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"warbucks" poems
In Memoriam What's missing is the eyeballs in each of us, but it doesn't matter because you've got the bucks, the bucks, the bucks. You let me touch them, ****** the green faces lick at their numbers and it lets you be my "Daddy!" "Daddy!" and though I fought all alone with molesters and crooks, I knew your money would save me, your courage, your "I've had considerable experience as a soldier... fighting to win millions for myself, it's true. But I did win," and me praying for "our men out there" just made it okay to be an orphan whose blood was no one's, whose curls were hung up on a wire machine and electrified, while you built and unbuilt intrigues called nations, and did in the bad ones, always, always, and always came at my perils, the black Christs of childhood, always came when my heart stood naked in the street and they threw apples at it or twelve-day-old-dead-fish. "Daddy!" "Daddy," we all won that war, when you sang me the money songs Annie, Annie you sang and I knew you drove a pure gold car and put diamonds in you coke for the crunchy sound, the adorable sound and the moon too was in your portfolio, as well as the ocean with its sleepy dead. And I was always brave, wasn't I? I never bled? I never saw a man expose himself. No. No. I never saw a drunkard in his blubber. I never let lightning go in one car and out the other. And all the men out there were never to come. Never, like a deluge, to swim over my ******* and lay their lamps in my insides. No. No. Just me and my "Daddy" and his tempestuous bucks rolling in them like corn flakes and only the bad ones died. But I died yesterday, "Daddy," I died, swallowing the Nazi-Jap animal and it won't get out it keeps knocking at my eyes, my big orphan eyes, kicking! Until eyeballs pop out and even my dog puts up his four feet and lets go of his military secret with his big red tongue flying up and down like yours should have as we board our velvet train.
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"Daddy" Warbucks
In Memoriam What's missing is the eyeballs in each of us, but it doesn't matter because you've got the bucks, the bucks, the bucks. You let me touch them, ****** the green faces lick at their numbers and it lets you be my "Daddy!" "Daddy!" and though I fought all alone with molesters and crooks, I knew your money would save me, your courage, your "I've had considerable experience as a soldier... fighting to win millions for myself, it's true. But I did win," and me praying for "our men out there" just made it okay to be an orphan whose blood was no one's, whose curls were hung up on a wire machine and electrified, while you built and unbuilt intrigues called nations, and did in the bad ones, always, always, and always came at my perils, the black Christs of childhood, always came when my heart stood naked in the street and they threw apples at it or twelve-day-old-dead-fish. "Daddy!" "Daddy," we all won that war, when you sang me the money songs Annie, Annie you sang and I knew you drove a pure gold car and put diamonds in you coke for the crunchy sound, the adorable sound and the moon too was in your portfolio, as well as the ocean with its sleepy dead. And I was always brave, wasn't I? I never bled? I never saw a man expose himself. No. No. I never saw a drunkard in his blubber. I never let lightning go in one car and out the other. And all the men out there were never to come. Never, like a deluge, to swim over my ******* and lay their lamps in my insides. No. No. Just me and my "Daddy" and his tempestuous bucks rolling in them like corn flakes and only the bad ones died. But I died yesterday, "Daddy," I died, swallowing the Nazi-Jap animal and it won't get out it keeps knocking at my eyes, my big orphan eyes, kicking! Until eyeballs pop out and even my dog puts up his four feet and lets go of his military secret with his big red tongue flying up and down like yours should have as we board our velvet train.
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55
I wonder, were we... Roman lovers? with laurel wreathes and toga covers? Or maybe we were cowboy robbers? Maybe we were outlawed 'shiners. I just know that I know you from somewhere. This isn't the first go-round for you and me. We were something before in some kind of capacity   Maybe we we're royalty. Maybe you were betrothed to me; maybe we fought, and maybe you ruled, and maybe my father gave me over to you. I'll bet you were older, still. I bet I still argued with you. I bet I still kissed you like I had always loved you. Maybe you were married Maybe I was, too. Maybe we were strangers, or secrets from others, Maybe I married you. Maybe we had sons. Each just as handsome and strong as the next one. Maybe I worked for you, with you, or against you. Maybe I cracked your shell, Maybe you made me fall, maybe we were the other's glue. and I bet we still looked Just like we do now. I bet your eyes were that syrupy blue suede goo And I bet I still wanted you. Needed you. Baited you. Waited and stayed with you. I bet I still strung your world on a string. And I bet in whatever lifetime it was, we had the very best of everything. I bet we were a team. I bet we still undid the other at the seams. I bet you woulda died for me, Robin Hood. I bet you were a knight with cool armor and a sword. Or maybe I took care of you, Maybe we met in a tent,   you in camo stained with blood, a white skirt to my knees. Maybe I saved you. Maybe you saved me. Maybe you're my Daddy Warbucks, I always did find him **** Maybe we were patriots and met in a tavern. maybe on the Titanic and you spoke German Maybe we were neighbors. Maybe you were my professor, Dr. Indiana Jones. Just as **** in a classroom as you'd be   scoping out a tomb. There's something you emit that draws me back to a moment that's blurry and distant but I know that I miss it. If a thousand years ago you ran your fingers through my hair. or two hundred and twenty since the last time our flame flared, we're burning hot as and been in business just the same as Hell's furnance. Unpredictable as Vesuvius I think by now my old soul can smell yours a mile away. I think your eyes spill your secrets like broken flood gates. I think I've seen every micro expression cross your face at one point in all of my foggy visions, and I breathe in the vapors of what we can't remember and I'm soggy in your arms. Who knows how many of my lifetimes you've already charmed. And still I want you. And need you. And bait you. Wait and stay with you. Behind closed doors we could fill a room with the ghosts from our histories. I can remember that the moment you kiss me. This alchemy has existed for centuries.
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Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 7:51 AM UTC
Old Alchemy
I wonder, were we... Roman lovers? with laurel wreathes and toga covers? Or maybe we were cowboy robbers? Maybe we were outlawed 'shiners. I just know that I know you from somewhere. This isn't the first go-round for you and me. We were something before in some kind of capacity   Maybe we we're royalty. Maybe you were betrothed to me; maybe we fought, and maybe you ruled, and maybe my father gave me over to you. I'll bet you were older, still. I bet I still argued with you. I bet I still kissed you like I had always loved you. Maybe you were married Maybe I was, too. Maybe we were strangers, or secrets from others, Maybe I married you. Maybe we had sons. Each just as handsome and strong as the next one. Maybe I worked for you, with you, or against you. Maybe I cracked your shell, Maybe you made me fall, maybe we were the other's glue. and I bet we still looked Just like we do now. I bet your eyes were that syrupy blue suede goo And I bet I still wanted you. Needed you. Baited you. Waited and stayed with you. I bet I still strung your world on a string. And I bet in whatever lifetime it was, we had the very best of everything. I bet we were a team. I bet we still undid the other at the seams. I bet you woulda died for me, Robin Hood. I bet you were a knight with cool armor and a sword. Or maybe I took care of you, Maybe we met in a tent,   you in camo stained with blood, a white skirt to my knees. Maybe I saved you. Maybe you saved me. Maybe you're my Daddy Warbucks, I always did find him **** Maybe we were patriots and met in a tavern. maybe on the Titanic and you spoke German Maybe we were neighbors. Maybe you were my professor, Dr. Indiana Jones. Just as **** in a classroom as you'd be   scoping out a tomb. There's something you emit that draws me back to a moment that's blurry and distant but I know that I miss it. If a thousand years ago you ran your fingers through my hair. or two hundred and twenty since the last time our flame flared, we're burning hot as and been in business just the same as Hell's furnance. Unpredictable as Vesuvius I think by now my old soul can smell yours a mile away. I think your eyes spill your secrets like broken flood gates. I think I've seen every micro expression cross your face at one point in all of my foggy visions, and I breathe in the vapors of what we can't remember and I'm soggy in your arms. Who knows how many of my lifetimes you've already charmed. And still I want you. And need you. And bait you. Wait and stay with you. Behind closed doors we could fill a room with the ghosts from our histories. I can remember that the moment you kiss me. This alchemy has existed for centuries.
Continue reading...
176
My big red nose... shoes three sizes big ....I calliope in amidst the din. with my chin high, to where the women wear Dior and Gems. The men are all ten feet tall and more. Yet. I fit in. I like these politicians, trip eloquently on my tongue, stumble headlong into ice carved pictures of my thing, I have red ears, wet eyes, say I did not mean it, when the media is around, just the same. I fit in. I go home with Madamme, treat her to tricks, while her Daddy Warbucks, goes out with strippers.
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Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC
I, magicician, and politician
#*Don’t it always seem to go That you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone They paved paradise and put up a parking lot*…                                       Joni Mitchell Fighting their wars in business suits Blowing up peasant villages Lying, While the Pentagon loots Our failing empire pillages. The wonder boys from Ivy Leagues Look good on paper, making war Their covert actions and intrigues Exhibit what they tax us for. Patriot boogey-man ** Chi Minh Was armed by US in forty-five; Then made the foe as we sent in Our troops. And some returned alive. The Dulles brothers, with their spooks Testing strategies, had a ball Dropping ****** on the ***** Earth turned into a shopping mall. And now, some puppet in Ukraine (a Chinese laundry for their cash), Requests more arms. So please explain Before Crimea burns to ash. That’s all. Their only long-term vision: Body-counts— first bomb, then Starbucks. Spectacles on television; Do not question Daddy Warbucks.
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Apr 12, 2023
Apr 12, 2023 at 2:34 PM UTC
Suits & Diplomatic Ties