"toting" poems
Toting the mysterious bundle and sporting a sore back
I drag my feet up the last few steps, expended of vigour
I almost couldn't resist prematurely looking through the sack
Remembering the words from the wise old seer
Grimacing I walk a slow gait to get to the table
Set the bundle down and relieve my weight onto a chair
Parched throat but wait longer I am unable
Curiosity takes charge and into the gift I will tear
Blood is pumping along with an increasing heart rate
Fingers scrambling clumsily over the strings that bind
Nails digging frantically into this package bearing my fate
Gnawing thoughts of uncertainty flooding my mind
At last my fingers win the battle that lasted
The final string has fallen... Obstinate knots all undone
I pick the cloth by the edges to have it unfolded
The contents inside reach out like rays of the sun
Corners of the cloth open up like a fully bloomed blossom
Exposing the treasure that lay solemn and quiet inside
Common objects we'd normally perceive as random
Petty things now important as they attempt to guide
I pick up the first and notice an engraving on it's stem
Between my fingers - an unassuming feathered quill
Barely legible, such little space the words do cram
"Here is your sword... Draw blood and let spill"
More riddles, I sought to examine the next
A flat bottomed vial filled with jet black ink
On it is a label with scrawling of time worn text
"Here is your blood; let flow what you think"
Lastly, lay bound up sheets of yellow stained parchment
They reek of age-old herbs; intoxicating slightly
At the top of the first, a note scribbled not so recent
"Within these pages, you must bleed to find Sanctuary"
Staring down at the objects laid in front of me
In hopes of discovering something I should miss
Then finally it struck me, so plain to see
I'm using the instruments now, writing to find release...
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
* soft spoken intro *
*The tree,
With its lights,
***** and tinsel,
Garland, excitement,
Of these nights,
The mistletoe and a star…
Ornaments,
See the candy canes,
Icicles,
And a door wreath,
On a cold,
Snowy Christmas Eve!
Toys of Elvin-creation gleam, faces of the children they smile and beam, pitter-patter sounds of feet stomp -ing; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
Santa Claus and Christmas-time, sing a-long with our cheery rhyme, nothing ever feels so fine; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
Spicy scent of pumpkin pies, hear the reindeer when his sleigh arrives, toting presents that jolly guy; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
Santa, St. Nick, Sinterklaas, around the whole world in one night -no pause, and a childhood feeling that’ll never be lost; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
Tally-Ho! Jolly-fun! The night ain’t over till Santa’s done; a night of magic you won’t believe, it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
It’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
A cold snowy Christmas Eve!
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:13 PM UTC
Carved in stone, lost in time,
freezing my parted smile,
Peering down into the unknown,
I sit next to you, toting my arms:
Where is the world
that breathed you to life?
On this lonely peak, tires
upon tires of hopes and dreams
retreat into the the terraced
spirals of mists; Every mystical
dawn dissolves into the lakes.
Gnomes bear the burden of
mysterious gates to the beyond,
as whispers tiptoe to strains
of the Quijongo.
Here epochs and worlds end.
And counts begin all over again.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
shirtless screaming through
the heartland and I used
to smoke cigarettes
too.
she never wanted
to stay: the youth
she had
left demanded it.
now, I'll wager
she's somewhere
in an apartment with
some dandy that
wears sweater vests
to Thanksgiving dinner.
maybe she thinks
about me and my little
twisted heart every
now and again:
like when she's away
from the sweater vest
on the toilet
behind a locked door,
"be right out, babe!"
or toting groceries
through a parking lot
to her car,
or signaling a
left turn before
changing her mind
and deciding to
go straight instead.
and
maybe I need to
stop thinking
about her
especially after
three years
incommunicado
but what can I say?
I've never slept on
a bed of nails
I couldn't
dream on.
Feb 27, 2021
Feb 27, 2021 at 9:34 AM UTC
Peculiar
Agreed?
How ******** clad lassies
Get the pass to show their ***
Long as nobody touches
Jiving gyrations
In counter-clockwise rotation
Seldom unescorted by damnation
By God, sense the relation
She's losing her patience
Can't afford to be a patient
So being patient...
That **** is ancient
Swanging ******* before eyes
Eyes that can't see
Eyes blind by the fuckery
***** get hickory
And the tic tickory of the clock
Stops
Drop drop
Shake that body for the coin
Make those men yearn to join
Their meat to your groin
Blind men throw out the presidents
Nixon Jackson Benjamin
Facts is
That these hoes stay cashing in
More than ****** busting traps
And toting gats to make stacks
Peculiar
Agreed?
How a ***** sell and smoke ****
High off they own supply
Baby mamas multiply
Covered all the **** by a lie
Making these young girls cry
And the innocent have to die
For this boy to strive
When you mad at the *** clap
Fat *** on a mans lap
Slow wine then fast
Slow grinding for cash
But no harm is caused
No obstruction of laws
But men be a "Boss"
& a woman... A loss
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 1:47 AM UTC
They swear they can teach you everything
you're going to need to know about
life and how to take on the world.
The same ******** who
can't even tell you an
honest version of history.
If you sigh hard enough, you learn.
Some of us pull everything we know
from the margins and get called part
of an agenda for it.
Most people learn only by what
they perceive on the surface
and miss everything underneath.
Some nights you go hungry, and you learn.
The ******** go to college or university,
get some ******** degree,
and decide it makes them an unofficial expert
on situations they've never been concerned with.
Racists with law degrees.
Some of them go into the military
and come back with scars in their mind,
tell us we're just civilians,
because gun-toting is the education they received.
If you ever slept in a car because you had no choice,
you learn.
I've met a lot of people who read religious texts
and only believe what people "knew" 4000
years ago, at most.
I've met people who tell you they believe in the bible,
then when pressed for information,
obviously can't tell you **** about their own beliefs.
If you have a hard time not biting back out of habit,
you learn something.
The funny thing is, you don't need to learn how to
hate to learn how to love,
but
Once you learn what love is,
it makes it a hell of a lot clearer what hate is.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
.
**( | • || )
( •| | )
( ||| • | )
\\ | | //
\\ || • | //
• •• ••
•like clockwork,
her day would begin
•pressures of life like no
one could imagine•toting the
crushing weight upon her tiny shou-
lders•responsibilities and expectations that
would overwhelm before she falters•she'd ***
ble as she groans her duress•her skin would crack
to release pent up stress•then there would come a day
•her exhausted veins would rupture and then give way
•she has the most terrible temper•but we would still flock
to her•why?........when time and again she offers us strife•
simply because she provides,
she gives us life•**
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
i have held with
fascination, when i was young,
all of my toys.
a parallel universe of
marvels. imperial is the mood
of these ecstasies!
i remember my cheap svelte revolver
back in 1998 bought from
the festive bazaar in the marketplace at the dreary heart of Bocaue when i was
consumed by the thought of brutal force and how swiftly, in the hands of men meant for twisting open
the doors, welcome death
or the metallurgy of it.
i used to run off into the sunset
toting my gun high with pride
shunning the Sun, and the
reprise of my carousals is my mother
soldering in her white hands
a "walis tambo" and summoning me
homeward with a churlish grin
on my face, triumphantly ecstatic
over my rendezvous.
now my gun has withstood the
tatterdemalion of dog days
and in one corner i felt its
brokenness as it yearns to
be retired early in the peak
of my youth. happiness wears down like a chip on the old linoleumed floor and i tinker with
it to unsheathe the grime
of the unspoken stucco concrete.
i placed it in a box, my black revolver, together with the toys
that i once laughed with
when only bliss is as simple as a juvenile love, or the easy picking
of a santan over the fields
where i ran off into
the viridian laughing with the verdure of the world that i once knew as something so beautiful
and intricate.
i heard my black revolver went
somewhere behind the macadamized wall where i dreamt of having a basketball ring nailed to.
only i knew how to play
my revolver, and now that i am
caught within the heaviness
of all things that mean greater
than all other joys,
no other days could ever
surpass how
i made
a hero in myself
mighty with the tales
that i keep.
good ole black revolver, 1998.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
Marched in step
Toting a little red wagon
Stride carried pep
Dragging that little red wagon
Weathered in rust
Creaking in the sun
Covered in dust
It weighs a ton
Overburdened by basic trinkets
Remnants of Christmas 05
Macaroni made cumulonimbus
From school days off winchester drive
Photo of family for evidence
Not that it means a thing
Victim of malevolence
Thrown out in early spring
Winter brought about the cough
Toting a little red wagon
His whole system seems off
Dragging that little red wagon
He's feeling old
Went and turned lethargic
Held onto the cold
Wallowing in hardship
Deterioration apparent
There's something horribly wrong
Behavior aberrant
His strength is gone
Innocence in tow
Holding onto reactionary bliss
Writing name in snow
...Blood marked abyss
Death encroaches.
He falls before his little red wagon
A young boy approaches
And steals that little red wagon
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see Armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will.
I sure could use a vacation from this
********
three
ring
circus sideshow of
freaks here in this hopeless ******* hole we call L.A.,
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any ******* time. Any ******* day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona Bay.
Fret for your figure and
Fret for your latte and
Fret for your lawsuit and
Fret for your hairpiece and
Fret for your Prozac and
Fret for your pilot and
Fret for your contract and
Fret for your car,
It's a ********
three
ring
circus sideshow of
freaks here in this hopeless ******* hole we call L.A.,
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.
Any ******* time. Any ******* day.
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona Bay.
Some say a comet will fall from the sky.
Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves.
Followed by fault lines that cannot sit still.
Followed by millions of dumbfounded dipshits.
Some say the end is near.
Some say we'll see Armageddon soon.
I certainly hope we will cause
I sure could use a vacation from this
Stupid **** silly **** stupid ****
One great big festering neon distraction,
I've a suggestion to keep you all occupied:
Learn to swim. [x2]
Mom's gonna fix it all soon.
Mom's coming 'round to put it back the way it ought to be.
Learn to swim.
**** L. Ron Hubbard and **** all his clones.
**** all these gun-toting
Hip gangster wannabes.
Learn to swim.
**** retro anything.
**** your tattoos.
**** all you junkies and **** your short memory.
Learn to swim.
**** smiley glad-hands with hidden agendas.
**** these dysfunctional, Insecure actresses.
Learn to swim.
Cause I'm praying for the end;
I'm praying for tidal waves
I wanna see the ground give way.
I wanna watch it all go down.
Mom, please flush it all away!
I wanna see it go right in and down.
I wanna watch it go right in.
Watch you flush it all away.
Time to bring it down again.
Don't just call me pessimist.
Try and read between the lines.
I can't imagine why you wouldn't
Welcome any change, my friend.
I wanna see it all come down.
**** it down.
Flush it down.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
allow me to celebrate the ant
summer miscre-ant in my kitchen
picking up pieces of pieces "to go":
a crumb of Meow Mix, a crushed Cheerio;
applied the usual eco-safe spray
detecting this way too feint for they
amassed to quest their innate objective
exploring and toting the prime directive;
hymenoptera tents with doors
four on the floor: cafes of poison
for caulking the cracks in the walls hadn't solved
the stay-past-your-welcome guests involved;
soon numbers diminished but still a few
creeping through unrepent-ant
I swept thrice per day to starve them out
yet brooms are too thick all crannies to rout;
surrendered and wondered, perhaps they are teachers
attempting to bypass my brainy block
too thick to buzz with what the ants know?
I squat as a toddler to take-in their show;
for hours observing them (off and on)
until an implosion of comm-ants sense
challenged my globalized conception
exposing my mind to ant redemption;
the ant is now my writing totem
trouble though they'll be next June
within this mantra is what they knew:
one moment one crumb to carry and chew;
insight's relative I realize
ants have their own frustrations with size
but ponder the ant when writing time's little:
at peace with a piece of ant-agonist vittle.
Aug 15, 2010
Aug 15, 2010 at 11:51 AM UTC
daffodils sprinkle their magic
fairy dust along tufts of whispering bluegrass.
her laugh skips across the rocky driveway,
as she watches her best friend balance on a skateboard.
panting spotted dogs lap cool water from their
brightly colored bowls as they lounge on the wrap-around porch.
next-door-neighbors splash into their pools, the scent of
grilled hotdogs and charred hamburgers wafting across the
aquamarine sky. children with floaties splash at their
parents, tiny mouths bursting into sun-soaked smiles.
sunscreen-toting mothers drag beach towels embroidered with
superheroes and princesses to dry off their young ones.
warm-bodied babies cry on bouncing knees as storm clouds
gather across the stainless steel skies. little girls squeal and
parents scoop their plates filled with food into the house, as
lightning sings in the afternoon.
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 6:47 PM UTC
*Tarot toting tinker
let's have another round
my future's in the balance
lay yet another down
Never had much luck at cards
even less so at l'amour
give a wandering fool direction
high priestess, I kneel before
Your caravan will travel on
as I seek the royal road
my chariot is torn asunder
pray deal me a lighter load*
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
Women can be men
Men can be women
People can be people
We didn’t write the feeling...
Stars can be supernovas
Meaning can be mending
And paintings can bend
And walls can return...
And shapes of architecture become earth
Lovers can be lovers
Leavers can believe us
Lights, camera, action, order, disorder
Dysphoria, euphoria
Academia, abracadabra
The moon, *** sun and laughter
Instantaneousness
Osmosis
Fear, friction, distance, pure bliss
Bubble toting aqua world
Top this...
Freedom, collaboration
Emancipation, cognification
Celebration...
Millenniums of us saving, changing...
What we actually are eventually...
One surging sway of soul-light soldered angels
Morphing from an oceanic abyss…
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 6:59 PM UTC
i'm going to die alone,
before my skin withers,
before my mother, father
sister and both brothers.
i hope to fade out
to the sound of another
televised war,
where the purpose is
lost in verbose.
no more small town cops,
self-taken mirror pics of ****** bags in flex,
no more tan blondes with gargantuan sunglasses,
no more left wing, right wing, chicken wing,
nor laughter or warm beer,
no more neighbors, so-called friends, or fast food,
no more retail ****** or gun-toting *****
only me, my old friend misery,
and perhaps a ****** eternity.
Jul 2, 2010
Jul 2, 2010 at 11:29 PM UTC
feeling like I should feel bad
experience sadness for innocents
and anger at bad people,
gun toting murderers
without care
threatening the fabric
of my burgeoning police state…
but I do not –
eyes light up at daily headlines
unwound minds blindly destroying.
human land mines, primed and
in line at your local grocery
mostly just waiting for that moment
when they can really show them
all –
I call this the road to the end
humanity’s demise realized
live on the five o’clock news
nightly…
it’s alright we lie to our children
telling them sleepily not to hide
and abide the tide of rising
genocide
on the young and dark skinned
who are destined to win in the end
when those left on the planet
share similar skin
let me begin, again –
last punch I threw
was in 2nd grade
got hit in the face in 6th
but didn’t make a fist
already leaning to a pacifist
in the mist of my drunken
father’s fists.
shot a deer in my 15th year
and put the gun down for the fear
of some cosmic shear…
still ate meat without feeling defeated
but cheated myself by disguising these choices
as voices in my head…
with an unruly hand planning on writing poetry –
but I love the disillusion
the growing confusion
that is a fusion
of people in sheep’s mindset
letting psychopathic dictators
dictate their lives
pill popping wives in new-age beehives
naming children ‘Chandelier’ and ‘Compromise’…
I accept my sociopathy
and embrace myself as a dying race
those willing to face the truths
and not try to sooth the pain
while knowing these are the last days
and sit amazed
while blazing legal marijuana –
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
This offends me as a vegan transgender hipster democrat voting Native-American-Indo-Chinese socialist anarchist hybrid illegal alien agnostic-atheist Germanic social engineering major dropout who only vapes fair-trade organic non-GMO decaffeinated French-pressed compressed and hydrated extra-skim grass-fed only protein soy breast milk on the regular and does Hindi Kama Sutra naked crossfit hot yoga 5 times a week. And frankly, since I am also a non-binary tri-gender genderqueer male feminist and I identify as a proponent to legalize cannabis and a Rastafarian, pansexual, genderfluid, Apache helicopter beta mutt of mega multi alpha beta gamma delta omega combo god of hyper death who's adamant about polygamous polyamorous relationships with an pure-bred alpha chihuahua which helped me cross the border of Mexico to let love trump the hate and get a job 3-D printing pink ***** hats all day. My dog also walks me to the local skate park and doggy styles me, while my gender neutral photographer neighbor takes pictures and sells them on the dark web antifa site and if you find that weird you're an ignorant arrogant homophobic gender-assuming globophobic bloodthirsty bacon-loving gun-toting cis-gender pan-sexual patriarchal incestuous sexist racist white-privileged misogynistic populist biased objectified white-privileged anti-communist **** indoor tanning Cheetos cheese-puff-loving republican.
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 4:15 PM UTC
impassioned fascists lash facts
together working to bash
brash young activists
envisioning a lasting planet
****** Janet
congress loves the Jews
and the blues of today
means we’ve all flown
over nests impressed
with obese flying flesh..
resting festival goers flow
over Bohemian Grove
with row boats toting
goat cheese
and if it please the court
I will bring back Bermuda Shorts
and with elegant reports on contortionist’s
abortion risks and whisk farm fresh eggs
with Barbie Doll legs in May
under the sway of a fine cognac
Black light heart attack on the first night
after the fourth Blood Moon
bring gloom to the tomb of the unknown
soldier, whose older brother
drank Folders crystals whilst *******
about the listless whisperers
still recklessly wishing for some
environmental recognition or maybe
a shift in the disposition
towards deep sea net fishing
and phishing scammers flooding servers
in service of the undeserving
reservationists……..
native brethren living together in
harmonious balance
with the nature around us
astounds me
and if’n we could only see
that, peacefully
we could be free….
is it only a dream to me
as if Frank and I
were going home,
together –
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
every day we learn
how many died of violence
in any corner of the globe,
be it in wars, by terror,
fundamentalist fanatics,
gun-toting psychopaths and haters,
or all of the above
the figures seem to grow
the daily death toll makes us callous
what earlier was horror
has turned into ****** routine
so much so that
when there’s a day we do NOT hear
about some grisly ******
we feel like we have got a bargain!
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
As the bus approached the stop
next to the library
I knew.
The sight of you
standing there
was not a surprise.
Pleasantly, you entered,
toting your instruments like a back pack.
Your weight made the seat
creak, when you sat down
--right in front of us.
For a brief second,
your heart was spared
and then,
out of the corner of your eye
an orange hoodie
dark shaggy hair
and me.
This must be what doctors see
when they tell families their
loved ones have passed;
a pain catching the eyes
making them blink while open.
I selfishly expected
you to understand
as your mouth cried quietly
“he had his chance!”
I wanted to run after you
when you gathered
your
…things
and got off the bus.
Instead, I watched you walk away
downward face
wasting your last few dollars,
leaving your young heart back
inside our potluck pumpkin pie.
How cruel unmet needs use people.
Your face
that day
hurts me still.
Later that weekend,
he
said to me,
"It’s funny, how I can look at you now
and not get turned on."
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
Today, I miss,
The gunslinger in your stride,
Toting a bootfall, swagger laugh.
The plump of a whiskered cheek
Turned sunny side up
Harley Davidson pony tail,
Leathered up decorum,
Wild Child riding in on a heart of gold
Every now and then
When the cowboys seem so small
I think of you
Long shadowed against the platform of my childhood
Hear the faint whistle of John Wayne on the wind
Calling the memories up like
An Ole Spice bear hug
And the loss
Hits like a gunshot
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 11:14 AM UTC
brewing potion with ritual
reciting chants, merely verbal
niching these little caviar
a mixture of gravitas and war
such ladle so long enough to combine
a virgin's blood with a spoon of wine
perhaps adding a buckskin would suffice
this hellcat's hellacious bliss
a bushel of a misogynist's intestine,
must not forget to hitch gobs of sharks fin,
augment a pair of an old man's sight
then smatter the hogs' teeth bite
sing song this dark lullaby
you ought to hear plead and cry
smell and smear this fatal brew
any life it shall take and shoo
death will come and it will reign
blood will begrime and it will stain
thoroughly toting the daring deathly hex
seeking a prey who must be next
Nov 25, 2019
Nov 25, 2019 at 10:52 PM UTC
Gorgeous and lushly coloured
West End lights so brightly shine
Reflected in the obsidian road wet with rain
And slick with reckless hope
The painful slope of tired dreams
Winds down around a bronzed
Soldier, toting his gun, who grimly
Sets his lantern jaw against the
Long dead faces of war and fear
I sit at his feet and watch the cabs
I draw on my cigarette and pick out
Eyes of the people sitting in their seats
They are travelling fast to places
Where I’ll never go and I don’t care
Their lives will play out and we’ll never
Speak or smile together though
Our atoms are siblings in phase
I lift my head to the stars and
Marvel at the time passing many
Years ago when the world was young
And nature was naive enough to
Believe she had got it right
The night lights flicker slowly on
And off and mimic the pinprick
Glows against the raven wing
Canvass above my head
Nothing in this world can shake
My beliefs or so I thought
Until the days when life became
A subtle masquerade and the
Food in the dishes no longer gave
Me the nourishment I craved
Everything I knew was wrong
And right was just a wishful thing
So here I sit, my suit crumpled and
Wet with sweat, the tears and rain
My case is thrown over there and it
Has burst its gut spilling those once
Important papers but now just covered
In vacuous glyphs known to others
But no longer to me
At home that think I am this
They think I am that
They say they know what I will say
When this or that happens
They know me little and
Like all men when grips slacken
Just the few square inches in my brain are
Truly mine and infused with logic
That tumbles central and
Squats on a raffia mat
In a windowless room
Happy in my world and loving
In my deepest thought
Placid in my retrospective views
Motionless against the swell
Of the crowd around me;
Nothing more of me is required of me now
I am free to leave they tell me
And for that I’m
Pleased
I close my eyes and fall to imageless sleep
The cabs keep whizzing by and
The stares are still fixed upon their
Days of lives as they approach
And when they finally come
I will greet them with a simple
“You know me”.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 11:49 AM UTC
Yes, there is something
so satisfying
about carrying a Degas print
on the surface of my purse
around New York City
Toting the tote
clutching it to my side
a prize
somewhere from across the street
it catches the eye of a stranger
who has a special affinity
for impressionist painters
ballet dancers in pastel colors
And for a moment
we meet
and for a moment
he envies the purse
so close to me
we dance a special dance
our eyes dance
to and fro
back and forth
to meet or not to meet
and then he answered the question
running across the street and down the stairs
towards a subway train
his skinny frame
swallowed up by the stairs
This one
this poem
this poem on a Friday evening
wasn't much about anything at all
but it is still worth noting
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 6:39 PM UTC