"tidier" poems
I am as I always have been;
Here, just never present.
Easier that way,
For us all,
preferable even.
Certainly tidier.
Clean your mess up! you tell me.
I've tried
I'll try again
I pick up the duster
I open the curtains
But the light creeps in
When I don't want it there at all
And when I don't come home for a while
And when I don't ever leave
The dust finds a way back to it's favourite resting spots.
Clean it yourself!
If you would want it clean.
I wouldn't let you though.
For your benefit, my sweet.
I'm protecting you from all kinds of spiders.
May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 3:28 AM UTC
I wish there was a better way to say I just cut myself again
a tidier way,
something that makes it sound less morbid and a bit more romantic
like barbados
like *** on the beach
for the irony of sabotaging a fling of intimacy for myself
sabotaging swimsuit and short-shorts season
I don’t want anyone to touch me
or even look at me
anyway
so it’s all in my favour
with
nails that are painted colourful like clowns
and there’s a red and white polkadot bow in my hair
personally, I think it’s kind of funny
that when people look through a kaleidoscope, all they see is
pretty colours instead of shards of broken glass
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Nine is still hugging-new-kitten time
filled with loud giggles, school-loving fun days,
a pig-tailing best time for friend-making.
Nine likes browsing through pages
of favourite tales curled up warm as toast, shawl
clad or napping on Dad's welcome lap.
An eye-on-best-chance-time is nine
for young girlish schemers, secretive play-time,
torchlight snacks with sleep-over pals.
Grown from doll-cuddling but baby
crazy lipstick-red nine acts the high-heeled lady
then raids Mum's bed for cosy snuggles
Life swiftly draining under-ten days
brings teenager-cool ways but not for a while,
beauty at nine has an innocent charm.
When that nine-candled cake makes
its sugary entrance I wish, as she bends closer
to blow months more maiden delight.
But just a reminder dear daughter
being nine still means early nights, clean teeth,
earned treats and a tidier room please.
(Written for a friend a few years ago)
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
This is not the best haiku in the world ...
... its just a tribute.*
(to HaikuDonnajones and her Dean).
.
At the crack of dawn
me and dean go milk our cows,
pulling the udders.
Our cows milk is good
for cheese, yoghurt and butter,
very nice in tea too.
Vegetarians
are great, make good customers,
Vegans not so good.
What the hell is this
new coconut milk anyway?
Or soya butter?
I don't understand,
its not real dairy goodness,
its all fake dairy.
Our cows are organic,
no artificial cow feed,
just grass and fresh air.
After milking cows
me and dean have our breakfast
to give us energy.
I may turn Veggie,
but love my deans big sausage,
bacon, eggs fry-ups.
Our goats have kids to,
tidier than our own lot,
don't complain as much.
Me and dean are happy
with our kids, cows and our goats,
on our dairy farm.
© Pagan Paul (01/04/18)
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 8:09 AM UTC
sweetly swimming
in the colder tides of
emptiness—
tidier than the backseat and
your umbrellas; tidier
than the rolling crests of
suburbia;
tidied by the frayed smoothness
of sea.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC
it'll get bad reviews, we should scrap the project before it breaks the budget
we sit and talk
art and beauty, love and fear
my heart cracking open,
and you, rushing in.
we sit and talk,
play at the deadly game
ignore the consequences
shun the inconsistencies.
the words, words, words
they swirl,
and we slip, we slip, we slip
--its a real cliffhanger
hearts on sleeves
music weaves
stories come to light
secrets, oozing out between
the well crafted lines of
our carefully scripted plot
we sit and talk circles around
the herds of white elephants
that come to watch the show.
mocking us, they laugh
as we tiptoe through
fields of daffodils
under dark skies
with rainbows.
(scene change now)
in dark of night
i squeeze out hope
from my heart.
god ****** hope
twists up and knifes
me in the side, leaves
me bleeding on the floor.
and you, fool you are
rush to my aid.
if you're saving me,
who's saving you?
you with your secret
decoder ring from your
box of caramel corn.
cracking my heart,
you peel my layers.
your questions run deep
but your feet will run faster,
and i'll fall, i'll fall, i'll fall.
gravity's a real drag,
i've felt it's pull before.
me with my third eye
see the pan and play.
this show will end
leaving us all sitting
in our seats wanting
another thirty minutes,
a tidier ending.
this ain't Disney.
we'll feel like we've been
ripped, ripped, ripped
no refunds here,
go file your complaint
with the man upstairs.
the audience stands,
turns to go.
white elephants know there's
no silver lining, no *** of gold.
they threw popcorn at the screen
but you didn't notice.
i always hated white elephants;
i thought you did too.
who invited them to the show?
we step outside,
no curtain call,
no applause
this hail falls down
on a sunny blue day.
afraid to touch you, but
i want to catch you in my mouth.
would you please
just go away
before i end up with lumps
on my head, in my throat?
my eyes blinded by the sun,
the hail, this ill fated show
--bruised orange
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 1:37 AM UTC
'It'll get bad reviews, we should scrap the project before it breaks the budget.'
We sit and talk art and beauty, love and fear,
my heart cracking open, and you,
rushing in.
We sit and talk,
play at this deadly game,
ignore the consequences,
shun the inconsistencies. The
words,
words,
words,
they swirl,
and
we slip,
we slip,
we slip.
It's a real cliffhanger.
Hearts on sleeves,
music weaves,
stories come to light.
Secrets, oozing out between
the well crafted lines of
our carefully scripted plot.
We sit and talk circles around
the herds of white elephants
that come to watch the show.
Mocking us, they laugh
as we tiptoe through fields of daffodils
under dark skies with rainbows.
(Scene change now)
In dark of night
I squeeze out hope
from my heart.
God ****** hope
twists up and knifes
me in the side,
leaves me bleeding on the floor.
And you, fool you are,
rush to my aid.
If you're saving me,
who's saving you?
You, with your secret decoder ring
from your box of caramel corn, cracking
my heart, you peel my layers.
Your questions run deep but your feet will run faster, and
I'll fall,
I'll fall,
I'll fall.
Gravity's a real drag;
I've felt it's pull before.
Me, with my third eye see the pan and play.
This show will end leaving us all sitting in our seats
wanting another thirty minutes,
a tidier ending.
This ain't Disney.
We'll feel like we've been
ripped,
ripped,
ripped.
No refunds here,
go file your complaint with the man upstairs.
The audience stands, turns to go.
White elephants know there's no silver lining,
no *** of gold.
They threw popcorn at the screen, but you didn't notice.
I always hated white elephants;
I thought you did too.
Who invited them to the show?
We step outside,
no curtain call,
no applause.
Hail falls down on this sunny blue day.
Afraid to touch you, but
I want to catch you in my mouth.
Would you please just go away,
before I end up with lumps
on my head,
in my throat?
My eyes blinded by the sun,
the hail,
this ill fated show.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 4:12 AM UTC
The world didn't get worse
your vision just got wider
Al the disruptions on our planet
aren't just because of Al Qaeda
When you were small
bursting crackers was just for fun
The older and more sensible You realizes it chokes our planet
You needn't press the trigger just because you possess the gun
The world was always the same
the corruption was always growing steady
It's up to you which side you want to choose
Let me know when you're ready
Not everything remains the same because
perspectives change as you grow older
You feel sad for the older generation who get cast out
whereas at home you give your parents the cold shoulder
Tale off your ignorant glasses and have a look around you
There is still humanity present
Though it does need a gentle push and
I only see it when things get unpleasant
The more you understand the world
the more you seem to give it hate
I shudder to imagine if there will be
any love left on this planet at this rate
The world didn't get worse
your vision just got wider
The room behind you is clean so that
what you see in front of you is tidier
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 6:26 AM UTC
Aberrant bloom, you doggedly ungrow-
once scarlet, now a pale and formless bud
(much tidier to nip when drained of blood)
writhes grimly down into the earth below.
O! fruitless vine, you hide yourself away,
ashamed to drink the stars' sufficient light-
and so, though worthy in another’s sight,
unworthiness begets a sick decay.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
If I tore apart
What was art
And made it real
Not to conceal
My thoughts and aspirations
Insinuations
Inoculations
My trials and tribulations
Meaning nothing
No education
No learning experience
Forced into labor
Tormented to dance
One supplication
Give a little back of what you took
I wasn't asking for all
Just a sum
Less than you took from me
And I begged, and I pleaded, and you ignored
Well, yesterday you had your chance
You could have been a man
Instead you choose ignorance
*** 'em, *** 'em, *** 'em
*** 'em, *** 'em, *** 'em
Funny language you use
Now I get the name
And why people marry for revenge
Well, there's a fat cat at
Ninety fourth and
Sea Pea Double You
And their doorman is my doormat
And he stains
And he stinks of *** fat
And the bloodstains on your door
Will they silence your high *****
As she bleeds in the high roar
Of the flaming fire down below
Across the Styx
Given every chance I know
But, the fat cat could not let go
Now his friends they talk real low
'bout the crazy guy named joe
How he sits with his cold toes
In a lonely old jail cell
And the fat cat and his kitty
Had a chance, now it's o'er
And the worms feast as they bore
In to fat cat and his kitty
Don't you look at me as bad
For I know what you did was sad
And If I give your girl a name
I owe her that and much more pain
Roll over now or
Turn around
You haven't ears to
Hear this
Sound
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
Baruch met Yehudit
off the bus
it was her half day
off work
and they were going
to spend some time
alone together
as they used to
before they’d' left school
she still had
her work uniform on
and make up
and her hair
was tidier
than it had ever been
can we go
to your place?
she asked
yes sure
the house is empty
until 3.20
she nodded
and they walked up
the road towards
the house
traffic rushing by
the sun warm
in the afternoon sky
hell of a day at work
she said
that manager
kept on at me
this is not how
we do it
he says
that is how
we do it
why is he
such a creep?
Baruch said
he thinks because
he's manager
he can get
girls to do things
but I always
put him straight
and he doesn't like it
that I don't let him
Yehudit said
report the prat
Baruch said
a rook flew noiseilly
over head
she looked up
and down again
who would believe me?
I'm just a 15 year old kid
he’s a respected manager
been there
for 20 odd years
who are they
going to believe?
Baruch frowned
won't any
of the other girls
stick by you?
will they heck
most have slept
with him
they're not going
to show themselves up
as ****** are they?
she said
guess not
he said
they reached the house
and went in
the gate
and along the path
to the back door
and opened up
coffee or tea?
he asked
no
she said
let's not waste time
we only have
about 2 hours
so they went up
the stairs to his bedroom
and undressed
and got into bed
you ok with this?
he said
of course I am
she said
it's not you
I have a problem with
and besides
this is an expression
of my love
he kissed her
and she kissed
his neck
and he took in
her *******
the softness
the smoothness
as he ran his fingers
over them
and his pecker moved
and the room enclosed
and protected them
from the world outside
as they made love
the songs of birds
distant traffic
a ticking clock
her uniform
flung over
a chair
then they lay there
breathless
each moving
in a different world
breathing in
the same air
and on the bed post
hanging
her bright pink
flowered
underwear.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC
This is a Me
(hands indicate the body that they are a part of)
A responsive sock of meats
flush with The Other
and stringy with Thinker
From The Other
opperations may be performed
Within this mix
a View dwells
and this could be said
to be a Me
It's a bit of a confusion
but it can be worked
It could be tidier
With this as thought
The Being makes
a physical step forward
A Me indicated that it ought to
and it did
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 8:17 PM UTC
From the time
I woke up
and went downstairs
my mother moaned.
Lizbeth you have to
make your room tidier
I have never seen
such a room
and your ***** linen
needs putting
in the washing bag
not on the floor.
I ate toast
and tried
to ignore her
looking at her.
Her hair
was a frizzy grey
as if electric
was buzzing
through it
as she spoke.
That black skirt
is too short
she moaned on
my mother would
never have allowed me
to wear such a thing.
The cat was sitting
by the back door
waiting to go out
it was tired
of her moaning too.
I slurp my milk
(just to annoy her)
and said
I am going out.
Out this time
of morning?
she said.
I need to go
see someone
I said.
Who at this time?
she queried.
A boy I like
I said.
Not that boy
who was here
that day
when I got back
from shopping?
she said.
Yes Benny
I said.
At this hour?
she moaned.
He gets
busy later
I lied.
She moaned on
so I crept out
the back door
and let the cat out.
I got out
my bike
and rode off
before she could say
another word.
I peddled fast
like a wild
flying bird.
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 12:17 PM UTC