"trumped" poems
Give him a skinhead, insignia, boots
Less scruples, a swagger-stick, crowds, money.
No black shirts visible. Just business suits,
and pride is restored: tragic but funny.
Proud like a skyscraper, godless as sin
Babylonian promises, towering lies
Reality shows when plutocrats win,
Their rhetoric raining from empty skies.
She-wolves, elected by uninformed sheep
behave predictably, eyeing the flock
Their wool (and the lamb-chops) are hers to keep
Grazing voter—this should come as no shock.
It’s a bitter pill (more like pilloried)
So shall we now be ******* or Hillary-ed?
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 8:59 PM UTC
Because the thirst wouldn’t simmer; it ruptured cities into boils,
turned cultures into armies, an armageddon of cheeky stubborn Irish Catholics and thick veined Germans couldn’t imagine a world without their stout hearty headed pint.
Because white dry protestant angels thought crime existed in a vacuum, in a filthy saw-dusted saloon, the hub spawn of evil.
Because twice as many of those saloons were ******* by unlicensed blind pigs, not through free swinging doors on the streets, but in the domestic sphere; in the dark crept crevices of household sanctuaries.
Because bootlegging capitalist princes turned the industry into a stenchy liability with their home brewed distilled poisons. Alky cookers wrapped the commodity fetish and dubbed it moonshine.
Moonshine – spirits for the poor and blind.
Because this social reform was a moral reform lost in the oblivion of politics, lost in the timeliness of progressive spring-cleaning referenda’s.
Because the ragged, toothless class had to be scold, striped clean of their traditional barings,
because wisdom is everything and they’re spirits ran vilely wild.
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 6:57 AM UTC
The Crickets cackle “crisp,”
With an only interruption, being I,
Atop dust, whisper and
Desert highway.
I’d tell you if I were running,
But I’m not quite sure, not yet,
Leaving the Coyote to eat,
Respite, and devoured,
The singing Crickets,
A’howl later,
To deliver answers unimpeded.
I have a faint memory –
A snake’s grip promised, via hand and
Crystal contingency,
“Wiser,” once bestowed, the mystic;
An epic complete, atop 17 years of thunder,
Steel stained crimson,
Street stained whimper
And forever remaining,
“Under-construction.”
Symbolic a more relevant scaffold,
½ bamboo and the other steel, the tower,
Note ‘fore me, it’s only purpose –
Elsewhere, and anonymous,
While I tap my belly to some
Melody we’d once enjoyed;
Maybe something by, “Coltrane,”
Or maybe not; but music we’d both
Recognize and reminisce too.
It’s an awkward alchemy of sorts,
As the Crickets, post-mortem,
Persist if only to chirp, and the Coyote mulls.
When the dust continues to cake.
When the whisper finds newer ears.
When interrupt’s abrupt, erupts,
Pacifies and interrupts again;
My precious distraction –
An amnesia loyal in away from, “then.”
Somewhere beyond, “there,”
And onward, “anew.”
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
Cocky?
I beg to differ
There is someone out there
that is much better than me
So I don't believe, for one second
that i'm...
Conceded.
A word applied
To the beautiful people without
beautiful minds, embraced
by the ones less intellectually fecund
than they are...
Brazen.
Polished? I am.
Your feelings? Your worries?
******* I disregard not with brashness
But with angelic cause as my own problems
are significantly more...
Tectonic.
Shifting focus from
your meager existence
as my shear presence fills this page
Outraged? You created these proems
when daily topics I...
Eclipsed.
Full moon rising.
The lighthouse to your sinking vessel
I am not the best, but I am the best of
the better of you and your kind, lower-class
no offense, I speak...
Truth.
And the pain it brings
I don't worry about such things
I don't discount, but I do surpass
Their muggle mind with poise and sass
Dare I say I'm not cocky, just...
Confidently better than you.
Mar 24, 2011
Mar 24, 2011 at 12:29 PM UTC
some times i feel
like i got ******* on the deal
like democracy, politically
is mocking me, that's how i feel
fake news in times of need
empty promises don't feed
the needy getting left behind
pride getting pushed to the side
empathy and cold hard cash don't coincide
instead of big steps forward
we are falling behind, in a time,
where we, have no time for wasting time
generations of generations getting left behind
after generations of generations, its like genocide
our values dont match our history
told from either side
we should have learned something
instead we just let it ride
playing games with our future
using the hands of time
chasing our heads with tails
its only a matter of times
before we catch up with reality
and it blows our minds
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 2:44 PM UTC
Now the New Adventure excitement dares...
And...HUH? Your waiting Preview disappeared!
But, why? With so much Stories we do care
How fruitful and ******* your Holiday reared
You signed with a Smile; That much Girls adore
Inside the Jet would Paradise lay its Leis
From there the Codec stopped; Much I restore
What may have consumed the rest of the Day
Spottings? Cocktails? Folklore or Breaker-Dance,
None which I Follow or Dare to presume
This is your Notebook; Far to live by Chance
On how you Grow and Party in your Room.
Preserve your Courage. This is your Best Hour
To check New Frontiers; Increase your Mind by far.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
*I folded my cards
after I laid the last hand bare
And got ******* by a queen
and the sharpness of your aces
looking at jacks
a knave of hearts
and prince of diamonds
the choice is not easy
which to throw,
Which to keep
I dont fit in this deck
i'm in the wrong game
because the card closest to my chest is a joker
and it just doesnt figure Here.*
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 4:31 AM UTC
Roar Bean Got
Chosen
Sipping on taste
never forgotten
So miraculous power
rising.
Been told so
Boldly,
her uniqueness
Only it's mode of
attachment
Sips up on you like a
Goddess
in fragments
Her spell of the blend,
Coffee lips he was sold
kissed her hand
Mystical bow
Thought's love-arrowed
Through "Hearts" Wowed
All her poem's
Quick thinking
The (Quickie) hour?
Coffee lips ******* the
tower money showered
Home-body
Coffee__steamy
he raided my book
Crystal ball showed me,
"Everyone"
Oh! my he dated
(Holy-Coffee)
My Ego got inflated
Digging gold dreamily
Flower Lily mated and
seeded
Please "Lips" dream on
Opening up the invitation
Coffee? Me or You
Masquerade flower's brocade
Spellbound red poppy I fooled you
Coffee says cheesecake
Mystical play awake
Chosen One Bean
Clean Godly-scent
Cat nine rumor years.
coffee live's pretend
Million in one tear's
gallivant super stirred
Small World Cafe
Big University Princeton NJ.
Mister Mystical laptop taking
a sip New Jersey
The kaleidoscope Blueberry
Go Girl Godiva-raspberry
Coffee lip me
Not over my lip's
He takes another sip
Carmello, He's the
good fellow
Italian mob cappuccino
Leave the Cannoli
Take the gun movie set
"Tarantino"
Here's his handle I'm his
Secret Gun-it lips
I told you
my secret Streaming
play scout
The smell of his aura cup
In his eye's only James
No games just coffee?
Bonds
What about me?
Her chosen bean
Luna blue blueberry
His sugar flight
"Shimmering Chandeliers"
Hello musketeer's fight
Mystical Coffee well suited
BMW car's
Wedding Bellringer
We are destined to star is born
Judy my Mom the singer.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
xenophobia
the politics of stupid
where hate and fear rule
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
Lithium, light they write,
Like it’s right, white delight
Striking bright, better tight:
Fine and dandy.
Glamourised in our eyes
The surprise as you rise
****** heroised,
Bitter candy.
Pump the *** dump the dot
******* it hot, spatter spot
Sing a lot, dream but not
Craving luncheon.
Skagging sweet sweaty meat
Blisters well under heat
Take a seat, come compete,
Beating truncheon.
Vie d’artiste, or at least
Rising yeast, bubbling beast
Trickling triste down your cheeks,
Ever daring.
Rising up, sup the cup,
Acid drop, fizzle pop,
Shoobie-doo-doobie-wop,
Death to caring.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
Broken marriages have broken lives
******* up premises and high wire ties
Failed attempts to clear the air
Bring murky clouds in distant eyes of lies
I see you there clinging too hard
You see me here shedding the weight
Of your desperate grasp on my arm at the door
Lots of lives lead separate days
Clear up your eyes and let me go through
cc070311
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 5:58 PM UTC
I challenged him
burly ******* captain
stubbled beard as coarse as sandpaper
standing there in muggy dusk
arms akimbo,
mama san starched uniform stained with swagger and sweat
two silver captain's bars ******* any of my brilliance or bravado
all he had to do was speaketh the words
“need those maps, head out at 2230 hours”
and that was a death sentence
which was commuted to life
if four decades since has been life
there are not words for the black
of moonless jungle
except nothingness and paralytic fear
and through that lightless, lifeless, abyssness
I crawled, crouched and crept along
sometimes as slowly as the minute hand on my watch
the silence, the silence, the silence
became my splintered cross
to carry to my place of crucifixion
at my Calvary Hill behind barbed wire, blue lead barrels and
fearful eyes
silence, silence, silence, black wordlessness
black soundlessness
punctuated by shallow precious breaths
and imagined slant-eyed demons
waiting behind each berm
to turn the timeless night into timelessness
of more black
should I chamber a round?
and follow its solitary sound
into the silent holy night
and shatter my own fragile fright?
would that end this knowing without knowing?
and answer the question,
“is this fear worse than the answer?”
since questions have answers but answers have nothing
the nothing of which I was sure I would become a part
in the silence, the silence, the silence
of the black canopied jungle
in Tay Ninh Province
in 1967
where I was sentenced to death but allowed to live
in silent, black wordlessness
sentenced to live
to wonder, after all these years of shivering fright and flickering light
did the captain become a human?
And was I really allowed to live?
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 9:58 AM UTC
Donald Trump
will never make America great again.
The American dream is dead.
You are the one who killed it.
Dead with Lennie and the rabbits.
George is probably gone now too.
Depression. Couldn't live with himself.
Curley's wife never made it to Hollywood.
Still stuck in the bedroom,
with red ostrich feathers and ***** husband's
vaseline-filled glove.
His breath still reeks of rotten eggs;
only a matter of time before he gets sick - affluenza. Incurable.
Crooks isn't a man. Been diminished to nothing
but a shell. Hollow, and he believes it.
Candy and Slim, worked to death for minimum wage.
The American dream is dead.
******* by deluded denial.
Time to wake up and smell the rotting corpse of reality.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 6:37 PM UTC
*Depression stared at me from a doorway.
He growled at me, as a demon,
I slammed the door, terrified --
But the growling continued.
Pounding. Possessive. ******
Anger ******* stifling fear,
I opened the door and screamed
"I AM SCARED"
But my voice came out
As a growl.
As a whisper.*
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
Eulogising was a challenge
under constant bombardment
from falling masonry.
But the gathered crowd deserved the effort.
There was Honest Bob,
whose cut-price bricks
had won the tender
and built the edifice behind us.
Slick **** the concrete king
fresh from an industrial tribunal
and ready to pay tribute.
Fat Larry, the glass magnate,
dodging the shrapnel
from his wind-shattered panes,
just like the rest of us.
I raised my voice
amidst the crash and crumble
to praise the architect.
There were those who had forgotten
the terrible designs
that had been *******
by her dogged determination,
Her clarity of vision
(here, I was interrupted
by three roof-tiles in succession,
smashing at my feet),
her strength of purpose
(nine bricks and a length of plastic guttering)
and her shining conviction.
But here, in the shadow of the teetering mass,
we could all acknowledge
her unforgettable legacy
with pride and gratitude.
Champagne, truffles,
and off we all went,
helicoptered to who knew where
happily leaving others
to clear up the mess.
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 5:14 AM UTC
incessant vendors hawk their wares
popcorn, peanuts sold to you
ferocious beast tamed with chair
fortune teller leaves you blue
flirtatious girl on painted pony
promises to thrill, all plunder
not much real here, all is phony
trapeze artists paint by number
high wire acts above a net
flying past the bears and seals
photographs to catch the moment
ten dollar dogs to seal the deal
******* up shoes of circus clowns
magician shows his sleight of hand
children smile at painted frowns
the ringmaster this band commands
big top wonder, smoke and mirrors
he beckons crowds to catch the scent
*“oh young at heart, come gather here
to find the truth within my tent”*
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 8:49 PM UTC
Allure
Beauty from the sultriest with even steady glow exquisite soft lines is perfected in the creature
Dreams are resonant the eyes smolder all tender entry viewed from lips of lushness
Crowned with hair beyond mortal texture it perfectly accentuates loving doll quality’s full mixture
The promise held forth borders crossed unable to envision your dumb all filled with doubt as she pouts
The soul engages as the eyes flame and burn with passion the heart beats with hard thumps
Heavenly body formed from flesh in its force you reel emotional exhilaration extends to enthrallment
Hands touch the visible world seems altered the blood seems to halt its flowing the mind *******
Reconsider the alignment of the stars surly you have passed them in the silver moons glowing stream
The exotic has burst forth on a common stage all has juxtaposed the delirium takes free course
The dance now begun the coupled whirl started here ends among the marveling distant clouds
Enchantment has found its boundless geography it not on any maps it’s truly the heart at it’s source
Governed never the reins to this wild and free spirit has never been made that would be injustice
Has loveliness limits are the galaxies measurable how can they when their ever growing and bestowing
Featureless flawless curvy arts greatest inspiration told through a form that’s made to love and hold
If genius is ever is to be expounded bring the beloved of all men set her in the midst her essence flowing
The world speaks of desirability its fount its ever coursing real ideal is found in timeless womanhood
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:47 PM UTC
And what about the days
that don't come,
or the Hours not spent
buying flowers from Edeka?
Where do they go?
Do they join Walter
in some daydreaming
intermittent reality?
Is the Time
evaporated by Entrepreneurs
burning our candles
at both ends to turn
steam driven carbines
for our adiabatic work
cycles underneath Caves of Steel?
Is it enough to live
part of someone else's
dream because we know
that our's Comes this
way Wicked?
Actuators, cogs, brain bit,
and organoids all on Chips
or ships setting sail
into rosy fingered robots
of dawn.
Ahoy mateys!
We set sail for a Manifest
Destiny without O Captain,
My Captain; though the civil
struggle continues dressed up
in some ******* suit.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 10:11 AM UTC
We exist in difficult times.
When we have to choose between Them or They but we can't choose Us, this is a forced vote.
Our Nation and Government divided.
The media incredibly controlling.
We've let our thinking be shaped.
******* the sun because of a Hillary mountain.
We can not find love in politics.
Only hate and war.
Please look within your heart and soul.
This is a struggle for a new civil rights movement and a fair and equal government.
We are making America hate again, even though we know this country was also build by immigrants.
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
Oopy Doopy, Super Sloopy.
Loopy snoopy, pants apoopy.
Lippy hippy, slippy dippy.
Nasty-nicey, normally snippy.
Loosey goosey, chocolate moussey.
Usually *** goofy as Gary Busey.
Hinky-stinky presidential *****
Winky-blinky, dangerously stinko.
Hippity hoppy, flippy-floppy
Get a mop, it never stops.
Laughy gaffe-y, riffy-raffy
Face as gross as rotten taffy.
Whammy-bammy, scary scammy
Mammy-jamming Uncle Sammy.
Lumpy-dumpy, far from humpy
******* up future jumpy bumpy.
Glossy boss, a frightful loss
Ungathered moss at twice the cost.
Serious gap while the country naps
****** sap giving us a slap.
Frightening nooses tightening,
Rights denied like summer lightning.
Ignoring Popes and Snopes
Hopeless dopes put us on the ropes.
Immune to our cries, elected guys
Make horrifying decisions most unwise.
Like black magic before all our eyes
We’re leaderless as freedom dies.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
The moon’s luminous lighting replaced the sun’s piercing gleam
Flickering stars appear that remind me of strobe lights in a ballroom dream
Where everyone has a partner; all dashing knights and princesses
Adorned in armor, family crests, and pretty dazzling dresses.
A kiss and a bow a knight would gladly court his lady with
The pair is invincible as long as they are together
from this spark of love, they live happily ever after
Enchanted castles that promise to fulfill your deepest desire
Love’s iridescent reflections of beauty to admire
Lasting as long as forever in souls entwined
By say, magic, or enlightenment, or both combined.
Maybe love carries from life to life sowing
the seeds of dreams that yearned to be real
and so sparked the light that grew between two people, conceiving a deal
Of binding heart and soul
Thereby forever needing the other to make one whole.
But what about the lost souls that set out to find this other half?
Those that loved and lost it all and now they read about fairytales and laugh.
Ship these make-believe fantasies back to the sender
Or leave them with the offender that said to her,
“Things will be different, I promise.”
How many promises will be broken before her heart is?
In the end fairytales don’t really exist
Even the princess doesn’t always get the prince
Spells and eternal sleep can’t be cured with a kiss
Beauty isn’t locked in a tower with an evil mistress
Hardly anyone wears lace and frilly dresses
Happily ever after is ******* by impending death
Wishing upon a star takes a lot of breath
And for all that hope and relinquished control
It never granted a wish for a single soul
Jimminy Cricket never really stuck with it
Pinnochio got trapped in a fire and burned in its pit
All the tales are true, it doesn’t mean Disney’s sadistic
But he had a dream that the world neglected
When his spirit passed on from Earth, so went the gleam
Of a million heartfelt stories that once enchanted our childhood dreams.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 2:00 AM UTC
I kissed a rose in a garden,
an innocent bud newly formed,
out of pity. It’s beauty’s *******
by your cheerful smile, my love.
🌹
Jan 25, 2022
Jan 25, 2022 at 10:35 AM UTC
Being a parody of Abou ben Adhem by Leigh Hunt
(See glossary below for translation of italicized words)
By Yossel Zweben (1929- )
Moishe Ben Shlomo (may his nostrils drip!)
Awoke as they approached the landing strip
And saw within the cabin (business class)
A stewardess with an exciting ***
The badge pinned to her ***** said Lorraine.
A life of chutzpah had made Ben Shlomo vain
And to the well-endowed hostess he said
“I bet that I could land us on my head!”
The crew who had endured his endless yack,
Found this the straw that broke the camel’s back,
And to this trumped-up braggart they declared
“Our magazine contains a questionnaire
To test your aptitude to fly this plane.”
“What a metsieh,” thought Moish, wracking his brain
And mentally the crew echoed his thought
As, finally, they got the peace they sought.
When El Al published names that had been blessed.
Oy veh! Ben Shlomo’s name had failed the test.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
My thoughts
They can get scary
It's threats, more often than not, not empty
It's hard to convey what they say
They whisper a fray of cliche self hate with 41 years to work it's way to this level of decay
It's all consuming, engulfing then removing positivity 'til it's so scarce I'm left to pretend mostly
A sparse landscape of depravity naturally
Clear cut to make way for the fear factory
The soul fractures, now solely fear so to ward off lonely I let it stay
Not knowing how to play
Leaves me in the dark on what's at play
My thoughts
They aren't worth a penny
My two cents is free
I'd pay you to take them all completely
Is there a chance it gets messy?
Abso-freakin-lutely
But oh what a hero you could be
Imagine it up on a marquee, shining brightly
"Some dumb fuuck, a heros story"
(A family movie)
I'll be the monkey in the middle, come meet me
Come greet me and see purgatory, my state of temporary suffering and predetermined misery
What I'm forced to portray is only done cause I must obey or pay some ******* up penalty
Knowing I am the game and the prey, feeding a self-righteous gluttony
How much more do you want from me?
How much more must I contort for thee?
©2024
Jan 30, 2024
Jan 30, 2024 at 3:35 PM UTC