, but
maybe I’m not doing
so bad
after all
after that
we made penny wishes
in the fountain outside
which is something I
never do alone, because generally
way jaded re: assigning my lofties to
depreciating currency deposits
in chlorinated public fountains
his: for me to get a thousand dollars
(to share with him)
mine: for him and me to have
all the love in the world
and for everyone everywhere
to be happy, free and get what they need
decided to toss in another penny
in case that sounded greedy
to the public plumbing fairy
and still my
insecurity is processing
whether they really thought
he was well-behaved and
enjoyed watching us or just
felt sorry for me
two-top charity...
I should prolly
take out my bad brain
that made me think that thing
and put in my good brain
as my kid likes to say
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 10:15 AM UTC