"warrants" poems
Everytime I think there's nothing left it's
Only because there is so much left there's mountains of
Me left and
That thought scares me
I don't want to spend any more time like this
I wish you could read minds.
Not so that you could find out how much I
Wonder if this relationship is worth it but so
You could do more things right you could
Not ruin the moments before *** you could
Know when no means yes
(know that I am pig-headed and proud as I cry)
You could know when to hold me and not say anything
When to just be there and not scold or argue bad opinions
(know that I am pig-headed and proud as you cry)
(Don't tell me that my feminist is showing)
(I am not ashamed of that)
Something that warrants shame is me in bed
No strength to sit up
Crying because you didn't think it was a good idea to Skype me
(you;re upset maybe you should just rest)
And I'm so alone
And I'm scared of dying of cancer as I fantasize about
Offing myself with sleeping pills
(my suicide note would be like a coming-out-of-the-closet note)
(with less determination and more apologies)
I am so tired
My bones are fragile
My tears are delicious
My feet are cold.
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 3:03 AM UTC
Sometimes I get the urge to hug someone,
Really tight,
Not in a romantic way,
Just to feel someone caring for me as I do them,
Their arms like iron bars,
But as I said,
Not in a romantic way,
A way to prove that hugs are awesome,
And completely acceptable to hug for no reason,
Even if it's longer than expected,
Not in a romantic way,
Because I love you, friend,
More than the term friend warrants.
You're my sister.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 5:58 PM UTC
You open to me
a little,
then grow afraid
and close again,
a small boy
fearing to be hurt,
a toe stubbed
in the dark,
a finger cut
on paper.
I think I am free
of fears,
enraptured, abandoned
to the call
of the Bacchae,
my own siren,
tied to my own
mast,
both Circe
and her swine.
But I too
am afraid:
I know where
life leads.
The impulse
to join,
to confess all,
is followed
by the impulse
to renounce,
and love--
imperishable love--
must die,
in order
to be reborn.
We come
to each other
tentatively,
veterans of other
wars,
divorce warrants
in our hands
which we would beat
into blossoms.
But blossoms
will not withstand
our beatings.
We come
to each other
with hope
in our hands--
the very thing
Pandora kept
in her casket
when all the ills
and woes of the world
escaped.
4.8k
i notice how deeply
you pull a drag
on that cigarette
down
to
the depths
of your lungs
as if you're attempting to revive
every hope and dream
exhaling
to set them free
only to dissipate
in a cloud that warrants glares and distancing footsteps
i notice your eyes lift
up to the sky
darling-
don't expect a sign from heaven
when Marlboro
is your guardian angel
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC
1375
Death warrants are supposed to be
An enginery of equity
A merciful mistake
A pencil in an Idol’s Hand
A Devotee has oft consigned
To Crucifix or Block
3.3k
Oakes-photo, hypocrisy and flagrant mirky plateau. Brimming celestial warrants overcrowding public housing systems. North-South lights, sell costly iPhone Apps; and then there are Social Societies of non-verbal delight. Password protected non-profitable and over-costly educations of no reward or biblical synonyms. Catastrophizing hash-tag dot.com. Weary party going poster children with glowing anemone guts, fruity looped cantlings, ravenous scattered supper clubbed coughing up ******* on their strange and central affairs unit. Overcome the candisation and sugary affairs of any of the ***** and pops that erstwhile matter less and less. We are speaking of nomenclatures that don't arise. Promises and by which confession aloof romanticizes every Tom dicking Mary that carries the theory of sustainable energy, prussian blue, and irregular browsing.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:46 AM UTC
You think
presents are promises
words are warrants
kisses are contracts -
but I give gifts
to conquer,
hold you in my debt,
and tell knots
twists of reality
that wouldn't hold up, Your Honor.
Can't you see how I crave loopholes,
how I search for them
in the arch of your lip
and the contours of your tongue?
May 11, 2012
May 11, 2012 at 7:53 PM UTC
Past attraction that warrants smiles
What was it that showed we care
Still in contact with flirty eyes
Wishing for a day to remember
Distance complicates the desire meaning
But love usually finds a way to settle
Dreams we shared now living alone
The greatest love song never heard
Nov 20, 2009
Nov 20, 2009 at 8:40 PM UTC
Adjectives continue
their downward spiral,
with adverbs likely to follow.
Wisdom, grace, and beauty
can be had three for a dollar,
as they head for a recession.
*Diaphanous, filigree,
pearlescent*, and love
are now available
at wholesale prices.
Verbs are still blue-chip investments,
but not many are willing to sell.
The image market is still strong,
but only for those rated AA or higher.
Beware of cheap imitations
sold by the side of the road.
Only the most conservative
consider rhyme a good option,
but its success in certain circles
warrants a brief mention.
The ongoing search for fresh
metaphor has caused concern
among environmental activists,
who warn that both the moon and the sea
have measurably diminished
since the dawn of the Romantic era.
Latter-day prosodists are having to settle
for menial positions in poultry plants,
where an aptitude for repetitive rhythms
is considered a valuable trait.
The outlook for the future remains uncertain,
and troubled times may lie ahead.
Supply will continue to outpace demand,
and the best of the lot will remain unread.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?
Have you forgotten the Bill of Rights?
The 'inalienable' rights we all have?
Do they even ******* matter?
Do they even ******* exist?
I guess not.
What the **** are they doing
pressing this CISPA ********
Unlawful search and seizure of digital information
and they don't even care for warrants.
Under the guise of National Security
you'd have us all put in Camps or killed
just like we did to the Japanese all those years ago
but we've moved past that... right? Right?
I guess not.
We just keep it all more secretive now:
The people didn't stand for SOPA
and surely not for the NDAA
so what the **** gives you the idea
CISPA will fly, anyway?
Maybe if no one heard about it, it would work...
Maybe that's what you were counting on.
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
along with your constituents.
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
and your endorsements.
The Fourth Amendment requires due process
precluding unjust search and seizure;
but where the **** is due process or justice
in this proposed search at leisure?
You pass new legislation that augments old laws,
so much that they don't even need probable cause,
but not new rights nor protections for the citizenry,
not surprising given your abhorrent deontology:
You'd sooner send drones than diplomats.
You'd sooner stage attacks than be peaceful.
You'd sooner bail out banks than your citizens.
You'd sooner pass a law than change your ******* underwear.
What the **** gives you an inkling of the notion
that a beloved sociopath Politician
deserves your ******* devotion
if they pull this sort of ethical rescission?
Excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
who the **** are you to say
what information the Government gets
at the detriment of mankind anyway?
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
along with your constituents.
**** you, Mr. Politician Man
and your endorsements.
**** me, Mr. Politician Man,
like you already do behind closed doors.
**** me, Mr. Politician Man
for ever trusting this accursed system.
Well, who the **** are you
trusted making legislation,
you can't even overcome
******* monetary gravitation.
Well, excuse me, Mr. Politician Man,
you want the People to become transparent?
Well **** you then, Mr. Politician Man
we want transparency of Government:
I'm sick of not knowing where Tax dollars go,
I'm sick of knowing over a quarter goes to the Military
which is funny in a deeply ****** up way
because I know I may help pay for
the drone that might fly overhead and see me and my friends as insurgents
and launch an IR missile to blow us to bits,
or the bullet that may be sent through my brain
as a distant if more probable than ever result
of your ******* legislation:
And so I say:
**** you, Mr. Politician Man,
along with your constituents
for making this a feasibility;
you're supposed to serve the people
but you'd rather put the U.S. in a state of futility.
So,
on behalf of all those you alienate each day,
I wish to extend to you a humble and heartfelt
Go **** yourself.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
I sleep in my cardboard cottage
That is my current job.
I keep it neat and clean as I can
I am not a slob.
I have my own place staked out
Everyone knows it’s mine.
It keeps the wind off as I doze.
It isn’t perfect but it’s fine.
Part of my job these days is easy;
I set out a cup and sing.
It doesn’t make me a million
But it is something.
When the weather warrants it
I sleep in the park
In the bright warm sunshine;
Stay awake in the dark.
It seems the citizens and cops
All leave me alone
Even though they still talk to me
With condescending tone,
Tsking at my laziness in general
Give the charity buck
Or maybe a quarter when they see
Since I’m down on my luck.
There’s this guy Hay Soose
But he spells it Jesus.
He could spell it that way
If he so pleases
But that don’t keep him dry
Whenever it rains
And it doesn’t stave most of the
Deep arthritic pains
From sleeping under cardboard
As his only roof.
Watch him shiver in winter if
You want some proof.
People have gotten to know me
As I’m here every day.
Some of the even come by with
Nice words to say.
And, I am used to the noise here;
The horns and the noise
Of the workaday world of these folks;
These grownup girls and boys.
Some tell me to go find some work,
I don’t get mad and shout.
I understand they have some hostilities
They have yet to work out.
Some of my neighbors here in cardboard
Dwell here because they
Can’t seem to work life out for themselves
In any other way.
People fire them from any employment
Because they act weird.
Some refuse to bathe or maybe it is
They refuse to cut their beard.
As for me I have had enough of it all;
The rattle and the hum.
I know society has a lot to offer but
I already had some.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 2:51 PM UTC
Memories of past magnificence
A pall now hangs over her
Echoes of screams in the west
Decomposed disillusion
Inhumanity
Insecurity
Split personality
Search warrants for the haves
Kicked in doors for the have nots
Mr. Officer……Mi innocent
The muzzle of your gun has me reticent
From slavery our ancestors did run
In the streets the blood of my countrymen run
When will di trouble dun
She has been battered and scarred
Her name feathered and tarred
While the gleam in her eyes is diminished
She is by no means finished
Still the heartbeat of a nation
Vibrant, trendsetting, schizophrenic
Sometimes there is panic in this state of chronic
Some more equity is required in my city
The financial capital
What about human capital?
Some deemed worthless
Existing in communities of sacrificial lambs.
Others are sacred cows…..Wolves in sheepskin
Who pollute the air with noxious verbiage
White collar facades hide evil intent.
She will rise again.
If we have the will and the way
My city……KINGSTON!!!!!
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 2:34 PM UTC
Sixty years ago, you could have loved me
- a sailor, - a trophy wife, - an 'okay, fiancé' in a sarcastic legacy
A turn of the century turns you around and turns you into a (skate! jam! live in a van!) type of person that I am vastly uninterested in but just tryin' to be sad about somethin'
- I am sad about your big feet, your cuffed trousers, all the places I didn't want to run into you at and not letting that stop me from carting my coffin to Kansas City art museums
(Your love poems to me must be dried in caked-on mud from tires pulling away)
Did you know you're an accident?
- The whole crowd laughs, someone get me a microphone!
(Someone! Get me anything your mouth has touched!)
- I'll bury a vial of your organic germs in my hometown backyard to find later, when you're dead as your dangling doorknobs and disguised by giggling gargoyles (you are welcome, by the way)
Ultimate hide 'n' seek warrants a worthless existence and a holy trinity of the same name(s)
(The dog is under the bed)
(You are locked out on the back porch)
(I am fetal position in a parked car)
- Can we put this on the Christmas card?
Happy Twentieth, Darling! I Love You Very, Very, Very, Very Much.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
shamed for showing too much
shamed for not showing enough
over ****** warrants being called a ****
not ****** enough and I’m called a *****
so what am I supposed to do?
never leave the comfort of my judgement free home?
oh wait, that’s not true
mainstream media bashing the idea of individuality
sure they say they support it
but if they really did
would we, constantly, see the same features, plastered on magazines?
trends change quickly
and my body sure as heck can’t keep up
that’s okay though,
I was never one to conform to the societal standard
the thick thighs, “fat *** skinny waist, and big *******
that I’m supposed to have,
but am supposed to cover up?
I’m sorry but if I had been “blessed” with those physical attributes
I would not be so eager to cover them up
and is “blessed” even the right word to describe
what so many women have come to despise?
large chests that cause back pains,
the unwanted attention and ****** comments?
maybe they aren’t so blessed,
but are rather cursed
that in a society like ours
we are taught to hate ourselves no matter what
instead of embracing the unique beauty that we are gifted
rather than celebrate the intricate details of our souls
and the crazy two A.M. thoughts that run through our minds
the stunning stream of consciousness that separates us from the rest
but unfortunately,
we have assimilated into one
bland society,
where variety is shunned
and everyone is the same
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
human detritus deaf to empathy
misanthropes bound by apathy
just above the dotted line we
signed our own death warrants
guilty as charged
existential and intellectual suicide
we'd rather gouge out our eyes
bury our heads in the sand
than give a moment's pause to
consider our own arrogance
**** sapiens
we carved our legacy into the globe
and we will rest in the husk
of a massive unmarked grave
a solitary chunk of floating rock
adrift in outerspace
"the fate of every successful species
is to wipe itself out"
can we harness the courage to turn away
from our vapid lives before it's too late
can we unplug our minds from the machine
extricate ourselves and learn to breathe
with lungs instilled through millennia of
evolution before we suffocate in ennui
humanity is on life-support
it's tempting to pull the plug
let Mother Nature reclaim her earth
from an entitled race of
self-destructive fools
coddled from childbirth but
there is a nascent impulse that
echoes in every heartbeat
living within our blood
to regard one another with the new eyes
science has built each of us
no longer can we trust self-styled
leaders of the free world
the impetus rests within the crux
of self-acceptance
anarchy is the litmus test
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
Legislators of social stigmatization
hand out identity before child birth,
reluctantly judged by your pigmentation,
you're given a name
and a pew in a church,
assigned to a gender with implications,
while ATM balance determines your worth
Bugs will certainly inherit the Earth
Disguised as your neighborhood
privacy invaders,
cops kick in the door
at your mother's front porch,
enforcing law written by legislators
for a routine seizure and search
Police brutality couldn't mask the depravity
of their warrants nomenclature
Capitalist crusaders terrorize Americans,
but can't keep the bugs
from their Earth inheritance
Men will shroud their evil nature
Malicious intent hides below the glacier
Camouflaged vindictive behavior
is electing dictators across the equator
Truth serenaders lobby for
congressional persuaders
to pardon these murderous
capitalist crusaders,
fitting agendas with tailor made suits,
who infect Mother Earth deep in her roots
Antibiotics couldn't heal or stop this
infection these players gave her
Pray for fire and fury
to burn away worry
when bugs surely crawl from the dirt
to inherit what's left of our Mother Earth
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 6:30 AM UTC
Say anything but the words in your head.
Smile when he does.
Don’t take the flash in his eyes too personally,
(everything he finds beautiful warrants the cosmos from their depth)
Blush and be flattered.
Watch his lips, but don’t read them.
(The literature you find there will always be the stuff of fantasy)
He’ll laugh, low and warm,
and under it, you will flicker like candlelight,
but a wick only lasts so long.
If you fall,
you’ll fall from great heights.
His nimble fingers won’t make that
kind of catch.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
.
i wake before the others
betraying the family bed
conduct domestic procedure
(the sun has yet to rise and punish)
the rooms are illuminated with the city dim
projected from streetlight in
a dossing grain of orange
wiltered by the sheets
we use to cower our windows
in this near light i go to spread a morning meal
a tray of fruit, yogurt and breakfast biscuits
i bring it too our low living room table
but Abrupt !
there is a form occupying the table
i scout for a spot to place my wares
put the tray / direct contact / the floor
and make a closer examination
on the table
it is a soldier boy simple life spent out
this warrants artificial light
i pull the cord on the corner lamp
in a glimpse of eyes the bulb pops dead
i know i won't meet result this way
its a brain pattern going on i determine
and remove shrouding from a street view
orange wash lends to the olive uniform
both hands hitched
to his webbing in the middle of his chest
helmet discomforts his head turned to a side
eyes yelling a relaxed nothing
no surprise to his ****** features
boots that haven't even made mud yet
this is clean but for the blood reduction
a syrup for his presentation
no fooling and there is.. the gun
the child in me and the child in him want it
he makes seventeen at most
and it is now i feel
when i see the device
war oversees
makes international the weather
May 16, 2024
May 16, 2024 at 1:27 PM UTC
Today: A Paperclip
Continuously and seamlessly complementing and complying with myself
Bending solely to hold something foreign as whole
With a surety of security
And right angled refine
Unless the load is too much or too smooth or not right
And in leaning the lines some part
Or some whole
Sideways makes escape
From skewed hold
Shiny soundness
Will surely soften
And the Paperclip appeal will reveal
To be as paper thick as any
Continuous and seamless
Paperclip in a Paperclip ***
Maybe tomorrow warrants
The hopeful and overly capable Staple.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 7:03 AM UTC
it was hard not to notice
her suffocating stance
eliminating life
from breath
stark contrasts clashed
chemist stench rife
clawed nails fought
with burnt electric hair
face caked with
false promise
rude lips bled
in twisted shapes
mismatched words
shot giddily from
handgun mind
long since spent
guests' amused disdain
stilled at sharp madness
flashes of veined sclera
screamed woe
signatures etched on
death warrants
coffin lids
clamped shut
wild assertions
rank religious fervor
vomited about
a hushed room
charity's stretched
compassion quit
in rush to regain
a summer's peace
efforts to impress
stabbed coarsely
dense air strangled
rational thought
guilty images beset
tortured space
noxious noise
begging revolt
yet collective dagger
falls aside mute
lest honour
too is lost
as raucous gasps fail
to impress
with anything
less than
dreams
of a quiet book
easily wooed
by a silent stream
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
"It's an attack--an attack on our country,"
The president said. "It's a disgrace."
It's still amazing how he can say
The things he does and keep a straight face.
The Mueller probe's an attack on our country?
An attack on all we stand for? Say what?
Maybe if Trump had been honest and forthright
He wouldn't find himself in a rut.
What DO we stand for? Rule of law,
Search warrants, magistrates…
Where no one's above the law, not even
The president of the United States.
The president's idols--Putin, Duterte,
And Erdoğan--would never permit
Investigations into their own acts.
To strongmen it would NOT be legit.
To Trump a legal pursuit to find
Answers is a ruthless attack.
Yet Russia assaults our democratic
System, and Putin's a crackerjack!
Poor Trump just doesn't get it.
Whenever he talks, he more or less
Rubs salt in his very own wounds
And finds himself in a bigger mess.
-by Bob B (4-11-18)
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 7:33 PM UTC
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXg2WsNCrW4
The DHS is the new SS.
SIEG HEIL!
Wir dürfen nichts befragen.
We're allowed to question anything.
THE GOVERNMENT HAS ORDERED
FROM 450,000,000 TO 1,000,000,000 ROUNDS
OF HOLLOW POINT AMMUNITION;
ENOUGH FOR ONE BULLET FOR EACH OF US AND TWO FOR SOME OF US
TO ONE BULLET FOR EVERY 7 PEOPLE ON EARTH
RAPID MILITARIZATION
IS A THING TO BE WEARY OF;
**** THIS MARTIAL LAW
**** THIS NEW WORLD ORDER;
There's no reason to question Authority, right?
Anyone who pays Taxes
in the United States
helps to fund one of the most prevalent Terrorist organizations in the World
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
So sweet
It’s a lie
It’s sour, salty
And bitter
Like water
With bacon grease
Bubbling to the top
They expect her to swallow
With a smile on her face
The way she swallows
Her sadness
Letting it coat her intestines
The blockages
Embryonic emotions
In hibernation
As warrants
For soul arrest
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 8:25 AM UTC
The stifling darkness chokes my senses to the point at which I can't differentiate between the sounds of water dropping from branches and the moisture falling from the edge of my chin onto the crumpled leaves strewn around my feet.
Crickets and assorted bugs I couldn't dream of naming pierce the dark with their high-pitched keening, and the occasional large displacement of rainwater from above reminds me of my childhood fear of the dark.
These methodical observations cascading through my mind calm the frazzled maelstrom my emotions currently resemble.
The borrowed boots I threw on, before flinging the door open to make my escape into the dark alternate reality of the night, confine my feet in an unusual way; my toes slamming into the fronts as I walk downhill; the soles of my feet slide back and forth as I trip over the branches and stumps hidden from my eyes by the thick blindfold of night.
I crumple, much like the leaves at my feet, onto a slightly damp fallen tree and close my eyes; more from habit than to block out the non-existent light. The bark feels somewhat grimy under the hand I recline upon, but the chaos gripping my mind occupies my attention; therefore I have no brain capacity to decide if the slimy surface warrants a relocation on my part.
I direct my full attention inward and examine my uncharacteristically jumbled emotional cloud. Angry reds and blacks flash into exisitence, before extinguishing to reveal sickly yellow veins underneath before lighting again. As the time between the red and black explosions increases, a melancholy dark blue smog coats the inner recesses of my mind like a fuzzy wallpaper and rug combo. The cloud of emotion has dissipated, leaving only dark green wisps of calm in it's wake.
This writing seems to have calmed my inner turmoil; I accept the loss of a piece of me and mourn it's destruction. I'm left without the energy to pick up the artistic utensils I would use to recreate this piece sacrificed against my will.
Hopefully, I will regain the motivation in the morning. But for now, I shall make my way back through the slick stumps and crumpled leaves to my bed and pass the time till then in dreams.
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 11:18 PM UTC