"vulgarly" poems
Our earth is turning from green to gray,
Just because it can't say,
"Stop vulgarly harming me
Or you will soon see
Barren wastelands and dried seas."
Nature's beauty is fast eroding,
'Cause we are still enjoying.
Wise humans, don't you see,
We'll soon be left without a tree.
Be a little eco-friendly,
And treat nature more gently.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 10:11 PM UTC
spinning colours.
flashing lights.
pounding music.
rooms too bright.
tucked away amidst the dawn,
he took a drag on Mary Jane,
coating her in liquor rain,
as he thought of thought of lustful times forgone.
he sat the pill right on his tongue,
and watched it melt away.
he closed his eyes and swallowed vulgarly,
for there was no time to be a saint this day.
he hid within an acid storm.
and his promises were holy,
when he watched the load drip down slowly.
for the psychedelic pleasure held him warm.
Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC
In a lit parlor you recite pain
Anecdote
She went missing, babe split in the night
I’m placid and have mastered jealousy
this time,
I know a friend best when I can face them leg splayed.
But that old ghost howls,
Old ghost
Old shame
Old photos alone.
I had a unibrow in one and my shirt was too big
but I thought it was stylish
And I thought I could be a model.
Whatever happened to that photo?
Where do old memories go when you toss them out
with the trash?
I always thought the garbage man must have a
fat photo album.
I guess I should be more careful
I guess I should learn to let go
I’m walking with my head held high
My hair twin serpents on my breast
And I stumble over a meaty stump-
It’s alive with larva and its eyes are ripe
And its tongue hangs out of its maw vulgarly
It laps at my ankle
“Remember me? Remember me?”
CAN’T YOU STAY DEAD
I hear myself shouting from somewhere totally vulnerable and
Why did I ever let you touch me?
Thanks so much-
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
there is much to remind yourself
of other's dazed concepts
like coming to terms
with your own madness;
The Smiths
and this cigarette
reading Life Alone
by R. de Ungria smashing
my head blood sprawling
across the page
blasting in my ear a fecund dark.
what am i to do
with a hand,
the spindrift by the sea
blowing against the windows,
with a thigh,
this palpable quietude
all mornings arrive
with a hatful of shadows
vulgarly obtrusive
with the night,
a den of thieves.
Caligula rearing the ******
to Nero, and I to myself
in front of the mirror
still
clawed by the same
beast maimed
behind the bush.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 9:55 AM UTC
Do you see me first thing in the morning
when you wake up and your eyelids
are heavy with sleep?
Do you taste me in your coffee
when you try to chase away
your dreams?
Do I itch in your palms,
in your arms,
on your lips?
Do you feel that I'm
absent when you go back
to sleep?
When you feel like crying,
do you feel the ghost
of my clumsy embraces
and the ephemeral feeling
of my cheek to your cheek
and my lips on your lips?
Do you turn around mid-movie,
a lame joke on your lips,
and realise I'm not there
to hear it?
Do you feel the emptiness
where I used to sit on your
knees?
Do you miss the scent of me
and the taste of perfume
when you bite my neck?
Do you see me taking your clothes
off when you put them on
in the morning?
Am I still present
in your dreams?
Do you miss my rants
about freedom and equality
and solecisms and hatred
and depression?
Do you miss taking care of me?
Can you see me wrapped around
you when you shower
and the steam hides the places
where I used to be?
Do I vulgarly and rudely
interrupt your dreams
and haunt your thoughts
and ache inside when you breathe?
I hope you do.
I hope I am.
I hope you regret
that you left.
I hope you wish
you had stayed.
I hope I've become
your epitome of a
long-lost dream.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
She waited for him. She always waited for him.
Quarter past eight. Tap tap tap.
Her gold embellished sneakers repeatedly hit the floor.
******* down her iced coffee, pretending to read the paper,
her anticipation palpable.
Tick tock tock tock.
The clock seemed vulgarly obtrusive. Where was he?
Tap tap tap. Tock tock tock.
Sliding her paint-stained fingers over the paper.
urgent socialite.
rescued earnest
words jumped off the page incoherently floating across her gaze.
The door opened and there he was. Pinstripes.
Perfect teeth. Too perfect.
Triple Americano to go. Fifty cent tip. Smile.
Today had to be different. She decided in that moment.
She would follow him this time. She had to know.
Her eyes traveled with him through the glass for a moment
and then she was out the door.
Around the corner she could see his trail of dense smoke--and
then she walked through it--inhaling it
as if it was his gift to her.
On tenth street he stopped for gum. On Robertson Ave he picked a single flower.
He rubbed his left shoulder as if he was in a great deal of pain.
She would have taken it all from him.
He had finished the coffee by now, setting it atop
the concrete ashtray, shifting it back and forth
in the sand.
The sun was setting. Purple grey pierced
by yellows and orange. She wanted to know more.
But she also knew she couldn't. It was too perfect--
his silhouette. The smell in the air, city smell.
The kind of smell that tells a putrid truth.
The biting contrast was--
art, she thought. And just like that she stopped
and watched. Watched him fade
further and further into the blackness.
Each step he took away
from her, she cringed.
She wondered if she would ever be set free.
What was his life like? Really like?
Did he think of her?
Did he attempt to conjure up what she
looked like now?
Did he want to know if she still
had his eyes? And
perfect teeth?
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 5:51 PM UTC
Impotent wedged flaws
Wrathful and miserable
As you drip pungency to feel secure
The blood slices are passed out for the mourners
Your vulgarly suspended in the air
All your misdeeds that you refused to see
Your secrets didn't shrink or disappear
I want to assassinate your cartilage one peel at a time
The deceptions you entrenched me in are bleak,fatal and weak
Your just a obscurity that nobody needs
Paralyzed into the horizon line
Close to the pale sky
Although no matter how hard you try
You'll never get there
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
Psst
Hey you
With the skepticism shirt
Pen and pad
Sticking vulgarly out of your pocket
I'm you
You're me
Look at you
With your baggage and your quizzical expression
Turning over stones
Have you gotten through all of them yet?
Close-up of the eye
It's clouded and blankly staring back from the mirror and
...Seems the windows to the soul
need a cleaning, a polishing...
Or perhaps the blinds are drawn?
The void yawns and opens wide its maw
Look at you
Playing with your positions
But even your philosophy isn't really free
You pay a fee
for your philosophy
So maybe
Just be open
And love?
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
Heard you’ve enticed fortune
All I see is that you’re much too
Engrossed on where to go now
Revelry magnetizing night into day
from your soul, telling me only a queen
could be enthralled by theses things
going absurdly like already history, croon it
going lightening like my record collection, blessed
Hiway right into daylight, wander bold to a million’d direction
Coolness leaning on a bookshelf, precious dawn lingering all around
Everybody awes to you, my ridiculous, strangely pure, strangely pure
The same gilded sun of western dreams
It shines so copper and lone for kinds as us.
Lord grant me ancient desires was on your mind.
How’d I know, well in how you live in bliss
Easily dismiss, with looking up wondering eyes
Halls here are devoted to paradise with richly intricate walls
Much like you, said it’s a journey if you’re aware
Be sagacious, take me real far, match box says welcome to LA
Queen of the roadhouse, windows inviting wild wind
Getting ahead of the dawn, we’ve long since started.
Heard you’ve always liked those
With eyes gleaming wild
Man, they say you’re outrageous
Yeah, beautiful, mysterious – reveling finds you
It’s free and lush music, my direction,
Don’t fear welcome to deathlessness
going absurdly like already history, croon it
going lightening like my record collection, blessed
Hiway into evening, writing verse as if you breathed it
Slickness on a sleek car, precious desert lingering around
Everybody loves you, vulgarly more, strangely pure, strangely pure
The lovely joys from the beginning of time
Sweet song of the blues when sung so soothes
Lord grant me endless endeavors was on your mind
Setting your sleep aside, driving in neon haze, closed eyes
Then you say, get up sunny wondering eyelashes
Glittering like a lagoon, isn’t it – jump in too!
Are you mad, like a wild cobra, pretty but I know you’ve power
I mean, they see you laughing, striking, phrases of genius
Adored with mystery like divine sudden messages
But loving the fun, dreaming of flying near the sun, arrows sent first
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 6:52 PM UTC
Two men were talking to God you might even say they were praying both askeded for the same gift; vulgarly known as filth lucre-money. Gods told them that they each could have their prayer answered but they would have to decide whether they would put their faith in luck or merit. The First said I am a democratic man I hardly can bear to to think I am better than any other so my choice is luck. The second said well it hardly seems right that an undeserving man should be disproportionately rewarded,no that is not at all just. I will put my faith in merit. The gift was given to each and each retained his own conceits but when the wind from God blew and nothing remained of either of their fortunes All is Vanity- Nevertheless for Love' sake I shall fear the Lord who gives me peace.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 12:23 PM UTC
tonight i feel numb
I feel shocked slighted hurt downcast
by how small and ****** and lonely and ugly and evil
people can be
how deceptive and vulgarly so
they do things for the sake of appearances
when they know
and those who know them, know
that all of this is an act
that it means nothing
how smally they choose to sepd their life
and oh how lonely
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 4:41 AM UTC
.
Where we share poems
Written to an anonymous YOU - thing
with whom we all invent a failed pseudo - love relationship
With
//
& in the commonality
Of this deceit
We feel absurdly safe
&
Vulgarly free
.
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 2:42 AM UTC