"tweens" poems
this is the dwelling where wind is a bell and a beacon for death.
where youthful pursuit is punctured by family names or famine of fortune.
boys in bands buoyed by Onos and shared women.
lawyer fathers and social ***** mothers whose children are forbidden to **** up.
one street reserved and smothered by talking townsmen
whose belligerent brides keep tabs on their fellow middle-aged malicious
minded low-lifes
engorged in gossip are the parading fat men who rise early to feed off ones business capital tragedies
****** shortcomings of the stuck and single prey off tweens tweeting of body glitter and b-cups.
clique chick coquettes play house with their shiny image seeking male counterparts
who sing songs of their leather faced lady friends with plastic claws they now admit they would never marry
antagonizing cute couples secretly copulating with former loves' lust
only to mingle with conspirators molding to dominant thought
once a waitress always a waitress
with overdrawn bragging rights and unemployment checks
serving snobs like themselves who sip savignon
self-righteous polo popping perverts accompanying their prized play things
who join the charles river emigrants and stale french pastries
scouting the waste colored palace of prejudice.
now blades of winter draw months of blue blood
bringing forth frozen thoughts slowly dripping onto thawing skin.
another warm summer sun forthcoming
foreshadowed by this wind-chafing forlornness.
though i will fall in love again
and bridge rats will always be kings.
Apr 21, 2011
Apr 21, 2011 at 3:33 PM UTC
I know everything about
tobacco.
Cancer stats,
asthma stats,
usage rates among teens
tweens
and young adults.
Give me five minutes
and you can have a list of the taxes on tobacco
arranged by state
(alphabetical or by rank?)
and a dozen studies that all say
"smoke up, Johnny, it's good for you!"
Data is my nicotine and I am hooked.
We're surrounded by
Smoke, Lies, and the Nanny State
and no one gives a ****
Follow the rules
and hide your smoke,
your *****
and keep away
from the kids.
Carcinogens in hot dogs
are all well and good
because there's
"nutritional value"
but you can't eat a cigarette.
Eat your lies and **** your e-cigarette like a lollipop because that's the cool thing these days.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
Standing in this sphere
I seek communion with the Stars
Heat and dust for hidden answers
I wonder wonder where they are?
Bursting into gates I dawn my robe like a heavyweight
Wandering thru the distance I am guided by the Wake
skim the outer rim clouds dissolve revolve or scatter
but I'm focus on the mission I'm surfing streams of gray matter
burn to shine walk the line define gravity : the Force
untethered in this universe My vision on the course
I fast devoid of sun or moon
comet of the galaxy I'm bound to Windu
I am Master of the unseen epoch
I foreshadow the battle whether it
yet be not true
You know like Yoda, I do
I'm staring/speaking into the nebular
what will birth from this mother nurse?
As I transverse like silver surf
Don't act like I can't create Heaven on Earth
I'm meditating on the cellular
my midichlorian ***** is buzzing like a church!
No alms needed I'm lighter when lit unified with this (galactic ****
light sight like solo omni verse
Re
Y
Me
So far not tea grow VOTE
The dark side outta Ben is Bern it's my turn speaking truth into these chicken boot tweens in Twitterverse
PLUCK A FEATHER
And make an ill quill
Letter!
A retweet beat writer
Faux Father but a real goal setter
Hope ya feel better
OR
A
Curse
I DON'T NEED A LIGHT BEAM!
Less is more like an invisible burst
I could cuttlefish but I'd rather soar
With everyting I've learned!
I am more than hate is worth
No matter measure of endeavor
light speed hyper space ever nearer to the source
I
Inhale Trees Exhale breeze Interstellar
Squeezed
Me out
A Feat at first
Then
knees bows spout nose and cranium
If i didnt know better id say my bones marrow vibranium
One bout won!
The night win some but they just lost one!
If i couldn't make words then i guess I'd just hum! I was born with this voice and this voice has sung
I was born with this force and with this force I run into
Entwined and unleashed all is bound to the Force
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC
Then again, your Trek for the World resume
Since Two Million Tweets placed your Scales on Top
For the Plym's Fine Arts deny their Bid consume
By Theories bid on your Commitments flop
Though demanding may be your Prime Support
Which most would Bellow your Extracted Youth
Would one Understand these Issues report
Beyond such Volumes of your Weaning Truth
After all, Tweens do tend to Toast the Shows
Then let Moralled Queries compound Debate
Since Youth the Adult's Pad much Air would blow
Then burst borne Viruses and Flies too late.
Such they Prevent - your Groupie's Quarantine
To Sand your Frame preserve Smooth and Pristine.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 12:58 AM UTC
Only a year ago, we were all just kids thinking we held forever at our fingertips.
Invincibility was upon us as we stepped on campus for the first time as students,
Beginning our journeys into the unknown realm of college.
Everything was new and exciting;
Classes, food, activities, clubs, schedules, people…
Remember how we didn’t want to go home?
The best place in the world to be, at the time, seemed like it was right there.
If we left for a second, we would miss the whole planet,
Be left out of the loop for an entire week.
High school seemed too close and too far,
And we were stuck in this limbo where we were not sure how to act.
Running around like tweens out past their curfew,
The upperclassmen were so cool, and calm, and collected…
We aspired to be like them one day,
Copying the way they blended into this campus with so many colors.
And slowly but surely, we have…
Without even realizing it, we have matured worlds, and
Realization has dropped itself into our hands where pixie dust sat before.
Isn’t it funny, now, watching the new group of freshmen repeat the cycle?
Looking back, I thought life was so easy.
The only cares I had in the world were attending class and finishing homework.
Making friends appeared to be simple; keeping them did, as well.
Things seemed to fall into place as if they knew where to be dropped.
Now, we make things happen for ourselves rather than sitting back and watching.
Instead of running aimlessly, we stride with a purpose.
For we know our niches and where we are needed most.
Our eyes sparkle even brighter, I believe,
Because we have found a place where we belong and want to be.
I am waiting now, looking at this group of new kids,
And wondering how long it will be before the change happens to them.
How long will it take for them to realize that home is not such a bad place to be?
As a matter of fact, as I sit here in the room I grew up in,
I feel nothing but nostalgia that makes me want to be nowhere but here.
Here, I have no worries, and I can reflect on this past year and how much I have grown.
Growth. Isn’t that something that we forget about?
Assessing how far we have come over the past twelve or so months?
Because I now see with open eyes, where before, I merely just looked.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
I love all my fans,
Every woman and man.
Like, follow, subscribe,
Numbers are my pride.
Leave a comment below,
No criticism please.
If you do speak your mind,
I'll send my army of tweens.
Everyone should trust me,
My opinion is authority.
I deserve more views,
If I'm a minority.
Clickbaits, challenges,
And collabs galore.
If I stay generic,
I'll surely earn more.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 1:24 PM UTC
The fire roared, I quiver my chin
As I sat there and cried when my mother ran in
To save the life of my dear little brother
He came out safely... but what about mother
When Jason was born, my father left
Later on he was arrested for violence and theft
At the hospital Jason and I yelled out
Where is our mother, we cried a shout
Than the police man told us the terrible truth
How we had to go to a place filled with youth
It had babies, toddlers, tweens, and teens
But what about my mommy... what did the police man mean
Years later I sat in a hard wooden chair
Facing a couple with blue eyes and blond hair
I won't go with them, they won't tear me apart from my brother
They won't tear me apart from my mother
I sat on a window seal
No one will ever understand the sadness I feel
No one... tears escaped from my eyes
As I sat and watched the years pass by
Why is my life so worthless
As it takes away people that I will miss
Why do I feel like crap
As I face the basic fact
That how I can't reverse the time
How I can't take control of the life which is mine
All I want is my brother back
All I want is my mother back
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
You know what would be miraculous.
The comprehension of reality among the populace in general.
That would be a miracle.
We live in an age where these twenty something tweens believe that they are all,
One second from stardom.
Newsflash!
It doesn't matter how many people
Follow you on Twitter,
Friend you on Facebook,
Or how many followers you have for your YouTube channel,
If you can't find a single original thought for yourself
In that pop music filled-
Romance and Action movie watching-
Book of the month club reading-
Head of yours,
If you can't think and feel for yourself
YOU ARE NOT A STAR
You are a hack.
You are just normal.
Like the rest of us.
So stop trying to get discovered,
And start
Thinking,
Feeling,
And Creating
Something for yourself.
Something for the world to see.
Something original.
Because you can't get by on the coat tails of others forever.
Sooner or later you will need to survive on your own.
And then when you've created something on your own.
Something worthwhile.
Something from your heart.
Then you have a chance.
A small chance,
But still a chance
To be a star.
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
THE ALLAN FAMILY STORY, BRIAN’S A YOUNG DUDE
YOUNG DUDES ARE PEOPLE WHO GO TO NIGHTCLUBS AND PARTY
AND THEY HAVE A LOT OF FUN, YEAH, THEY ARE CLASSED AS YOUNG ADULTS
BUT I PREFER TO CALL TWEENS KIDS, BACK IN THOSE DAYS, AND AS SOON
AS THEY TURNED 13 AND INTO *** AND MUSIC, THEY ARE YOUNG DUDES
AND THEN THEY STAY YOUNG DUDES, TILL THEY ARE 25, BUT SOMETIMES
IT NEEDS TO GET OUT THERE, YOU SEE, MY FAMILY BECAUSE
NO I DON’T TAKE DRUGS, BUT I LIKE TO PARTY, YOUNG DUDE BEHAVIOUR
I LIKE TO LISTEN TO PROPER MUSIC, YOUNG DUDE BEHAVIOUR
GOING ON THE COMPUTER, TO PLAY MUSIC YOUNG DUDE BEHAVIOUR
BUT COMPUTER GAMES IS FOR THE KIDS, I KNOW KIDS ARE YOUNGER THAN ME
BUT I ALWAYS SAY A YOUNG DUDE WILL GO OUT AND PARTY HARDY
YA KNOW, I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A KID, CAUSE I LIKE HEAVY METAL
I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE AN OLDIE EITHER, ONLY BECAUSE, I AM NOT OLD
BUT I HATE WHEN PEOPLE CONTRIDICT ME
MY VERSION OF A YOUNG DUDE IS BETTER, BECAUSE THEY DO PLAY MUSIC
AND THEY DO, GO OUT TO PARTY, IN NIGHTCLUBS
I THOUGHT MY MATES AND MY BROTHER AND DAD UNDERSTOOD THIS
I THINK LOOKING AND THINKING LIKE A YOUNG DUDE IS GOOD FOR ANY MIDDLEAGED PERSON
I DON’T WANT TO BE TREATED LIKE AN OLD FOGIE WHO WANTS TO DIE
I AM A YOUNG DUDE, AND I KNOW THE KIDS ARE SAYING THEY ARE YOUNG
WELL, YES, I NEED TO EXPLAIN MY VERSION OF A YOUNG DUDE
I THOUGHT PEOPLE KNEW WHAT I MEANT WHEN I SAID I WAS A YOUNG DUDE
BUT I MAKES ME ANGRY, I WANT TO LISTEN TO THE COORS
I WANT TO LISTEN TO HEAVY METAL, LIKE A REAL YOUNG DUDE
I DON’T WANT DAD TELLING ME TO BE A KID, NEH I WILL SAY
I LIKE WHAT I AM DOING ON YOUTUBE, AND IF THAT MAKES ME A WOOSEY
I GUESS I AM A WOOSEY, BUT I AM NOT A WOOSEY, I AM A COOL YOUNG DUDE
YOU SEE, I HAVE GROUPS LIKE MANS KID FIXES UP TO THE MEN, I AM NOT THAT, **** OFF ANYONE WHO THINKS I AM
A LADIES KID, WELL, I LIKE THAT A BIT, BUT I HATE THE SMOTHERING IT BRINGS
AN ADULT, NOT SHY TO GO TO BED, NOT ME, I SLEEP ON THE COUCH
A YOUNG DUDE BEING CREATIVE, PARTYING LISTENING TO MUSIC, THAT IS ME TO A TEE
MY YOUNG DUDE IS A STRUGGLING BUDDHIST ARTIST AND WRITER AND YOUTUBE ENTERTAINER
WHO LOVES TO PARTY
I PREFER MY YOUNG DUDE, MORE COOLER FOR ME TO PORTRAY
I HATE KIDS THINKING I AM CRAMPING THEIR STYLE
TEASE YOUR PARENTS, CAUSE I AM A COOL PERSON, BUDDY
I AM A YOUNG DUDE AND PROUD OF IT
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC
And now this Purse-Seine Friend identify
Responsible for such so-called un-Friend
For your own Shakes; My Trust un-qualify
Tampered my Meanings to Reach and Amend
Why? Will such Actors breached under the Hood
Infest and Assault your Just Normalcy?
Which Tweens are Apt; As apt Growth understood
Express their Wild Fluids since Infancy
If from Nursery was I employed since
Then Trained to butter these Rant Bullies forth
That Bully called LIFE; His Sluggers which mince
Make retail and reform his own True Worth.
A Planker he be; And Boarder discover
Pray his Soft Career; And Good Points recover.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 3:02 PM UTC
Sometimes I think
We were meant be
Perhaps in another dimension
You and me
Met in a coffee shop
At some small university
Or maybe our parents were friends
And we met as babies
Grew up as best friends
Became lovers at eighteen
Perhaps you were the king
And I was your queen
In some faraway Kingdom
Barely out of our Tweens
Or maybe we met
One night in a dream
Wanting to be real
Like ghosts want to be seen
I still think about you
Though I only see you in dreams
I wish it weren't true
But we're stuck in this dimension
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
I don't know who I am without her.
Before Ana I was a child and in the in be tweens been fighting to get away.
But who does that make me?
First child.
Then starving hatred.
With dashes, small sprinkles of wanting recovery.
Wanting Salvation, but knowing nothing other than how to hate and how to punish because I've forgotten what it is to be a child.
Now I know how to starve better, to be hungry longer.
I know How to please her, which is how I please myself.
But does that really make me happy?
Is this what I was meant to do?
Was I meant to live inside the cage of my mind, doomed to this suffering?
For what?
To reach my ideal of bones?
What does this make me?
Who would I be without her?
How would I live without these guidelines?
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 2:31 PM UTC
Is today the day I finally wake up
And start accepting that my life
Is not just something that happens
But something that comes from strife?
Will I finally agree that ambition,
If it is not present inside of me,
Sets me on no forward path at all,
And instead leaves me in entropy.
Will I see for myself, that battle
Is always being waged between
Getting where I really need to go
And some fairy tale in a magazine?
Will I quit looking at friendship
As a search for a good joke?
Or I will finally stop letting my skirt
Be a place for people to blow smoke?
Will I stop finding excuses for sloth
And do the harder things to succeed?
Will I finally see that there are more
Than two motivations, hunger and greed?
Will I take care of my moral housekeeping
As well as I do my home and my car?
When someone mentions caracter traits
Will I even know what those things are?
Every day of life when I was younger
It was always so easy to kick back
And do nothing much of anything about
Those tenets of true adulthood I lack.
I preferred to lie around on my ****
And let other people do all the work
Then have another can of beer, laugh
And call them all just mindless jerks.
All that was fine for endless decades
Then recently I began to look up and see
That my life is a tale of no headway made.
There were four constant pals, one was me.
With dead-end jobs, and dressed the same,
Just as we did when we were tweens.
Here we were middle-aged do-littles
Smoking dope in old 501 jeans.
So, I’m changing directions as of today.
I’m buying some decent clothes to wear,
Shaving my lip beard off right now
And taking some time to fix my hair.
I want to look on the outside as if I were
Less I was something inside more than dust.
I’ll get a real job, save money and then
I know I’ll do more than sit around and rust.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
mist stretches along the tops of trees, bosoming coldly over the brush
like the bodies of lost souls
like the words that hang from the page
withering, wilting ghosts
that threaten to slither from their place
wobbling wraiths I'd traced;
my heart's yearn to spit its hopeless thought -
reduced to something like child scribbles,
like nonsense I'd etched with my non-dominant hand
with blithering, faltering pen
I swing like the moon between two phases
sure, unsure
how long will I sit here?
a few lunations scramble past my head
words on words on words
blend together in sequences of lines
that I no longer recognize
as anything close to cognizant
I read the lines again
dismantle, disassemble them
eyeful work;
like science sates its spirit
by prodding at the seams of the earth
no fear that it may unfix
the stars that string like stanchions in the sky
heaven's performance toppling
my words collapse before me
nothing more than a brief hiccup
before their quiet, noon oblivion
miscalculated blots that do nothing but spoil the purity of the page
I crinkle it, toss it behind me
grab a new sliver of square
uncrinkled, uninked
I stare into the ceaseless white
brinking, unblinking alabaster
immaculate - the center of nonexistence
so foreigning; a burgeoning sense of casuality within me
I remind myself that it is a piece of paper
but do I dare soil it?
ebony tweens from the pen as I press
callous deflowering;
assaulting the page with senseless drivel I will realise
five to ten seconds after I write it that I hate
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 9:33 AM UTC
Cameras watching all around
Around around, they watch you frown.
They watch you sigh they watch you cry,
When you want to die and set aside
All the things that make you sad,
All the things you think are bad.
Eyes blinking, peering down.
Down down, they watch these clowns.
They watch us scream they watch us dream
All the wisdom and hate as it enter-tweens.
When poets raise their fists in the air,
And "Please be civil", bigots declare.
These orbs, crystal clear,
The very vision we all hold dear.
When we laugh and when we cry,
When all we do is yearn to die,
The eyes lift up and make it clear,
Our struggle is the only reason we're here.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 7:32 PM UTC
Sunday poolside
Prelude for tomorrow's Spring,
It's first day, midway in March,
Weeks away from the month of May.
And I decide to cool my inner heat
In the gurgling soup of the jacuzzi
Whiles the unaccompanied tweens scream
And play a made up game
A hybrid of polo basketball and puberty...
No clue how conversations start,
But a friendless me talks and talks
Unable to stop, even when they disperse...
I talked to myself mostly,
Or if they were listening, the ears that heard,
Advice on life, trying to wake up the herd
The void wears a teenager's face
And in the sounds of summer
This prelude day to Spring,
Splashing and laughter and a toddler's cooing
I observe my voice drifting
Up and through the fence of steel bars
Eroding, rust colored water
On grey cement and murky turquiose...
I talk and it feels like I'm under water
Their attention span as transient
As Vegas itself...
I talk about myself honestly,
I gave them real advice
From the mistakes of friendless me,
what it will take to succeed
For a future they could care less about
And Life!
Must of talked about nothing
Talked mostly to myself
The day before spring, all heat and not much else,
I felt something hollow then
Recognizing Hell
The void mimics reality well
when was it I fell?
*(Sensing greys in their shells... The rising heat...
Midnights distant tolling... Trumpets and bells)*
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 11:26 PM UTC
I'm not an Academic
Cannot give a lecture
When I die there will not be
A Witherell Conjecture
Once I was a teacher
Teacher of the tweens
Now I live alone
Rothko blues and greens
Women are unkind
Smoke gets in your eyes
I.P. Freely
George W. Lies
2 prayers for Chicago
3 for Susan Meek
7 for my sons
7 days a week
**** Nerd. Absurd. Geek.
Jul 29, 2023
Jul 29, 2023 at 1:14 AM UTC
This poem brings a surprise,
Once I came home with bits of pies
In my hair, kids did what they dare,
Food fights all over everywhere,
All part of sacramental life,
Church celebrations full of strife,
No, I am not kidding,
In cream puffs we were skidding,
This Dracula finally left the scene,
You try teaching all those tweens!
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 4:52 PM UTC
In the end what a dream
and when it ends
and we dream
we dreamily seek to see to the end
all that has yet begun
til then
then again
I will send
for it to all end again
And to the end,
I welcome again
another tear,
parted from hearts departed
wondering where souls lay
frosting
quiet
cold
chalaced in warmth of old
tales spoken with delight
by a quiet winter's fire
singing bountiful delights
as pirates dance
it's majesty ascending
sweetly seeing to the end
the bitterness within and
then again
Understand it
and say it when
it's to be spoken to those that then
chose to speak again
and with it's end
I must seek to say when
I said again
I meant it
to be and the end
was not to send me
flying freely
when I must wonder
tears falter,
failing,
floundering
watching wearily
talking,
wringing
painfully tearing
hearts apart
with time
and a start
it will be mine
this part
to the end
all ends depart
and with that an end again
and to begin
and to send
it will be then again
that I will understand that it's the bitter end
to whence for when I sang
I said it loudly
proudly
and began to sing again
when will I send
it's true
it was meant for you
to see what was to be
and to be free of me
and to be free to see
what it was to be
and to say again
that you are my only friend
Fear not dear end
I will say it then
I will begin to see
I will begin and see
and you will see me
in tweens and hearts
and with me
will there always be
all that's been longing
and with it's hart
I seek
and I wonder
and I wander there
home again
to be me
free to be
free
seen
departed
meant to me
to be
all that I'd ever leave
again I cry
I wondered why this time
and in the end
I begin to see
it's fluent
it's divine
it's meant to be spoken
said and wondered
and through me once one day I
will sound it loudly
and say with care and take them
there again
for it was never a heart's tale to dream
sweetly,
swinging with the winds wafting toward
certain despair
sparing no man,
no understanding
no way
understand and then believe
I'm meant to be free
Free of you
and to be
what I meant to be
what I said to me
to the worlds I've said to be
and all that I've meant to me
Feel strongly
sing and dance
it's great the quiet within hearts all crying
I will depart
and will sing with sweet songs
Dear heart
please sing with me
I will never fear
I will never understand
all that was to bear
and to be
and that was seen
even through me
May it be again
those words singing sweetly
there
Another end.
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 12:52 PM UTC
THE ILLUSION
When we are small, small
We always fall, always fall
A small scar it may leave,
But insignificant we believe, we believe
When we are teens, tweens,
We always fall, fall, fall,
A small, small scar it may leave,
Our very self, self it smothers we believe,
Crazy, crazy, crazy, life sings, sings,
A monster every shadow brings, brings,
Our knowledge is at its peak we speak, we speak,
The monster, destroying, dying, dying we squeak,
Emptiness we feel, loss, hopelessness, hopelessness,
Leading foolishly, I myself can confess, yes I confess,
If we can grasp, squeeze with all our might, fight, we will find,
No monster, no shadow, no fear, only our mind, only mind.
By Jim Kirk-Wiggins ©
Dec 24, 2019
Dec 24, 2019 at 10:11 PM UTC
Very few princesses grow to become queens
"Theres something about you."
That's what my father always told me.
Not all queens are crowned
An innate monarchical spirit dwells within them
They can never step down
I've always seen myself as just piece of the earth
But as I've grown, I've learned to appreciate
All that I am for my true worth
I've come to see that life is self is filled with reflection
So many imperfect wonders
Yet we aim for the idea of utter perfection
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 2:30 PM UTC