"teeny" poems
HOT WHEELS.
I went from broke to buying a Lamborghini,
Price tag not so teeny,
Sleek and black, for my driving academy,
Or should I buy the red Ferrari?
Command a salesman to "comprare"?
Wouldn't he be a happy chappy?
But would it make me happy?
I could be buying loads of stuff,
But when you're old, you've got enough!
To me, consumerism is in vain,
My peaceful simple life in the slow lane.
So, today I did not buy the red Ferrari,
Or indeed the sleek Lamborghini,
There was no Hot Wheels Driving School,
Consumerism as a manipulative tool.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
Quite unexpectedly, as Vasserot
The armless ambidextrian was lighting
A match between his great and second toe,
And Ralph the lion was engaged in biting
The neck of Madame Sossman while the drum
Pointed, and Teeny was about to cough
In waltz-time swinging Jocko by the thumb—
Quite unexpectedly the top blew off:
And there, there overhead, there, there hung over
Those thousands of white faces, those dazed eyes,
There in the starless dark the poise, the hover,
There with vast wings across the cancelled skies,
There in the sudden blackness the black pall
Of nothing, nothing, nothing—nothing at all.
7.9k
They enter the café just as some sappy pop song is playing
They order then immediately hug
Embrace
Swaying to one side, together, like the wind
Encircling the leaning tower of Pisa
Then teetering to the other solstice
Foot to foot, smile to smile, hand round skirted waist
Forearm resting on his tall blazered shoulders
This is forgivable in the young
Those teeny-boppers with defiant hair-cuts and posters
However, he has peppered hair
She, though voluptuous and tanned,
Must be in her 30s.
“Affair.”
My cynical devil snickers, between sips
But I sit mesmerized, and for the first time ever
Envious.
The chairs and the tables somehow seem more distant
The song now sounds as if it’s funneled through some crackling phonograph
The very light disentangles itself from stones
It’s as if a sky has opened up in my chest
Flying high overhead, one lone raven,
Its slow shadow
Gliding across my heart
Oh, how I miss you
5 states away
I see your smile on magazine covers
I vaguely sniff your scent on passing women
Yet you remain elusive - immaterial, haunting,
While this visceral assault
Leaves me bewildered - empty
An echo in a chiaroscuro cavern
Fading for thee
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 5:31 PM UTC
My lips can no longer hold back.
The muted tones cannot bring out the infinity that hides
discretely
points
to an exit sign.
Certainty waves goodbye. My only function now is to collapse it.
To put the past behind.
The barred doors allow the bottleneck to tighten for a few hours,
but memory has a way of sounding the alarm in the morning
when the early birds rise,
armed with ancient lessons
that remind me they're the ones who are eating well.
I want to come up from the dirt and drink from the well.
My low-life self can no longer heed the worm's advice:
"Sleep all day and you won't get eaten."
Out.
Out with your tepid voice and halfway disposition.
Out with your elevated mind, your profound commitment to the mediocre task
of enlightening the little people.
The empire you fabricate may stay stitched for a while.
But the clothes of emperors always burst at the seams.
A workaholic, addicted to the common
you're winning your converts with tired dreams, vicarious imaginings of those finer roads, well tread by shoes that are not your own.
You don't believe in the masses. Fine. But get the **** off
your throne.
Reciting badly drawn poems at four in the morning
(it could have been worse e.g. I could have wrote "mourning")
looking to insight myself,
not into a passionate frenzy
like Bacchae drunk on the moonlight.
No -- I want piercing red. That's what I want to be.
Want to show the heavens how I use the precious wine.
Sip it.
Out the undulations go.
Sweating out the great myth that time forgets when it flows.
My pagan-witch ego has put me on the hunt for blood tonight,
and the full moon is giving rise to ****** undulations,
washing up teeny-book explanations
of loves once lost.
But I'm far from my being,
and from the infinite ocean.
And the only sound I can hear right now is my one hand clapping at the curtain call,
retiring my broom,
bowing goodbye.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
a babe
having a baby
thinking all is just rosy
cute lil nose
wiggly toes
soft skin
cute laugh
fashionable clothes
teeny, tiny shoes
in all colors...
little hands reaching
to capture your heart
then...
ear shattering screams
dream stomping cries
wretchedly soiled diapers
colic
chicken pox
measles
mumps
ear ache
tooth aches
bruised knees
stitched cuts
school friends
best friends
bullies
first loves
soft crying from her room
but always
always
little hands reaching
to capture your heart.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
The assassins hit in 63
And Camelot was gone,
Inspiration vanished
And the darkness sang it’s song.
*Vietnam escalated
Brezhnev’s Russia loomed,
Africa was eviscerated
And Red China entombed.
*Floating on a long white cloud
The Kiwis were replete
With abundant British markets
For their butter, wool and meat.
*The Europeans went ****
And Britain lost it’s way
When the Beatles and the Rolling Stones
Monopolized their day.
*Man landed on the moon
And raised the Yankee flag
And they shot Mahatma Ghandi
For making good things out of bad.
*The Berlin Wall dividing,
The Cold War tense and spare,
ICBM’s threaten silently
In their silos of despair.
*Bob Menzies ruled Australia
As an amassing of his loot
And his White Australia Policy
Condemned him as a brute.
*Found naked on her tousled bed,
Blonde hair across her face,
Marylin Monroe is dead
The world’s a darker place.
*In the Age of Aquarius
Our children lost their youth,
LSD and smoking ***
And Afro’s were the proof.
*Lots of leg in miniskirts,
High bouffant’s in the hair,
Screaming teeny boppers
Rock with Elvis on “the Air”.
*Giant, Rawhide, Ponderosa,
Martin Luther King,
Kaftans and a cheese fondue,
Abortion is a sin!
It’s a sixties kaleidoscope,
A panoramic skim
Of an era of wonderment
Which you and I lived in.
Marshalg
@the Gate
Mangere Bridge
20th January 2009
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 2:25 PM UTC
Eyes open into newness
And find a smile
Dimpled giddy
With the happiness
That took only one look to awaken
And one little life to nurture.
Nine months worth of waiting
Melt into a promise of forever.
My love for you is an endless
Beautiful thing.
Bigger than the both of us
Loud and bellowing.
But I whisper it
because I want to let you sleep.
Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 4:41 AM UTC
In my perfectly painted room
All my books in order
on my painstakingly clean shelf
Not a speck of dust
Everything is spotless
All of the artwork on my walls
straight and alligned
I look around happily
making teeny little adjustments
just to make sure
it's perfect
And then I realize
everything
is
crooked
Jan 2, 2011
Jan 2, 2011 at 3:58 PM UTC
I really have no time for this. It's not real. I don't want to flirt. I don't want to have to dress nice for you to notice me, to give me a second glance. I don't want you to be my prince charming or mi knight in shining armor. I don't want to be naked for you to see me. I don't want to have to pretend that I like that ******** I want us to be real. I don't want to put up with society's crap. I want to actually be happy and enjoy my life. I don't want us to work according to the plan. Rules that aren't written down, yet somehow they make their way into our lives. They ***** it up from the beginning. I don't want you to be perfect. I don't want us to be perfect. Not by society standards, at least. I know that as long as I love you you'll be perfect in my eyes. So, why do we bother with the other useless things? When I look at you, I don't want to be looking at a soulless, ripped, mindless guy whose biggest concern is being socially accepted and hitting on girls and drinking shots and crashing parties. I haven't and won't date that kind of guy. EVER. I just can't bring myself to like that kind of person (not that I want to).
I want someone that I can be comfortable with. Someone who looks after me but not because he disbelieves in my strength, but because he can't stand the mere idea of loosing me. I want him to understand me, I want us to have long talks. I want us to cry, laugh and play like idiots. I want us to have little play-fights, that kind of arguments that are based in pointless ideas and always end up in a kiss. I want to be able to share everything with him. I want us to be best friends. I want us to know each other so that we can fully trust one another. I need the guy to be there for me. I need it to be real. I need it to be love. True love. Not those fake little relationships destined to failure. Those filled with jealousy, replacing trust, self-confidence and respect. I know I sound like an old conventional lady, rambling like this about such hideous teeny tiny details. But life's all about details. If not, everyone's lives would be incredibly monotone and that would be disgusting. Different is beautiful. That's why nobody is better than you. You deserve someone who gets that and treats you right. You deserve to be happy, just as everyone else does.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 11:44 AM UTC
I walked a thousand mile
to a wishing well, surrounding Nile
just to make a gigantic wish
for a tiny, teeny, little smile
06/24/2015
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
THE DOUBLE moon, one on the high back drop of the west, one on the curve of the river face,
The sky moon of fire and the river moon of water, I am taking these home in a basket, hung on an elbow, such a teeny weeny elbow, in my head.
I saw them last night, a cradle moon, two horns of a moon, such an early hopeful moon, such a child's moon for all young hearts to make a picture of.
The river-I remember this like a picture-the river was the upper twist of a written question mark.
I know now it takes many many years to write a river, a twist of water asking a question.
And white stars moved when the moon moved, and one red star kept burning, and the Big Dipper was almost overhead.
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Evil
Clinging
Monsters
They haunt you
They scare you
They want to take over your world
They come
Disguised
In
Teeny
Weeny
Packages
Looking harmless
Luring you into their trap
And then they drag you d
And then they make you f o
a w
l n
l
You can't escape
Their menacing grip
You know they're growing
A colony strong
Finding allies
They're out to crush
You
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 11:16 AM UTC
I’ve always looked at dancing girls.
I think that all men do.
I drool at scenes
Like tight blue jeans–
Until they fade from view.
Where pretty girls are showcased
I’m sure to raise a toast
Cause a derriere
Might make me stare
Till I become a ghost.
And, yes, it’s like a candy store
When beauties crowd the beach
Because a teeny
And snug bikini
Make my right and left eyes meet.
For I lo-o-o-o-o-ve to goggle long long legs
Whereever I may roam
And if they're cute
I will weigh the fruit
But I always boogie home
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 7:09 PM UTC
Just the other day
I met Robert Goulet
I was surprised a bit
The way his mustache twitched
A mind of its own
Like in the Twilight Zone
Jumping right off his face
His mustache ran away
Teeny boppers next door
Giggled out of control
As Roberts mustached jumped
Landing in someones lunch
That's when the Maítre ď
Let out a girly scream
Quite an embarrassment
To all us burly men
Then throughout the day
The mustache of Robert Goulett
Made a name for itself
As it ventured about town
His mustache all could see
Has a tinder streak
Helping old ladies out
To get across the street
Why it even saved a cat
Giving all its nine lives back
Pulled it from a tree
That was burning excessively
At that same moment saved the town
Itself from burning down
But that story's much to long
To try to abound
The town was so impressed
They trimmed up the mustache
Of Robert Goulett
Then gave it a ticker tape parade
After that they named a street
Because of its heroic feat
If it had two hands to greet
Would have handed it the city's key
And if the mustache could talk at all
Would have given the greatest speech
If Roberts mustache had only known
It'd do this good out on its own
It would have left the upper lip
Along time ago
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
Everybody died today,
metamorphosis - never completed.
Maturity entrapped the folks,
even the children, teeny, tiny babes,
The stars never danced in their eyes;
the sky wouldn't allow Starry Nights.
I only ever told stories, those Wisdoms
passed on from my grandpap,
dissed in the corners of the streets,
I look up for my internal stars
and wish these people would combust
and finally clear the air
so my grandpap could breathe.
he only wanted to be heard
7/30/14
PPropper
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
But then that Bronze you would Commercialise
Out of those Hands which reimbursed your Win
Need not be Displayed; For Humble concise
The Best Blown Victory embraces your Skin
Like that Gold-Dresser his Scriptures resume
Though unexpected Prime Tarriff despite
Saw this Next Call for Excitement subsume
For the Corvocado Christ he'll incite
And as for you, to Teeny-Bopps you relate
And Promote your Sport as a Pop-Ear's Rage
With Some at-risk, masturbed and hate
The Artist's Garden stolen for corsage.
There are certain Themes which need no Reform
That if we do, such Gremlins we Transform.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:21 AM UTC
(sung to "If I Only Had a Brain/Heart/Courage" song from the Wizard of Oz)
I'm a ****** ***********
altho I seem quite merry,
I am always causing strife.
I've a rot for a banana,
But I'd smoke the whole Havana,
if I only had a LIFE!
I just love to cause division,
By other's lives derision,
I'll cause gossip to be rife!
It don't matter! I am toothful,
I don't claim to be that truthful,
If I only had a LIFE!
I would love ta get ta know ya,
But I smoke like Krakatoa,
You could cut it with a knife.
I will put it in my ashtray
And conclude another entry
if I only had a LIFE!
I've no girlfriend, it don't matter,
I'm as loony as a hatter,
I will never have a wife.
I've a teeny weeny shooter,
Can't make love to my computer,
IF I ONLY HAD A LIFE!!
SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/20/2015
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
Today my name is fire
Burning taller than oak trees;
I started when a little spark
had caught a little breeze.
I’m burning hot, very mad
‘Cause they told me to cease;
But they can’t stop me , nor control me;
No animal would dare come near me.
Now that I am water,
I’m calm as calm can be;
I flow on down the river ‘till
I reach the calm vast sea.
Healing, calming, life giving
Are things that I perform;
Though soothing aches is easer
When my heart is warm.
Now they call me air
And I’ll say this to you;
You just may not see me here
But you see what I can do.
Cooling, moving, breath taking
When I am fairly light;
But when I’m confused, spinning ‘round
It’s a very tragic sight
Now I go by earth,
And right here’s where I’ll stay;
I’ll stand right here, high, rough and tough
Every single day.
I’m hard to move, you can’t shift me,
Not one teeny, tiny bit;
You can’t deal with a stubborn rock
That’s had a little fit.
So for the future you should know
To never ever try me
‘Cause you may never ever know
Which element I might be
Mad as fire, stubborn rock
Or water, calm and still
Free as air you never know
The way that I feel
#2_ 2011
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 10:17 AM UTC
After a lot to negotiate
toing and froing
you exchanged your teeny heart
for my bag of 18-something stones
I carried it home in a hurry
much lighter than I expected
for what looked like a big cherry
it was shaking when I checked it
I worried at its odd little quivering
a bit timid and nervy
like a leaf blown from its tree
but happy to have a new owner in me
I nestled it carefully
in my mother's best white sheets
but was scared to see
it start to bleed quite a bit
not that it might die
but about what my mother would say
about the red in the laundry
and what she might tell her mother
if she got it back needing a doctor
I decided to pat it
with a towel to keep it dry
no even better
shower it each day
keep it a bit moist
sprinkle it with Eau de Toilette
every morning blow it a kiss
like having a sweet pet
to greet after I shave
I wanted to rub my hands with glee
but it needed treating with kid gloves
and exercised in carefree handling
but first I had to squeeze it
not hard in case it burst
just in the middle bit
around its plumped up waist
it felt soft and squidgy
and beat quite quickly
not like my stones
I wrapped it up in a cooler
using styrofoam
aluminium foil
and a brown paper bag...
Styrofoam is a good insulator
and will keep the love from oozing out
the aluminium foil is a heat reflector
and the paper bag I am not sure about
but grocery stores offer them
to put your ice cream in
so it doesn't melt as fast
I had a meal of cheese on toast
then returned to check my box
your heart was not there to be seen
isolated in polystyrene
O dear I wished I'd cut a window
giving it room to see it grow
but then I spied you in the garden
painting stones to a wondrous glow
so lovely I traded back my carton
and your heart lit up inside for me
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
Are we not brought up, in stories?
Stories of hero worship, dark fearful nights
Soft tender tears, hot red lips
Fairy Mothers, frightful demons
Realms where magic and realism
Locked us up for a perpetual inter-play
Growing up and ‘living’ a story
Is all about the Story teller
Fearful ‘Dracula’ who entered my teeny nights
Was made up this unpredictable predator
By the cousin Story teller, than
Bram Stoker, as I learned later
Much after ‘Leslie and Richard’
Went their own ways
I stayed with the Soul mate;
“Bridge across Forever”
It was the story that I lived in,
Faith blinded, in the Story teller!
Teller can make you up and pull you down
A hero today is villain tomorrow
Abandoned fury; Bereft emotions
Erratic desires; Impromptu positions
Mix and shake them well
Teller can rapt a discerning listener
Teller can also cast a spell with the story
With made-up faces and un-made-up minds
Hewing a profile with vicarious feelings
With deceitful facts and illusory events
Teller webs a story, you ‘live in’
‘Make believe’; but beautiful!
Then one day, listener grows out of the story
Magic fades and sanity sets in
Tears turn phony, Lies lay bare
“The Gift was kept by my parents”
Said the Kid, “not by Santa Clause”.
Let that ‘wake up’ not hurt forever
Stories are told by Story teller
Characters seldom given to testify
A beginning and end carefully crafted
A long route that can have ‘twists in the tale’
I am learning to listen to stories as ‘Stories’
Not life in essence, every time.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 2:40 AM UTC
In our land of golden wattle,
I'll unstopper a bottle,
Uncork a magic genie,
Appearing cute and teeny,
She looks quite delicious,
Granting us three wishes
For Oz, quite ambitious,
What'll we wish for today?
In this magical genie way,
First, let's wish for full employment,
Then, an end for our youth deployment
In the Middle East, futile beast,
Last, we'll all wish for global peace,
Our wishes the genie does release,
I shall unstopper this magic bottle,
For our land of golden wattle!
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
THE CHICK in the egg picks at the shell, cracks open one oval world, and enters another oval world.
"Cheep ... cheep ... cheep" is the salutation of the newcomer, the emigrant, the casual at the gates of the new world.
"Cheep ... cheep" ... from oval to oval, sunset to sunset, star to star.
It is at the door of this house, this teeny weeny eggshell exit, it is here men say a riddle and jeer each other: who are you? where do you go from here?
(In the academies many books, at the circus many sacks of peanuts, at the club rooms many cigar butts.)
"Cheep ... cheep" ... from oval to oval, sunset to sunset, star to star.
1.7k
it's the little things
that please me
color coded my earbuds
so I know my right from my left
in the pitch black.
it's the little things
that please me,
and the big things
that defeat me.
I'm rich in itty-bittys
**There are no definitions available for itty-bittys.
Did you mean:
itsy-bitsy titbits itty-bitty-butts?**
yeah,
all three, thanks for doing the writing for me.
some-a-day,
gonna get me a big big closet,
a whole closet room,
to store my itty bittys teeny weeny
tidbits riches.
if I make it to
some-a-day,
just can't find it on my calendar,
but every morning
I wake to big things
wishing me cruelly
have-a-nice-day.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
I know I'll miss these times once they're sung
The days are busy when they're so young
Little ones that pull on skirts,
Teeny ones held in your shirt
Selflessness we must meet, in order to be built
Recline in the sun's heat, spring flowers bloom and wilt
Everything in its time, these moments will pass
Change another bedsheet, sacrifice and submit
Slow and let your eyes meet, let these sweet moments sit
Everything in its time, these moments will pass
A love so natural, it will not be ignored
It flurries us to higher places and with the air it swings
A love so natural, it demands to be poured
So deep it actually aches, singing sweetly while it stings
Offenses laughable, their silly peccadillos I secretly smile at
Yet they are teachable, I'll raise them to face the world and evil to combat
Innocent little transgressions
My dearest little possessions
I rebuke, I correct, the love goes on, I'll cherish our time while here
Time feels ensconced, but with the dawn, our time will have disappeared
Jun 7, 2024
Jun 7, 2024 at 2:12 AM UTC