"thems" poems
Note to Self (and Grace)
________________
the simplest bottom line that tops off,
a writ that begins and ends
with its title of
perfect clarity.
in my brief unremarkable existential passage
the enemy within needs our greatest concentration,
the floods, the pretty ravages, that come unannounced,
from outside creeping in
time-slow and life-sudden,
can't do much about
but the friendly enemies residing in the places hiding
where we have'em close kept, so handy for an instant
royal summons,
thems the apples poisoned we got to worry about,
the ones we grew from a tree planted from seeds in a package that came with a friendly note from the
Surgeon General saying,
**"burn the contents of this container,
you'll never finish paying if you let them get planted,"**
and yes,
it is 1:54am wide awake and still dying slow
a bit daily,
laughing that I entered myself in a race crazy,
where I am a
a guaranteed loser
so we end where we were born,
let it go.
survive, the (dis)order of the day
and it is
2:10am on just another Thursday,
that will end in the accord
of its own discord
<£>
2:14am
"just one phone call from our knees."
Matt Kearney
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 2:23 AM UTC
this person i know
wants to be called they
it could bring us much closer
to see them that way
its a strange thing to think
and harder to say
but they is so happy
when the effort is made
to all the theys and thems
it is this i pray
we be kind and accepting
and just let them be they
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 9:41 AM UTC
BRITAIN HAD BREXIT NOW
BRITAIN IS NOW HUNG
OH MY GOD THERESA MAY
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE
NOW AFTER BREXIT THERESA MAY YOU SHOULD
HAVE KNOWN HOW THE PEOPLE WOULD VOTE
NOW YOU ARE IN TROUBLE THERESA MAY
UP THE THEMS WITHOUT A BOAT
NOW YOU HAVE TO RUN GOVERNMENT
WITH POLITICIANS YOU DON'T LIKE
I REALLY NOW THINK THERESA MAY
YOU WILL BE ON YOUR BIKE
SO THE MORAL OF THE STORY
IS NEVER SIT BACK AND GLOAT
BECAUSE YOU NEVER EVER KNOW
HOW THE U.K. CITIZENS WILL VOTE
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 9:20 AM UTC
i used to be like you. now i'm like me. and then some.
been some fun . with only
one sun and
one moon to run from
when the sky
is people
and all steeples
are non-flyers
we have priors
but know
porcelain and sea-foam.
been undone.
and
dead of Night
prone.
of no use
and no fun. on one lung.
for two
demons.
thems that be numb be numb ones and not none that feel some.
they feels none. and not one shuns but
some be done with one love. and then some...
then someone's
the next no one
and then
what ?
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 6:47 PM UTC
People passing up
opportunities
for playfulness
****** off
I say
've
had it
with
serious you
with
fearful you
with
stuck in you
you
Oh and
Broken fuckin' hearted u
too
So if
any of thems
U?
Unpack your funny bone
and slap the universe
in the ***
with it
Nothing changes
Of course
Except
You're laughing
Making
you
Okay even
fun
tha's way better
an' more tractive
Fun Now
Getting you
to listen
to me
talking to myself
and thinkin'
's 'bout you
when
's not
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
money in it money out what is life all about
scrimp and save for what we hear
life in homes for old dears
yet we plod along the way
nodding on no futures grace
money rules money hurts
thems the rules aint life a b#tch
Mar 4, 2011
Mar 4, 2011 at 2:30 AM UTC
You know that furry animal
that tucks its little baby
into its front pocket
and bounces down
the middle of our main streets
and appears on our bills
and coins?
Thems good eats!
yum
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
Writin rhymes on this ***** *** peice of paper, cuz I ain't got nothin else, I'm in this game, I'm not alone but I am by myself, I'll never stop runnin' my mouth, not even the day that my heart dies out, fightin' through the anger, the pain, after this situation, things have changed, this ain't a friendly game, cuz when life pushes, I'm pushin back, I'll never go quietly, after I been hurt, it's my turn to snap back, like a bulldog whern someone steals his bone, right outta of my life from under my nose, Ima sniff you out, you won't ever hear me comin, and once you do finally see me it's time to start runnin, cuz if I find you im strappin you down, ain't lettin you leave again, I'll be all over you like a surround sound, I loved you baby girl more than i can take, It grows stronger with every breath I make, Don't lie I know you love me too, I know you won't admit it yourself but won't you? I'm sayin' it right, I'm chasin two dreams and one of thems you, I want my second chance, to do right, be better, and enhance, and finally be the man, prince charming, heart warming, cuddle while it's rain storming, your mine, I'm shootin for the stars but if i reach the sky, good enough for me as long as you there to help me fly.
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 3:36 AM UTC
At night
I lie under the darkest cloud
I lie in a storm
I lie in brightness
I lie alone.
At night
I miss
I miss the loud
I miss the quiet
I miss chaos
But,
I don't miss.
arms entwined
around each other
I see them
but I don't see me.
silent whispers
and unspoken looks
I see them
but I don't see me
noise and chaos
is what I have
and what I want
similar in their definitions
however,
in a parallel universe.
But then
I see him and him and him and him
I see them all
and I see me
I see darkness
and I see hunger
and I see no spark
I see both
seeping the drastic differences
absorbing the realities
dreaming the dreams.
I see me, and I see them
both thems are different
but I'm not.
When I want to be them
I see the other them
and I see me
and then I realize
that the them could be either.
but the me,
is me.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 7:04 AM UTC
If you don't wanna understand it, don't.
You're not held to comprehension.
If you don't want to agree, don't.
You're not held to a thing in discussion.
If you don't want to think, don't.
You're still liable for your actions.
If you don't want to speak, don't.
You're still liable for its consequences.
Personally? Don't have a fit,
I don't give a ****
Smell the flowers!
Apr 28, 2025
Apr 28, 2025 at 8:17 PM UTC
Small Tales
by Michael R. Burch
When Artur and Cai and Bedwyr
were but scrawny lads
they had many a ***** adventure
in the still glades
of Gwynedd.
When the sun beat down like an oven
upon the kiln-hot hills
and the scorched shores of Carmarthen,
they went searching
and found Manawydan, the son of Llyr.
They fought a day and a night
with Cath Pulag (or a screeching kitten),
rousted Pen Palach, then drank a beer
and told quite a talltale or two,
"till thems wasn’t so shore which’un’s tails wus true."
And these have been passed down to me, and to you.
According to legend, Arthur and Kay grew up together in Ector’s court, Kay being a few years older than Arthur. Borrowing from Mary Stewart, I am assuming that Bedwyr (later Anglicized to Bedivere) might have befriended Arthur at an early age. By some accounts, Bedwyr was the original Lancelot. In any case, imagine the adventures these young heroes might have pursued (or dreamed up, to excuse tardiness or “lost” homework assignments). Manawydan and Llyr were ancient Welsh gods. Cath Pulag was a monstrous, clawing cat. (“Sorry teach! My theme paper on Homer was torn up by a cat bigger than a dragon! And meaner, too!”) Pen Palach is more or less a mystery, or perhaps just another old drinking buddy with a few good beery-bleary tales of his own. This poem assumes that many of the more outlandish Arthurian legends began more or less as “small tales,” little white lies which simply got larger and larger with each retelling. It also assumes that most of these tales came about just as the lads reached that age when boys fancy themselves men, and spend much of their free time drinking and puking! Keywords/Tags: King Arthur, boy, boyhood, ***** drinking, beer, ale, tall tales, Wales
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 12:50 AM UTC
The Fringle comes
in brawly runs
inside thweem drums
and peppanuns
In am big
You us thems
Filet see
US cows
Derivative equated
To Dis one time
Remove the s from integral
Dis integrate
Cal, cul, us
m, t, e,
My
Thermometer
Exercises
The right
to remain
in silence
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 12:21 AM UTC
poem by the hour,
no need to shower
us thus
he selfie critiques,
I do, I do,
or else it would be a
Poem~By~The~Minute
look at the banner photo,
see the tablet self composing,
the list of would-be,
coming soon someday,
an arms length long
list of almost finished compositions,
composing me in motion
the tablet on lap resting,
yes, in his semi~famous bus,
see the trees in the upper right,
window reflecting, they too
have come to peek~see poems
writing themselves
by that fluorescent light
dividing thems in progress from
them ones not ready for prime time
don't try to make out the words,
they will be sited soon enough,
in the meantime, a sip of
milky coffee between
poem breathes
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
I's don' really know much
only how to cook and clean
fa ma marster's and they chillun
they tries to teach me to read
i's neva liked the white folks edumucation
so I's just stay in the field
spend time with the sun
until the moon comes
and take me on away
das my's only time to heal
from the scars they puts on my skin
from the scars they puts in my mind
from the scars they puts on my family
my brothers and nem
I's wonder all the time
will we ever be free?
I's think of it everyday
cant wait for it to be
Mama always worked in the kitchen
but she has her fav spot
next to the chimney she a sit
listen to the white folks talk
I's pray all the time she ont get caught
one day she heard sumn
mussa been real good
Is seen her smiling
as Jesus himself gon an got mama a new dress
but I's know ha smile na
tha day she sats in a corner listnin'
she hurds them finely' say we's free
we's free
but marster wouldnt let us go
she herd' em tell mistus
he wont let us free till me make sommo'
for thems to eat
but mama hops out that chimey corner
jumps to her feet
I's herd' ha yelling
"I's free I's free'
"then she runs to the field 'gainst marster's will
and tol' all the other slaves n they quit work"
I's seen all the hoes and rakes falls to the dirt
dat nite ma slip out the house
like a banana was at da do'
she hids' in the ditch
I's get snuck out my bed
next I's in mamas arms
I's look at mama's tied' feet
running so fast
to chase her freedom
I's hear shots from *****
dem dogs barking n growlin'
Lord please keep mama safe
and the Lord hears ma prayas'
cause' that nite
afta alls the yelling cryin' n sweating
me and mama
we finely gits away
Copy Right 2020
©PoeticPat
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
It's my humble opinion that humility will **** you.
You're trapped in a cult of positivity, kid;
and, there ain't no end in sight there.
If people were meant to be happy all the time,
the chemistry of our brains would done figured that for us.
And in that, there's something to be said about being sad.
The only way to beat your demons is to out perform them.
Hell, the whole of human literature hints at that.
And, it's my humble opinion that baking humble pie
is a death march for the destitute.
It's times like these you gotta get cocky.
Besides, women like that sort of man.
"Find the things you love and let them **** you."
Ol' Hank was right when he said that.
Taken further, you gotta seek out the things you hate,
and be prepared to duel until one of you expires.
You gotta outrank, outfile and outcast thems that drags you down.
No more saying "hi" to the bees to let 'em know you ain't scared.
The bees you're fighting sure as **** don't care.
You once told me:
"when you've had enough of getting the **** kicked out of you
well, then it was time to start kicking some ****
You better lace up them boots, boy.
Or, you'll have more trouble than you can bargain.
The easy outs ain't so easy, the older we get.
Self reliance makes a joke out of playing fair -
it simply out preforms it.
And, that isn't selfish when you remember that the world won't always bend down and hug you.
Most of the time, it just punches your guts in.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:41 AM UTC
There he is, asleep in his house
There you are, asleep on my bed
just waiting for me
I smile because the sweet fragrance
of sweet lilies and passion
that lines your neck has already
permeated the room and it hits me as soon as I walk in
I lay behind you and wrap my arms around your
far too familiar waistline that my fingers
know far better than my logic should allow
You scoot farther into me knowing I’ll protect you
Protect you from the thems, hims, and occasional hers
You know I’d never let anything harm you because
my warm body behind you tells you
I reach for my Panda and when I turn back
I come to the harsh realization
that you put Everclear in my drink last night
It’s ok, it was a good dream anyway
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 12:35 PM UTC
Sometimes I wonder
Is this even real?
what if it's a dream,
a coma,
what if we're already dead?
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
**** you.
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 3:30 AM UTC
The days I've wasted comparing myself
Could've gone to building my own skill wealth
To my own talent, blind, only focused on them
Thought no value in me, but believing them gems.
Rack my brains, put on masks, try to emulate all.
Climbed their ladders, not mine, and everytime, fall.
"Why can't I be like these people so great?"
Listen, you are, but their gifts aren't your fate.
You've been looking around, never looking inside.
You've got talent galore, but it's something you hide.
Learn from them but don't try to become what they are.
They aren't you, YOU are you. You're the best You by far.
We've got plenty of Thems, we don't need any more.
What we need is a YOU. Never had one before.
They were each gifted talents unique in their own.
We can't all do the special things others have shown.
But neither can they do the things you can do.
That's why they're YOUR talents. It's what makes you YOU.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 12:43 AM UTC
So you take a 'selfie' and
then you text me
as if
you're number one,
but number one went long ago.
I know you do it just for show and
show it 'cause you can, but
please go text it someone else
for I'm a busy man.
The image I see is sex-ually
explicit
and here
I tell no lie, but
why send it to me
I have things to do and
looking at you is not on the list.
Something's been missed between now and two thousand and six and it's obviously not the most explicit of pics, but it's not about those or these or thems or anything else seen through the camera's lens,
it is more about you and the things that you do and the high and the low of it being put out on show it must be a madness, an affliction, every picture a work of your own self in fiction
and then you text me.
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 12:56 PM UTC
the boys
my crew
my squad
the boys
in the bag
hanging
I got two
thems my
family jewels
and I cradle
them in silk
drawers
and get
real protective
of thems
at times
I pick up
things using
my legs
I scratch
ems
I keep
em cool
cause they
say too
warm can
be harmful
I shaved
ems once
what a
mistake
They got
itchy as
all get-out
Then I
got old
and they
hung to
my knees
and got
pretty unsightly
I look
on the
bright side
and thank
whomever
it was
that invented
the cup
and baggy
jeans!
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 11:51 PM UTC
spending to much time thinking about the ¨thems¨
about what matters to ¨them¨
they tell you to be anything you want
yet its them that are tearing us apart
its them that tell you your not good enough
you believe them
you´re nothing in their eyes.
but you wonder who you´ll be without them
you´ll finally be good enough without them
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 1:24 PM UTC
counted to one second
three of thems
forgot the next
had to take a breath
say I got dizzy
and sat down
all thems was hiding
got tired too
as they came close
to home I tagged them
what a trickster I was
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 3:21 AM UTC
When she's at her best, so am I.
When he rocks the world, I'm right by his side.
When they strike just the right chord, I'm there strumming along.
When she is under the weather, my umbrella tries to cover us both.
When her smile fades, my smile is wiped blank too.
However one fear remains. In the chaos of empathy, when I am laid bare, am I still I?
Or have I become all the he's, she's, they, and thems that I appear to mimic.
Am I still I? Or is I like my shadow? Something that only exists because of another?
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 11:03 PM UTC
They’d signed on for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health,
Though they’d never dreamed that poor and sick
Would arrive with such ferocity,
Such vengeance, such utter malice.
Difficult to say how they found their way
To this particular section of down:
Too little of a taste for the three R’s, too much for two-buck chuck,
The whys, wherefores, and timelines not mattering much
When you’re falling ass-over-teacup Jack-and-Jill style down life’s hill.
They’d tumbled far enough to be holed up
In the front room of a structure approximating a house
Down on Elizabeth Street,
Looking like a Home Sweet Home a six-year old might draw,
Stairs, doorways, and window casings
All uneven and madly impressionist,
The thing not particularly successful at being air or water-tight
(If the folks from animal welfare found a dog in the place,
They’d be likely to go in and get it somewhere safe.)
They are huddled under what sheets and afghans
The nuns from Saint Rose were able to cobble together for them
And so they lay in ancient and unsteady sofa-like objects,
All but unable to move
(Though if he groans and thrashes enough to bare arms and legs,
She will summon something from somewhere
And painfully shuffle over to him
To retrieve and re-arrange his coverings)
Nowhere to go, no one to go see or to come see them,
Little left to do but wait for God
(*Closer to Jordan than the Hudson,
Far as rivers go*, he is wont to say)
To belatedly disburse some mercy, divine or otherwise,
Then to be pine-boxed and potter’s-fielded.
They have never see fit to ask any why-thems:
Little time for such luxuries, perhaps,
Or maybe the questions and answers simply more of a burden
Than the already over-burdened can bear,
Or maybe, as she said to one of the nuns
Who comes now and then to do what little they can,
*Lord reveals things to us in a whisper,
And an angry stomach and shiverin’ bones
Conspire to make such a woeful noise*.
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
There are only two types of people in the world
Thems that do
Thems that don't
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 9:14 PM UTC