"tikes" poems
Take me as I am, please
No. Please is too understanding
Take me as I am!
Wait. Maybe that's too demanding?
I don't think we understand each other
Maybe we're over analyzing
It's just that when I look into your eyes I stop
They're hypnotizing
Stop. No. Rewind please!
But I can't, the words are out
Could you give me a backspace button for conversation
That would relieve some doubt
I want you
Argh! Too lustful!
I need you!
ACK! Too needy!
Let's just say the world's a candy jar
And for your jolly rancher I'm greedy?
No? Not subtle? Too subtle? Argh!
Why is it so complicated to speak to you!?!
I'm like a 3 year old whose trying to make a picture out of glitter and glue
And the supplies just keep sticking!
Do you understand what I mean?
I see the perplexed look on your face and...
**** it, woman, you're pretty
Ack! Rewind rewind rewind!
Stupid stupid stupid!
The only way to catch an arrow is to say you DON'T want Cupid
So I don't want you....yes I do.
No I don't!
But I do!
No I don't!
Yes I do!
NO! I! DON'T!
Look at her!!!
....okay, I do.
But you wouldn't give me a second thought if I told that to you
I mean let's face it, you're so out of my league that we're not even in the same sport
I'm playing with the tiny tikes and you're in the pro team's court
But I would be a fool if this wall was all I feel on my fingers
And as perverted as that sounds I let the joke just linger
Because you're beautiful and I'm me
And who am I to attain a girl like you
The boy whose glasses fall down his nose and is missing one or two screws
I just want a dance... and a kiss.... okay, just a dance
No, what I want from you is the guarantee of a second, maybe third glance
To see you in the hallways tomorrow and know I make you smile
To know that you affirm we danced and liked it all the while
I want to be more than wallflower material and I want the prime
So with shaky legs, a corny disco ball, and a bad song, I stand and I greet you
And ask could this dance be mine....?
Your move. Gulp.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 9:58 PM UTC
jack casual was a hard workin' man,
put bread on the table,
kept the roof over our heads,
and kept that dog, nellie, from gettin' 'er sorry be-hind run over.
yep, ol' jack was worth his salt.
he used to play his acoustic for us
when we were tikes,
back when we had an air conditioner.
when it broke down,
ol' gran-pappy,
jack's dad,
had him run out to the store to buy a window unit
and a slurpie.
then pappy would stagnate all day
in the back room while we sweltered,
and he'd send me on errands on my bike,
and read week-old newspapers,
and yell at jack to
"pay the god **** bills"
at four in the morning.
jack wanted to send him to a "home",
but mama never did like them.
she said they were "unsafe",
"unsanitareh",
and "unhospitible".
so gran-pappy stayed.
yes sir-ee, gran-pappy stayed
for three long years
with his banjo
and the growin' pile of slurpie cups in the corner
of that back room where it was cool.
until that one night
when gran-pappy called mama
a name the dog had done learned to respond to,
and mama said,
"jack,
just put him in the home!
a lady shouldn't be treated upon
in this mannuh."
that was the last i ever did see
of ol' gran-pappy,
but i still remember the last words he said to us:
"...and bring me back a slurpie,
it's one hot son of a ***** up in here
and i need somethin'
to cool me off a spell!"
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 3:29 PM UTC
the tranquility of ghosting.
how i crave the slick white sheet hovering inches above the ground, barely swirling as the limbo atmosphere stands lentic, no corporeal body underneath.
how i desire the limited peripheral, two cutout eyes that only let me stare towards the floorboards and kitchen and cutlery i cannot pick up.
how i yearn for the final destination within my house, the ectoplasm that follows me around as a new family crams their stuff into the cabinets, desperate to make my grave smell like home.
how i wish i could float beside them, staring quietly at the little tikes frolicking around the living room couch, eons away from my own state, unaware of my inevitability.
how i long to be unable to pick up the knife, or cup, or shaving razor, or blanket, unable to smother, or stab, or slice, or bash.
from the tranquility of ghosting, the inability to harm is what i want most.
Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 6:55 PM UTC
Stuck in a rut.
Becoming accustomed to this sophomore slump.
Searching for creativity and coming up short.
Avoiding conformity,
I am unable to contort.
To fit the mold of the personality society expects me to be.
To restrict myself to the boundaries you’ve laid out for me.
Trapped in this modern day suburbia
With a dull canvas of street signs and strip malls.
Trying to show creativity by posting eloquent diction on bathroom stalls.
Experimenting with drugs just doin’ it for kicks
Until I kick the bucket that’ll be my ultimate fix.
Searching for something deeper in the trendy tikes that surround me.
It’s like finding a Warhol hung on the pasty wallpaper of a Motel 6, unlikely.
But they’re blinded.
These superficial tendencies are a filter over the eyes of the feeble-minded.
And when I fall into that materialistic wonderland, I stumble
I come back to reality and instantly, I’m humbled.
Uninspired, stuck in this middle class wasteland.
I’m drowning, reaching for a helping hand.
Encapsulated in a series of track homes and industrial lots,
Yearning to venture past these white picket fences;
To stray from these social pretenses.
I’m meant to be more than a big fish wading in this murky puddle.
So, I’ll swim to the depths of the ocean till I find a life style a little less subtle.
And just as I retire from this constant search,
I see a light glimmering in the distance, like fire.
Unaware of what it is but knowing that it holds everything for which I have aspired.
I’ll chase it till my whit’s end, I am inspired.
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 5:09 AM UTC
What's up bruv",
"Chill out bruv',
The social's divided much unloved,
"But thatz so true like",
"Innit like",
Bourgeois reinvented social tikes.
"What about it tho"
"Not at all tho",
Feared difference from the status quo.
"Nah fam",
"Wid de fam",
Cult disciples of instagram.
Communaholics,
Vitriolic,
Diabolic,
Gamesters,
Influencers,
Society's single use redeemers,
"Link me up"
"Whatssup"
The Gen Z get-up.
Mar 10, 2020
Mar 10, 2020 at 8:08 PM UTC
The children of death have landed
silver knives in their hands
ready to **** on his demand
obeying all his commands
They start to chant, we must ****
and by his dark wishes they will
twenty six hundred of the little tikes
out to play out to **** for his delight
They move so fast most never see them coming
they are the revolution all consuming
street by street they maim and slaughter
killing brothers, sisters, sons and daughters
Watch their silver blades in their crimson hue
feel them hacking a slashing to the end of you
hear them sing their black dirge of hate
yet when you hear that, all will be too late
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 5:47 AM UTC
I was rewarded with you
A beautiful flower
Pedals that never meddled
Just grew and viewed
Despite my attitude being rude
You were there when I became president
Watch me sworn in
Only to leave you while I win
You shrink a little but didn’t die
If I said I knew your loyalty
That be a lie
because when I was mr Knight
You stood by my side
When I was trying to get rides
To late night water slides
Your glowed dimmed
But I just press sim
Time seemed to bolt past me
Despite what you saying
I never thought it turn crappie
My friends disappeared
Like a thanos snap
No gauntlet could fix that mishap
My flower begging for my love
I so happily declined
Because the world around me
Kept me quiet like a mime
So her pedals began to fall
Since outside my life was her wall
I had all the likes
Which turned into tikes
Then a social feed
That ended with me under a ****
I had no where to go
Except low
as I sunk
Into my life’s final form
Which was a beautiful tragedy
But I guess call it gravity
Because you stayed down with me
Even though I rarely gave you water
Or sunlight
Hell I even let your soil turn white
No matter what
You knew I was right for you
So when the wind blew away
My dream
Your reality of us being together
Made life once again serene
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC