"tote" poems
You already know, young Dan pops the heater
Come and slam a ***** like a WWE Diva.
I go H.A.M on the track, tote the mac
Any ***** talk **** Imma smack him with the strap.
So racked up, I could buy the mall
Come through, shop at Mr.Big and Mr.Tall.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
Earlier today, painting was the activity that we had planned
I have a support teacher who would always lend a hand
She had left the class to get the paint all mixed
While I stayed behind to get the toys and props all fixed
She came back and bore bowls of red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Lunchtime I visited a store and neatly displayed on low shelves
Arranged so immaculately as if magically done by elves
Were cases upon cases stitched together with only zips
They almost instantly bent a smile to my lips
Their colours shone brilliant red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Passed by a shop selling accessories and apparel
Merchandise dangled on wall hooks and some in a jumble
On the adjacent wall something caught my eye
Carried all the neat little tote bags one could ever buy
One peeking from a corner was red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Walked by a building, so modern-looking and new
Down on one side almost obscured from view
Were these horizontal rows of dancing neon lights
Stopped for a minute just to soak in the sights
Then I realised that they flickered red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Waited for the bus to get home at my usual bus stop
Whilst waiting, I shifted and from my bag something did drop
Bent over and picked my coin pouch that had fallen out
Looked up only to see another commuter lingering about
On his pack was a sticker which boasted red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Bus was packed, found a seat in the back row
Sat myself down, I peered briefly out the window
Engine under me, I scanned around to those who were seated
Observed the floor beneath my shoes as it vibrated
My pair of Adidas, oh my, they're red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
Got home, put my bag down and sank into the sofa
Switched on the telly, on was the Food Network's "Barefoot Contessa"
Surfed through the channels, caught a real estate commercial
Promoting prime land in a country not anywhere regional
Splashed on the screen, a flag - red, white and blue
Made me think of...well, made me think of you.
End of the day, it is best that I hit the sack
Allow some rest for my poor aggravated back
But not till I complete the words you're currently reading
I'm thinking, dreaming and furiously typing
How do I end this? Hmm...red, white and blue?
I'm thinking and dreaming...and wishing I'm with you.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
Why did she leave at a time like this?
Why does her house feel so empty?
Because it is.
How will I ever heal from this pain?
When will I -- what is that?
Is that a leaf? It's probably a leaf.
That green thing. Is that -- ?
A woman
Promenading through the trees,
With a scarf hanging down to her knees,
A handiworker's pleasant surprise,
It's one shade deeper than her eyes.
She's clutching her tote
As I try to stay afloat;
I'm drowning in this beauty.
She's gathering blackberries
And singing our tune,
The one with no words that oft' ends too soon.
I'm lying in the weeds,
Her green scarf clutched in my palms,
And it's getting easier to breathe.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
1 The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home,
2 'Tis summer, the darkies are gay,
3 The corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom
4 While the birds make music all the day.
5 The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
6 All merry, all happy and bright:
7 By'n by Hard Times comes a knocking at the door,
8 Then my old Kentucky Home, good night!
9 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
10 We will sing one song
11 For the old Kentucky Home,
12 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.
13 [Solo] They hunt no more for the possum and the ****
14 On the meadow, the hill and the shore,
15 They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
16 On the bench by the old cabin door.
17 The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
18 With sorrow where all was delight:
19 The time has come when the darkies have to part,
20 Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!
21 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
22 We will sing one song
23 For the old Kentucky Home,
24 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.
25 [Solo] The head must bow and the back will have to bend,
26 Wherever the darkey may go:
27 A few more days, and the trouble all will end
28 In the field where the sugar-canes grow.
29 A few more days for to tote the weary load,
30 No matter 'twill never be light,
31 A few more days till we totter on the road,
32 Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!
33 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
34 We will sing one song
35 For the old Kentucky Home,
36 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.
3.7k
Their lies are prompted
from teleprompters
and executed flaw-fully
from taxpayer's helicopters.
They say we're protecting
foreign daughters
while filtering profits
to desert clad marauders.
Blank faced public
fear conversing religion and politics
while passively electing
lunatics with trigger switches.
Arm the rebels
they bite the hand that feeds
the middle east burns
while America ******* bleeds.
The white, blue and red
camo helmets on their heads
farm fed frat boys
equipped with jackets of lead.
We watched Saddam crumble
his statue beaten with shoes
but the same war we already fought
the puppets now will choose.
Fight the good fight
support the troops.
Drone strikes by twilight
**** the troops.
An Army of one
Sempter Fi
Do or Die
I won't shed a single tear when you come back in a casket
covered in a flag you valued more than your life.
Our heroes are our welfare
stop blaming single mothers
plastic bags tied around throats
water boarding dissent, it smothers.
**** the Medal of Honor
I'm tearing up your portrait Obama.
How many can benefit from free tuition?
But we give it to those trained to slaughter.
Our priority is the police state
Nazis pretending to tote freedom.
We sip our Americanos
And retain nothing from the newspaper we are reading.
**By Evan Ponter
@evanponter**
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
My country right or wrong
we shall still sing her song and bombs away
on you
Bombs away on FDR we think he got away too far
in giving peasants below, our merit, the audacity to inherit,
our country 'tis only for me'
We'll work you until your flesh falls off, nine till five is not enough, to sell our gizmos here and far, to gluttons all alike
Ooops! (melody old man river)
... Oh tote dat barge and lift dat bale,
ya gets ah little drunk and ya lands in Jaaail
Pull yourself by your own bootstraps, who cares if opportunity naps, while the "America Dream" fades away
cause thirty years of us
America ' tis only for me but not those signers of Democarcy
in Philly where they took that oath, on that **** parchment
I abhor,
on that damnable parchment I ABHOR!!
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
.
A man has a wolf, a goat and a head of cabbage. While traveling, the group comes to a river's edge. The river is wide with a swift current.
The man obtains a very small boat/raft, floating thing. So small in fact he can only take one of the three at one time. Here is the problem. If he takes the cabbage, the wolf would surely eat the goat. But if he takes the wolf, the goat would surely eat the head of cabbage. How can he get himself, the wolf, the goat and the head of cabbage all safely across the river to the other side?
Take a moment and try to figure it out then read my little story to help you along. Have fun and I'll see you on the other side of the river.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
***There once was a man from Afghanistan
with his wolf, some cabbage and goat
set forth to cross the desert remote
they trudged for days on end, maybe as long as a week
whew!! the smell of that cabbage **** did it wreak
over dunes and hills to a mountain's ledge
which lead them down to the river's edge.
Now the wolf was a master over hill and dale
but crossing the river, he would surely fail
with cabbage as baggage and a goat that won't float
he knew in an instant, he needed a boat.
He stammered, and scratched and pondered awhile
he couldn't decipher how they could all cross The Nile
He grabbed a few pieces of floating wood
and lashed them together a tight as he could
He stared at his float, then peered the wolf,
back to the float then to the goat, Hum,
with cabbage, wolf and goat to tote
he prayed to his God, I need a small boat
Then all of sudden sand blew in his eye
and a rumbling voice came out of the sky
F- E- R- R- Y
Now everyone knows that wolf eats goat
and a goat will eat anything especially cabbage
But did you know that nothing rhymes
with cabbage and wolf, except
for wolf and cabbage blah blah blhababage.
So there my friends the problem is solved
if you are able to postulate.
Just carefully follow these simple steps
one, through six, seven and eight.***
1. take the goat over 2. come back get cabbage 3. take cabbage over 4. bring goat back
5. leave goat 6. take the wolf over 7. come back, get goat 8. take goat over again
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 7:14 AM UTC
Plastic plates bowls and cups
loaded on recycling trucks.
You've had your party thrown it away,
Less to wash up at the end of the day.
But few fall out they blow in winds,
Escape the grasp of the recycling bin.
Not all bags are renewable plastic,
Less strong now not so fantastic.
So write a note for a new tote,
Handles far stronger less likely broke.
It's not our problem it's goods we buy,
There wrapped and packaged to the shoppers eye.
But when the seas are less serene
Choked on plastics and polystyrene.
Death tolls rise numbers of sea life plummet,
Dont ya think its time we do summit?
To a turtle or whale a tasty dish,
To dine upon the jellyfish.
Not a bag for life that passes by,
That binds them to starvation before they die.
So the seas bob in colour of plastic pollution.
Times running out what to be a solution?
Its high time we started a clean up revolution!
To use less packaging to educate all.
Before the tides continue to rise and we loose them all.
The ice caps are melting at an alarming rate,
How long before for all it's too late.
Eco systems absorb UV,
cool the world for nature to be.
Polar life need ice to remain,
In cooler climates to sustain.
But as they melt and tides continue to rise,
Am losing hope for their demise.
Leave the jungles and forrests for self restoration,
Less fossil fuels and deforestation.
The trees keep falling from constant felling,
With palm oil growing; plantations swelling.
Our orange ancestors the orangutan,
Has been their homes since the jungles began.
To break life cycles whole eco systems,
It's time to change the world with our wit and wisdom.
Else what do we leave to the future generations,
Man on earth just viral abominations.
Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 11:48 AM UTC
he turned up a winning
ace on his arrival
he turned up an ace
the ace of revival
everyone engrossed
with all that he wrote
oh yeah there was a real
classiness to his tote
he'd arrived at other forums
not getting applause
those places weren't aiding
his penning cause
he turned up a winning
ace on his arrival
he turned up an ace
the ace of revival
when he found the site
where the mob noticed him
there stayed he to garner
kudos on his trim
of the adoring hordes
his arrival did infatuate
a diamond ace card
dealt him triumph's fate
he turned up a winning
ace on his arrival
he turned up an ace
the ace of revival
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 6:41 AM UTC
De
Glendy Burk
is mighty fast boat,
Wid a mighty fast captain too;
He sits up dah on de hurricane roof
And he keeps his eye on de crew.
I can't stay here, for dey work too hard;
I'm bound to leave dis town;
I'll take my duds and tote 'em on my back
When de
Glendy Burk
comes down.
Chorus:
** for Lou'siana!
I'm bound to leave dis town;
I'll take my duds and tote 'em on my back
When de Glendy Burk comes down.
De
Glendy Burk
has a funny old crew
And dey sing de boatman's song,
Dey burn de pitch and de pine knot too,
For to shove de boat along.
De smoke goes up and de ingine roars
And de wheel goes round and round,
So fair you well! for I'll take a little ride
When de
Glendy Burk
comes down.
Chorus
I'll work all night in de wind and storm,
I'll work all day in de rain,
'Till I find myself on de levydock
In New Orleans again.
Dey make me mow in de hay field here
And knock my head wid de flail,
I'll go wha dey work wid de sugar and de cane
And roll on de cotten bale.
Chorus
My lady love is as pretty as a pink,
I'll meet her on de way
I'll take her back to de sunny old south
And day I'll make her stay
So don't you fret my honey dear,
Oh! don't you fret, Miss Brown
I'll take you back 'fore de middle of de week
When de
Glendy Burk
comes down.
Chorus
2.3k
Phone calls were made, meetings were held and the new group was set to get started
There was lots to be learned and so little time for the lessons to all be imparted
The plan was immense, it was larger this time and the time was going by fast
They would all act as one, getting everything done and their goal was to not finish last
It was done every year, in the schools through the town, it was something the kids all enjoyed
But this year was tough, with all the closings and stuff and the fact there was more unemployed
Each school was set up to blitz through the town and to collect all the food that they can
But with more on the list and those who would surely be missed were the ones who set last years plan
Team leaders were picked in each group at the school, and their job was to get this all done
And to beat last years tote by at least one more pound and to make sure that it was all fun
Pep rally's were held to get the students involved and help motivate those involved
But with more needing help and less firms out to help, they had problems they had to get solved
On December the first, the kids all set out ringing bells in the malls and the stores
From there they would go with buses and trucks and collect food by knocking on doors
The school who did best bringing in the most pounds would be win a cup and awards
But to all those concerned, they had to get out and blanket the town in great hoards
People backed out from tasks all assigned, It was cold and they had too much to do
There was homework as well, and jobs on the side and alot wouldn't see the task through
But they all persevered and the food all came in, cans and boxes and crates and in bags
There was food left at school from donators unknown, just good wishes all written on tags
The goal was to raise an amount more than last and to do it in twenty two days
The total to date was behind just a bit but there was still time to make this year pay
So with one last great push the students went out and they held one last drive at the mall
If they collect one more ton, then all would be done and they could all know they answered the call
On Christmas Eve morn the principals met and they said they had all reached their goals
They shook all their hands and they stuck out their chests for they knew that they'd fulfilled their roles
The students were told at assemblies too, and the food was dropped off through the town
They had beat last years numbers by about fifty pounds even though they all thought they'd be down
So for all those they helped for the one day that month, where they had Christmas dinner and laughter
Was brought back to earth by one voice in one school, who asked "What would these families eat the day after?"
.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 11:09 AM UTC
1
2
3
4
5
I count things in 5’s
one cat
two cat
three cat
hula hoop
tote bag
My notes are organized Cornell style
but it can’t fill the void you left.
Light switch
one slipper
two slippers
lotion
candle
I’ve got my life organized down to the the minutes
but you aren’t in any of them.
Long distance.
We’ll see.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 9:58 AM UTC
My aunt’s in the garden,
Growing gold.
My uncle’s in his new shirt,
Growing mold.
My cuz’s in Af-ghan-i-stan,
Growing cold.
I’m swimming in wine,
Growing old.
This piece should make sense,
But it don’t.
This piece should tell tales,
Still, it won’t.
I’m home decades later,
Or so I wrote.
My daddy’s days dead
And so I’ll tote.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC
As the stormy weather passes;
Shadowed waves along the bay.
The wind sweeps through the headland grasses,
And we breathe the violent day.
And violent days abound,
Where the sea and land collide.
And in every fishing town,
Lay the marks of those who’ve died.
They lay as stark white crosses;
Set within, green and grassy field.
And we that breathe tote the losses,
… And keep our thoughts concealed.
For what can man or woman say,
That will calm the hurt within?
For some that braved the sea today;
…. Have yet to come back in.
Ten souls are held in thrall,
By the dark and brooding seas.
And stark are the faces, one and all,
As we make our silent pleas.
Oh! Sailor set your canvas tight,
And make your actions sound.
See that the tiller is rigged alright,
And get ye homeward bound.
The church bell tolls a heavy toll,
And candles light, pane on pane.
Whilst desperate eyes search the rocky knoll,
Through high seas, and cur-sed rain.
Worried hands, wring worried hands,
And they wring out misery.
Wives fidget and spin their golden bands,
And make their silent plea.
Oh! Sailor set your canvas tight,
And make your actions sound.
See that the tiller is rigged alright,
And get ye homeward bound.
The rain sheets in across the bay,
It writhes in violent spree,
And we look anon in grim dismay
At the ferment of the sea.
And terrible it is to see that sight,
That holds fathers, sons, and lovers.
And hold the fear, that the sea just might,
Bear new crosses, ‘midst the others.
And in the silence of the rain,
As it dashes hopes upon the sea.
I walk with other souls in pain,
As we make our silent plea.
Oh, Sailor set your canvas tight,
And make your actions sound.
See that the tiller is rigged alright,
And get ye homeward bound.
The raging storm wreaks its worst,
Shadowed waves along the bay.
Our thoughts become bleak and cursed,
As we breathe the violent day.
And then a voice crisp and clear,
Shouts “Look ye to the lee”!
And there we spy the crew, so dear;
Of the good ship Karalee.
Oh, Sailor set your canvas tight,
And make your actions sound.
See that the tiller is rigged alright,
And get ye…
Homeward bound.
Jul 25, 2010
Jul 25, 2010 at 6:06 AM UTC
Claus, Santa, the
Is a huge enigma to me
And probably many others
My enigmatized sisters and brothers.
Enigmatized, possibly stigmatized,
It beggars logical thought
All the confusion and pain
This concept has brought.
For over two centuries
Surrounded with mysteries
An alternately jovial and evil guy
Brought bounteous gifts, could fly!
Gave coal to the misbehaving,
Or nothing much at all, saving
All the good stuff for good kids
Who were careful with what they did.
We have read of Saint Nick
And Sinterklaas; take your pick
Of which legend blended with what
To become the guy we were taught
Sneaked down chimneys at night
It you kids didn’t sleep tight.
While this is all very typical
It seems rather biblical.
Claus’s eye is on the sparrow
So we must walk the straight and narrow
Or go down into his big naughty book
And he will ultimately decide to look
Askance at any chance of gifts for you
No matter how much begging you do
Write to his eternal rotund self.
He’s an unforgiving old elf.
And there’s that flying reindeer thing
And the way he’s rumored to go zipping
Around the entire blessed world in one night.
That, to me just never seemed quite right.
It’s bizarre and incredible is exactly what.
Do the reindeer have jet engines in their ****
And how can one tiny sleight and eight beasts
Tote those thousands of truckloads at least?
No, the whole thing sounds bogus, in its base.
And that whole North Pole/tiny people place
Where they slave on making toys all the year
And thrive on hot chocolate instead of beer?
Elves must be a rather dim gang of workers.
No union leaders? No malingerers? No lurkers?
I have tried for decades, but it doesn’t add up.
There’s too much questionable in this holiday cup.
I’m going back to the idea I thought as a child.
It’s easier to believe and not nearly as wild:
It’s Mom and Dad behind it all, it’s a big lie.
And my final bit of skepticism? I can tell you why.
The kids in my little neighborhood get given
Gifts with no relationship to how they are living.
If all this hogwash were actually true
Bunches of them would get coal too.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
so kindled in sear summer July,
Upheaval churning in my most stoic feeling frazzled, I am,
Thank GOD for Good Riddance- putting on a thinking cap
And my Good Instincts prevails..
Brooding over and praying in silence-
PEACE and Faith too ; sustained my intertwined...
guts good 'ole meshed up toiled my life.
Like a web-gathering digging out into knitted vine..
Gotta dance w/ grace even if someone ogling..
actin' out like zilch..
out there mesmerizing.
Give it all out for sake o' Inamorata
And fervor like ne'er be in paroxysm, a day or two ..
Rhyme with the melody o' songs
And Sing it all out on top o' my lungs
like there's no one's eavesdropping
Amusingly enough as I wantonly be wanted
And feel hurting no more,
Sleeping in minty pillows, sobbing no more...
At the time, eventide dusk comes,
That Beauty; rests indeed, bellows
Live and let live like it's a bed o' heavenly velvety Roses in this cauldron earth!.ensnared my thoughts together oftentimes,
Through waylay conflicts
So akin to as DRAMA Momma!
That another can tote to my table.
Getting' along just fine witn MYself..
thus restore my sense of panoramic mindset; - my BLESSINGS- scrutiny on my studies and my cherub babes who cares as whippersnapper!
Thou Loves me more than
of enormous superficial stuffs-
things that won't last-
I'm in solitude for soul searching'.
I am of thy belief that
everyone needs time...
To just Be! @ peace with just MYself!
J
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 11:38 AM UTC
the professor
name's John, I think
every day a goatee
a ponytail
and an honest smile
brings me flowers
sometimes.
pays in nickels
sometimes.
"have an easy day"
he says to me
man in the same brown
suit, mismatching
every day
coffee, hunched over
with something under
his arm
sometimes.
never seen him speak
just a scowl
and a solemn shuffle
the owner
of the bar next door
I think.
out for a cigarette
every 30 minutes or so
or move his car
he gets our mail
sometimes.
glasses on his forehead
never on his face
always a fleeting
noncommittal smile
pacing past the door
sly eyes.
there's the guy
stuck in the 70s.
every day
bell bottoms
a black bowl cut
it's a wig
I think.
a leather jacket
sometimes.
walks like he owns
the sidewalk
he doesn't.
the old man
the half-blind one
orders the same thing
always.
with his walker
his hands searching
haven't seen him
in a while
the big guy from
the burger place
across the street
no, not the famous one
the other place.
took his suggestion
got a burger
wasn't very good
but he's always so
cheery, gotta be nice
the one guy
blue shorts guy
stops by during his
run, to check
the selection. back
an hour later in
pants and
a jacket now.
never buys a thing
wearing those blue shorts
the woman with
oddly spaced teeth
and hair
the short witchy kind
lots of shawls
and oversized tote bags
and cargo-capri's.
complained of
an allergic reaction
once
to god knows what.
keeps coming back though
a mother and son
mother, tired.
ten year old
private school boy
asks for too much
and too many questions
"did you make this?"
"are you really 20?"
"do you go to school?"
he asks so many questions
"yes, yes, no."
"why not?"
"well…"
mom saves me
distracts him away
the poor skinny one
the homeless man.
ill-fitting clothes
always.
women's
sometimes.
begging, cigarettes and money
has a tic, says
"hello! hi! hello!"
every few seconds
he's very persistent.
and very polite.
gracefully insane, I'd say
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 4:20 AM UTC
The ghosts of old raindrops
mock and scold.
Their scorn writ large
on these dusty roads and in these dusty throats.
To tote the barge but not lift the bail
ain't no kind of protest.
Spit in the well and
hope the master draws up that bucket-full.
Wishes.
Still, the giver of life
serpentines through this valley
like the Euphrates did
in that one book, but
it does not matter
since the scythe swings
in such wide circles
this time of year.
We can bring in sheaves until dusk
then fish for men in the morning but
our souls are still corrupted.
Our hearts are rotten like old pears.
I'm so thirsty.
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 10:28 AM UTC
hunched over, a brown-skinned army,
picking, the field soon to be stripped of its bounty;
they will move to the next one, fast,
before the fruit falls to the ground
"los ninos, los viejos tambien"
the young, the old ones also help, though
they are slower and tote less a load
when the day is done, they build fires
for the frijoles, and to keep the night's spirits
at bay; they sleep in the shanties, the sheds
the master provides
the next day will be the same, though maybe
not as hot--maybe a rain will give them respite
from their labors
a gentle, short shower they pray,
for a storm might lay ruin to the crops, the treasure
they borrow only long enough
to basket and truck
not even a cloud visits the white sky
so the stooping, the loading drags on without relief
but from the north, a cool wind does blow
in it they hear a voice without cords vibrating,
yet one that speaks a language their hearts know well,
telling them their toil is to be brief, yet eternal: that winter
only whispers now, but soon commands all to rest
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
His hands stretched out as if in the
Shavasana pose, only he was
Wearing his old jeans, chequered shirt
Black laceless converse shoes
His head on the lush green grass
With Hesse’s Siddartha in his left hand
and a magical airbrush in his right hand
He gazed at the cloudless blue sky
Like an artist in front of a canvas
he drew the people he wanted in it,
The boy with the inquisitive big brown eyes
The girl at the bus stop carrying a tote bag
the things he wanted to do,
Climb the highest mountain peak
Do the tango in Buenos Aires
Vagabond across South America
the sunsets and the full moons he wanted to see
the reasons he was willing to suffer for
the smiles he wanted to have.
A masterpiece in the making
the outline took no more than a few minutes
but the finished piece took a lifetime to create.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 5:25 AM UTC
These storybooks woven with leathery imbrication
Filling my palms with vile indication
Detailing such wickedness and strife
What ethereal threads cling to life?
Such labyrinthine desires scrapping in my mind
My soul from body; that body which isn’t kind
To delve deeper within the wounds that sever
To fellow wolves, demons and toothless beggars
Unholy martyrs preach from a podium underground
Ablaze in hellfire, monsters of the ravenous mound
Black tongues and cheeks full of worms and leeches
Coals flung and burning over deafening speeches
Sumptuous in eloquence, these tossers and man-boys
Evocative displays of violence, hushed by silence and toys
Beseeched, reprimanded in city squares with common folk
Feeding dogs in heat slop with a pail and tote
Children waving hi to people in cages, smiling indifferently
Don’t they know what this is? Yes and no, forever in shame
Don’t they know there be wickedness afoot?
There be shadows of molestation
And whips of industry
Eyes removed and replaced with bar-codes
There be devils amongst the valiant
And dark angels amongst us
The few and proud
Recite aloud:
“Darkness brings uninvited guests
And our bodies are bare
Give us a blessing, a crumb or drop
Of life that we all can share.”
Veins full of rubies and auburn sapphires
Creepers laced in the cowls of cadavers
Red water thicker than mud and spit
The fatherland sicker than a rotten ****
There be dark angels amongst us, telling tales deep-seated
They be grave and weary, their lives left defeated
Now in the wilderness they give slothful lectures
But it’s only fools who listen to these rambling specters
And soon no one listens
Save for the moon that glistens
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
the very sound of her voice
somewhere between
a warm summer rain
and inside a blue crystal jar
smooth translucent, atmospheric
like soft ****
swelling roses
tender touches
yet separated by oceans
her voice like hot tote
swaying me
feeling the contoured interiors
of soul's ache
a bending ridge pole
hearts break open
pouring
voluptuous milk
like a tapioca
its beads
bulging blood bells
drink **** lick eat
drown if you can
we speak
rocks in the throat
hello, how are you
im choking on desire
fine she says
i want to **** you
we start with a phone kiss
mmmuuuhhhaaaaa
yes, she says
take me open me up
pour me into your mouth
soak yourself in me
show me your raw hunger
i will eat your dark edges
I'm shaking apart
with tenderness
may i touch your ****
yes, she says
her ***** like wet silk
can beauty bring tears
mouths touch tentatively at first
and then mouths eat mouths eat mouths
and tongues become fiends
cherry red pugilists
bites excite
I'm in the mood to bleed for her
eyes smiling radiant
and souls rapture
hearts dissemble
and fuse
at a braking point
from
long hard years
of vibrant abundance
denied
trying to hold together
on broken wheels
now finding warm mud
to go bare foot in
to slide in
up-leaping
between the toes
to love you in
to roll around with you in
like fat little piggies
playing in butter
to fill you with slippery kisses in
and voluptuous caresses
that even our dreams can not apprehend
skin to skin
soul to soul
**** to ****
so eager
fire engine red
tongues licking tears
beautiful ******* to bury my face in
like baby eating cup cakes
making us whole
we continents apart
from each other
having never met
wow wow wow
yet alive again
what a phone call
we say
good night
sleep my love
later
later
tomorrow
oh yes
have to go
love you
more soon
please
yes
oh yes
kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss
then stillness
a cornucopia of emptiness
hollow husk
tomorrow may be we will give each other phone again
and the land will turn fertile green once more
kissing holding
talking ***** ***** *****
happy in loves fire
salvation
and the heart ever resounding
like tintinnabulating bells
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 4:20 PM UTC
*The burdens are
difficult to carry
all alone.
With a friend
to help you tote
them, you're
not all
alone.
The burdens
are so much lighter
with a friend to help.
That's what
friends
are
for,
to help each other.
...*
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC