"turvy" poems
I rolled out of bed
to start my day,
but the power was off
my all electric home,
as still as a grave.
No coffee, or toast.
The refrigerator not cold,
the freezer started dripping
the contents soon to spoil.
No computer, no cell phone service!
I began sweating profusely,
no air conditioning to cool me.
Not even a TV Emergency Broadcast Alert,
to release this uneasy feeling of topsy-turvy .
I drove into town seeking a pay phone,
with not a single one to be found,
gone the way of the dinosaurs,
extinct now too I assumed.
My old truck had no computer chips,
most cars did and were dead in their tracks.
I needed gas but the gas station pumps
electric computer driven, all DOA to boot.
The Nations electric grid had crashed,
blacked out, stone cold dead everywhere.
All heavenly satellites blacked out, expired.
Everything computer related (and
that is about everything), had ceased
to function as had the electronic reliant
world we had created.
The street throngs of dazed people walked
around like zombies, clutching blacked out
dead computer devices, knowing not what to do.
Not even talking, forgotten I guess how to do that too.
As dependently defectively programmed as the useless
devices in their hands.
In a panic I did awake finding that
this scary dream world was indeed all fake,
a nightmare of fearful unconscious thinking.
My electric clock was still churning,
It's music alarm blaring,
birds outside still singing,
my cell phone started ringing,
it was merely another Robot call,
Welcoming me back to the 21 century.
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 10:51 PM UTC
A supine position
upon my bed
and a slow turning
of my head
I look out through my window
and by chance
LISTEN!!
Hearing the howling
and chilling desultory gusts
of wind
Noticing seemingly deceptive
immutable muffled
grey-white
low hanging clouds
enveloping everything
in its heavenly path
with coinciding
feelings
of being enclosed,
a slight hint,
the oncoming winter
A sunless sky also
matches the early November mood
as virtually motionless
elongated pearl-grey-clouds
having distinct
wind-kissed
topsy-turvy-wavy-ruffled bottoms
that travel and permeate
onward
across the heavens
These eerie vapors
s t r e t c h
from north to south
east to west
casting Buddism's
grey colored shadows
upon the earth below
while not permitting
any sky blue
to peek through
A distant howl and barking
of
a dog,
my inner volcano snuffed out,
the tranquilization of Hercules...
Time seemingly
stops altogether
and hangs...
... heated feelings
dissipate
into
cool nothingness...
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
the day the city we built came crumbling down is the day i asked myself over and over again:
were you not level headed,
were you tipsy turvy,
were you drowsy eyed,
when there were earthquakes erupting from your palms?
were you even ok,
when you shoved me in the back of your "junk drawer" in your mind
did you even try to know what it felt like when i erased you from my wasted time
did you flight or fight
or did you even try to understand
when your palms were trembling like earthquakes?
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
"And the older I get, the more I'm sure
That more by itself never was a cure
Some days I've got nothing to show for except
Walking the dog and walking the floor"
Mary Chapin Carpenter
<><><>
*it's been twenty years plus
who can remember exact,
the last time I had a full-time four-legged
companion to share my bed, greet my head with
wagging tail, and joy incessantly, overflowing and drowning me
with face lickings and hugs of a topsy turvy twisty body,
and smiles and curdling yowls of deep throated
cries of obvious joy and the
first thing I'll do when the nectar of next
life's staging begins to commence will be me to get
such a dog as heretofore I remember as an unadulterated purest joy,
I'll still walk the floor,
long walks, yup, outdoors, early morn,
and late afternoon day settling setting endings,
dog and me, freshly bathed, settling in to watch
some British crime and ****** mysteries sleuthed and
solved by folks I'll never meet, but whose company enjoyed
over the distance of an atlantic sea and about seven feet,
and maybe dog curls up next to me, by my pillowed
head, or between my happy to snuggle legs,
don't matter much, dog & me,
will discuss an alternating
rotation satisfying our
mutuality,
and even when I still walk the floor, which be a task for evermore,
he can walk beside me if he chooses, cause choice is
what's it all about*
with a true companion
nml
Aug 18, 2025
Aug 18, 2025 at 5:19 PM UTC
She walked barefoot in the desert and wore desert boots to bed.
My baby was topsy turvy dipsy swervy crossed up curvy clean out of her head.
A cast iron face that kept the truth bound and shackled.
Deep inside her head.
Self deception was her stock in trade and every choice she ever made was reasoned Wearing blinders.The snake that ate her tail
Her logic was.
Circular in nature no ending or beginning. Which guaranteed her winning
Regardless.
But only in her twisty wheelhouse.
Crazy as aa ********* rat.
Twisting facts into tasty pastry.
Seving them up on shiny ware.
Neither here nor either there
Calculating slipknot tension
Telling tales too tall to mention
The daughter of the pretzel maker
Part deluded.Rabid faker.
Pretzel logic
Pretzel minded.
Twisted now and twisted later.
Down the road I go.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
There is a woman I oft meet
On my journey here to home
Hey Lady!
I feign to shout.
My complexion's dark
But not my Soul.
So when you fright
On my approach
For
Goodness
Sake;
There is no need
To cross the road.
I'll feel that for a millennia,
ME
&
My kin
You so rudely
Robbing me,
Of the
opportunity,
To politely
Commune with you...
“good morning”
Then again,
You could be applying,
Learned street smarts?
Changing lanes,
Avoiding crossing paths.
This
Uptown
Downtown
Topsy-Turvy
Up-side-down
YOU'RE - SO - COOL
Pretending not to see me,
Hiding under your
Beats
Skull candy.
What sweet music
are you channeling?
Tunes contrary to Art?
Con
Artist
Purveyors
of
Catchy wicked things
Said twice?
High definition
'Stereo'
Types?
Shall we dance from a distance
Again tomorrow?
Yes of course!
For I believe,
You too have been deceived.
Hey! Ms. Concept,
R U
Thinking;
The beauty found in this deep Brown,
Predetermines fact that
I'm called
Black?
© Qwey.ku
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
The identity is not correct,
God’s people dishonored
and in a state of aggression,
Geographically topsy turvy,
the history is miseducation
Blasphemy spits in the
face of the Motherland
like mocking the wrath
of a silent Beast…
Like scorching the sky for Thunder…
We’re provoking Divine Intervention…
AND SO IT SHALL BE…!
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 4:16 AM UTC
You say to show you that I’m responsible
But every time I do you look away
You say I can't have this till I'm grown up
But how old do I have to be
You are always telling me these things
Always shouting in my face
Always applying just a little bit more pressure
But when are you going to start seeing the things that you have been missing?
You have always told me to act like my siblings
But when I do you scold me for doing so
You tell me to act my age
But when I do You ground me
How much more of this topsy turvy world must I take
How much more do you need to tell me
How much more do I need to show you
Why can't you ever be happy with just me
I may not always be responsible
But I am when it counts
I may make mistakes
But thats what I'm supposed to do
Can't you see how much has changed
Can't you see that I'm still not 5
You are eventually going to miss everything
I wish you would catch up to the RESPONSIBLE ME
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
He lives in fear
Some will discover
He lives in disguise
Like a spy undercover.
He lives in suspense,
Did he let something slip.
He lives in madness
Like a bad acid trip.
It’s a topsy-turvy world
Where lying is the stock-in-trade.
False approval from peers
Is the payment for deals he made.
The pats on his back
Are what he does the whole thing for.
The social approval gives
Gifts to him too grand to ignore.
He lives in fear
Some will discover
He lives in disguise
Like a spy undercover.
Pride in who he is
A distant world he cannot see.
An Everest to climb
That threatens his mortality.
He has to lie constantly
Or forget himself accidentally.
Telling the truth will
Remove his sense of morality.
He lives in suspense,
Did he let something slip.
He lives in madness
Like a bad acid trip.
He doesn’t trust feelings
They make of him a criminal.
His relationship with pride
And self-esteem is minimal.
That others can be free
Can never apply to someone like him.
He hears there is liberation
But his own chances are very slim.
He lives in fear
Some will discover
He lives in disguise
Like a spy undercover.
He lives in suspense,
Did he let something slip.
He lives in madness
Like a bad acid trip.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
**** that **** This is poetry now. Can you say it isn’t real? Can you say my lowbrow barbaric mind doesn’t express itself? Can you tell me these words aren’t art? **** that. This outcry is whats comin next.
Them burnt cars and bullet scars,
***** boots and tittie bars,
forget to bathe, **** the shave,
my pillow case is made of pave-ment,
twenty years late on that first pay-ment.
I asked the question but got delay-ment,
on what the **** has this all meant?
My colours just distract, them smiles just an act-
you think I’m tokin and ******* and happy go-lucking,
***** im drowning in the bills I haven’t even seen yet,
throwin off the debts as the horse that rolls the best bet,
and don’t forget,
every second you lay down to lie them eyes and theorize,
youre just getten burglarized,
want a burger and fries?
Twenty years off your life- oh and the change too.
Twenty seven ninety-five,
thirteen plus the years I’ll spend,
locked up with nothing to tend,
no garden, no fruit, no love to loot,
no wide eyes to fill and no breeze to shoot,
just a chain gain filling my ***** with soot,
stabbing by the next poor guy,
jabbing by that suit and tie,
the key is not to fit it right- so that every turn reminds who you belong to.
And this is what I wanna do?
Hold up- I pay for that ****
Now I understand suicide you nihilistic gits,
taking hits while the rest picks up the bits and the red runs the slits but no one sees the slip.
Topsy turvy sliding down the grassy knoll,
the heads tumble but the dough will never roll.
No.
Its busy ******* me in, me and my ilk,
like me too much an *** to be thankful for robes of silk,
mommy’s milk, eleventh hours and the stockpiles of the dowry.
Soft as a baby,
never ****** on the sour but the sweet,
pink feet,
earned on thin green sheet and the red as the man is beat, beaten and burned,
turned spurned despite his age and whats learned.
What is learned?
If only I could tell you.
We’s on the same track , don’t ask me whats gon spell true.
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 4:10 PM UTC
The forcible torrents rave on, ceaseless
Turmoil spins in a topsy-turvy wave
Bodies in shambles, minds twisted, restless
Drama and crises, emotions we crave
Twerking with the devil, licking the sledge
Morison's snake ride to "The (darkest) End"
Pushing the limits over the damp edge
Following and tweaking the latest trend
Emotional upheaval - rebellion
Creative juices overflow with paint
There is art in every great Hellion
But little ink flows from the mighty saint
Be content in the rich chaos of youth
It's the rains that nurture the seeds of truth
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
Hops and topsy-turvy jumps ― blurred movement
muddles across the dewy meadow floor,
as though dawn brushes away the sandman’s magic
from the corner of sleepy eyes,
to cast an enchanting spell
A sudden hazy yet abrupt stop…
hastily, halting , frozen motionless
Stillness, as if some final destination has been reached…
Neck stretched and craning,
tilted with an eye to mother earth ;
a canted focus beyond interruption
In the blink of an eye,
with a vigor too rapid to capture,
as the nowness of urgency flashes ―
She stretches the earthworm
with the grasp of subsistence
knowing after fall becomes the long winterlude.
The morning sun illuminates the glow of the native Maple’s
glorious fiery orange and yellow color palette
A steady stream of animation rushes in and out
of the giant tree’s golden splendor
Abundance perishes with the seasonal gardens decay.
Mornings of blueberry and strawberry feasts
have left the red breasted robbers foraging
for the last rotting apples the deer have left behind.
Harbingers of spring…
Blueberry sneakers…
Gleaners of fall and winter..
“Teeek” “tuk” “tuk” “Tseep”....
fills the overhead air
with a beautifully chaotic verve
The flock returns repeatedly to and fro the towering Maple
to the ripened cornucopia of scarlet berry clusters of the Mountain Ash
The Robin’s flock ravage and gorge on the plentiful delights
Soon the crimson berries fuel of flight will disappear
as if it were only an unspoken allusion
of the passing seasons
The pearl gray sky is an ominous backdrop
for the fickle fleeting migrants
Daylight fades as the flock disappears
into a break in the clouds
fleeting unto the ominous pending winter sky…
In the blink of an eye ... life’s senescent seasons
transform the stormy whirling winds of change
bearing the golden Autumn leave’s splendor
across the rolling vista
like a higgledy-piggledy murmuration
of a migrating beautiful mess
The naked rooted scaffold’s branches stretch
across the sprawling tapestry of the wooded sanctuary.
Winter flocks of Thrush and Robins,
arrive on a frosty new dawn
Red breast feathers puff with the morning sun’s rays,
warming the tree tops leaning toward the southern sky;
Their journey here and now,
from distant mountainous horizons,
is part of a soul’s sacred circle of life…
November rivers ...the final autumn entry of 2017
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 10:26 AM UTC
What if Escher had it right
and "within" is really "without,"
and stairs turn inside out
and "up" is just the same as "down?"
Imagine if you will
a "topsy-turvy" sort of place
(or is that "turvy-topsy")
where time marches retrograde
and all effects precede their causes.
I know, I know, your life is busy
but can't you drop it all for half a day
and step out with me
(with Escher at our side)?
We'll cross the edge of time and space
where an alternate universe or two
is just a dream away.
Hurry up now (or then), let's go!
We have to get back
before the sun ascends in the west!
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:20 AM UTC
Dream !
Dream !!
Dream !!!
Ever wonder
Why dreams matter?
***
Do we dream fiction,
Or we dream our fears,
Or we dream our aspirations,
Why do we dream at all??
***
Sometimes of
A drowning floods,
A ruined fort,
Babies playing around,
A chaos, a commotion,
Sometimes of loved ones
Who are long past dead,
Sometimes of the ex-lover,
Who had once been our friend.
***
Day dreams,
And sleeping dreams,
Subconscious dreams,
And coma dreams,
Next life dreams,
And death bed dreams,
Near death dreams,
And God vision dreams,
Dreams to see us on top,
Dreams achieved against all odds..!!
***
Sometimes,
I wonder
Is not our lives,
A God's own dream?
And that's how we
move around HIM!!
Some days are
happy another
too heavy,
When our whole
world goes
Topsy turvy.
Just like scenes of our dreams,
If we become characters of HIS dreams,
Doesn't life become better understood??
***
If we become part of His dreams,
Can we not better understand -
Why are we stuck
in between the sea?
Why is our town flooding?
Why did the accident
**** our loved one?
Or why did our baby die?
Why did we fail?
Why are we blessed
with success?
Or just the thought
WHY ME??
***
This thought makes life less complicated,
To love,
To move,
To live,
To die,
The smiles,
The cries,
We are just HIS walking dreams,
And so,
***
Now we don't have to blame HIM for our hard times,
We just have to wait for HIS better dreams..!!!
***
SPARKLE IN WISDOM.
AUGUST 2018
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
Spin spin Sally, spin spin,
Right into damnation, right into Sin.
Topsy-turvy Sally, topsy-turvy in the din.
Let the black wolf in, Sally
Let the carnal win,
Let the madness in, Sally
Remember with a grin;
''Stay thin, think gin.''
And give release Sally.
Fire bullets through the tins
Ride ******** through the wind
**** your karma,
**** your kin,
Spin spin Sally,
Spin, spin.
Topsy-turvy Sally,
Topsy-turvy in the din.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
I
Didn't
Need any new
Friends in my full life
Yet you interred my life with
A furry and vigor that couldn't be denied
Turned my world up side down
Making it topsy-turvy
Thank you for
You and
I
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
In a second my life changed like i could never imagine
The world was all Topsy turvy
and i a floating object in the turmoil
A simple six letter word
Thats all it took to take my stable world away
Upon that fateful day I was 15 and the date was May 12 2008
My diagnosis Hodgkin's lymphoma stage 2 B
My freedom was stolen from me
School i could no longer attend
People i could no longer see
The world was shut away from me
Chemo and Radiation were my companions
Aiding me in my time of need
But the truth in that was they were killing me more than saving
Strong of heart was I
I would not be taken down
I tried to show no fear or sorrow
And now am thought a strong young lady by many others
The most glorious day was when the cancer went away
September 28 2008 i was told
After I regained the freedom i had lost
four months later did my true story unfold
January 12 2009 I knew something was wrong
I was right I had not yet won the fight
Hodgkin's lymphoma was back to greet me
This time worse stage 4 B had me captured
A junior in high school i had been
But now once again I could no longer attend
Chemo my friend, we were reunited
I guess it missed me
This time a new component was introduced
Bone-marrow transplant, Auto stem cell
After tackling these feats I met radiation again
September 2009 i was said to be free
it was like history repeating itself
But this time i was wary
now it is July 4 2010
I am heathy, I have graduated
but the damage my six lettered fiend has reaped upon me is still here
An immune system i no longer have
My life still on pause
But i do not care
Because i know what its like to have your life dissipate without warning
Life is like a flame it can be snuffed out in a second
So remember my words
Please
Dont let any regret into your life
Dont pass a single moment by
Live love and try
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 2:50 PM UTC
we’re not lost,
we’re just a little
topsy turvy today
but who says the
ceiling has to be up
when we’re both so low?
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
Cranky clitorous
Shaking in bliss.
Topsy turvy,
Give me a tickle.
Give me a lick,
Like lollipop sugar sweetness -
You've got a candy coated tongue.
Twitching legs.
Raking nails across
Crumpled sheets.
Don't cry baby,
Even though it's beautiful to die.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
Happiness, sadness grips me
I stop, I pause, I freeze
Topsy, turvy, tipsy
An attitude in the breeze
This way, that way, this and that
Changing minds, changing clothes
Anger, fear, terror, and laughs
Really, anything goes.
The agonizing headaches
Constantly switching sides
The happiness and the heartbreaks
Change in heart, change in tide.
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
A lot can happen in a week,
Let alone in one whole year.
Many dreams can be shattered;
Many rights can disappear.
Things can all be topsy-turvy.
Foundations of democracy
Can crumble from the constant blows
Of madness and hypocrisy.
In a flash a nation whose
Ideals helped it achieve its dreams
Can lose the threads that held it together
And start to fall apart at the seams.
In an instant, something that we
Took for granted--freedom for all--
Can grieve over its final performance
As it waits for its curtain call.
In a short period of time,
Progress made in human rights
Can find itself desperately
Groping through the darkest of nights.
In a matter of days, a small
Group of people driven by greed,
Thirst for power, and grotesque views
Can choke a nation with frightening speed.
But ALSO in a matter of days,
More people can open their eyes
And read between the lines and see
Scores of manipulating lies.
In this same period of time,
People can dig in their heels and say,
"Together we stand; we refuse
To let our rights be taken away."
- by Bob B (1-29-17)
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
Entice on its flavor
Suffer and adore
Topsy-turvy yet happy
Afflicting, coffee can be
Sip it, be contented
Linger on its power
One must adroit to embed
Coffee is hard to endure
One touch, be wary
There’s no hope exit
Pain through coffee, defeat
A synecdoche of a story
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC
Who made you the centre of my universe?
Because it sure wasn't me.
Do you think that I want my life to revolve around you?
like i'm just a planet orbiting the sun,
A pair of jeans in the washing machine
Or flotsam in a whirlpool.
I don't suppose you'd understand,
How dizzy I get,
after a day around you
Or even a few moments.
How I can't keep my balance
And the world sort of tips
till' everything is inside out
backwards and all mixed up.
Except you.
because for some reason
the only stable thing
in this topsy-turvy world
is you.
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
**Topsy and Turvy, hassled and harried
jostled among a jungle of jumble,
so busy they beavered, in search of a bauble
upon all the shelves, so deftly they delved,
... within the lair of the piffling frippary.
They ambled and rambled, so giddy they gambolled
and sought for that trivial trinket or trifle,
they rummaged and rifled, their eagerness stifled,
through struggle, they strived, from nine until five,
... within the lair of the piffling frippary.
Staunch but stressed, their zest so hard pressed
for until discovered, found and recovered,
they muttered and spluttered, and audibly uttered
within the lair of the piffling frippary,
... persuing that piece of paltry frivolity.
Now flagging, they floundered, not finding the foible
in shambles they rambled, revealing reluctance,
and ceding, conceding, they threw in the towel
on trembling, tottering knees they now tumbled,
... out of the lair, of the piffling frippary.
... ... ...**
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 10:42 AM UTC
I am soft and gentle
and bring a clarity
to the dark night.
I wear a loving darkness
like a comfortable cloak.
I am the vanishing vampire
puff puff you see me now i
am gone.
For I am the creature
of the night.
When your world caves in
your emotions turn to
darkness.
Just listen deeply and
you may hear me flutter
in the blackness.
For you are not alone
as your friend I am here.
A gentle creature comfortable
in the night.
I am the sometimes the forgotten
hidden in the corner in my cave
there i hang.
We live our lives upside down
sometimes living our teens
in our thirties.
As we slip into caves through
cracks often hiding in places.
We light the night with
sound, magic and our
emotional moon.
Soft and angelic we are
so innocent in nature.
In this topsy turvy land
we turn the world upside
down and find GOD also
lives underground.
So we never fear or
feel claustrophobic this
darkness is our home.
I never waste my time
looking to the future
to me it is all a blank.
And there i find my freedom
no burden or expectation.
I am the deep sleep that
has no dreams.
Perch with me in my cave
I will give you silent night
I am your greatest ally
in the darkness.
As I fly into blackness
with speed and purpose
There in the moonlight
I detach myself
spread my wings
find my freedom
Out of site I vanish
from the world
for only
those who look into caves
their darkness will ever
have a chance to find me.
Sometimes I fly high
breaking into the night
turn of my sound
and just disappear.
I relax sit back
into the my void
have a break
from myself.
Puff puff i am he vampire
who has just gone.
Remember when your world
caves in turns to darkness.
Do not panic just disappear
into blackness.
You will hear me flutter and
know I am near.
For with a little bat
becomes very clear.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC