"weenies" poems
little the life that is left unto us now!
wars a ****** in!
(COME SAVE US E E CUMMINGS!)
the massive death
the rags of poverty grief and despair that shall be
our only dominion in a matter of days or weeks or years
(at best)
oh ****
are here
after I finally have come to kinda like it here
amid the queer folks and the paparazzi
socialists and nazis!
but the bankers have mastered oink-piggery
and the politicians have turned us into
****** weenies seeking only false security!
and there is no life left here!
(WHERE ARE YOU E E CUMMINGS!?)
ah, gentle reader, be brave be kind and good still
be the subtlest sense of decency shining and displaying
a last bit of reverence for this sacred universal place
we are in
though painfully being murdered
let us rebel gracefully
and live freely
again
Jun 8, 2010
Jun 8, 2010 at 11:38 AM UTC
*the losers,
report me to
the bad poets society,
bad student loans , bad poems
bad boys and girls society
taste, head rearing, daring
elegance, shocking awe,
fk that looks it like be a poeming **** forming,
ah, the teenie weenies millies become white walking whiners
write a poem about the sky,
**never using the word blue black
or grey**
Then, use it to
tell me why the
Paris dead
matter
the most remarkable feature
of the sky is its endlessness,
no matter what the colour of the day be,
for what else can you point to
beside the sea,
that simply visible
has no boundaries?
I will tell you.
see my grieving rage
boundaryless,
for the Paris dead,
and there is no colour,
just one dead blanched black rose
placed upon my chest,
soiling my face,
a visible reminder that
forgetting is
endless, colourless,
rage and revenge
too*
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
My stand is portable, affordable and neat
Sits on the southwest corner of 42nd Street
Can't beat my delicious, nutritious, expandable frank
My dogs are divine! Now, take that to the bank!
One twenty-five for a dog loaded or bare
Mini-meals readied with caution and care
Merciful and kind, my dogs nourish the broke
Fuels children and seniors and cold 'n drunk folk
I've served sages and I've served nuts
My clients range from brilliant to putz
Usually I keep the screwballs away
But now and again I have a ****** no-good day
Like the time two thugs took off with my cart
They rammed it right into the Super Mart
Weenies went flying and relish SPLAT!
Stunned I saw my dogs were eaten by cats
Two weeks down, my new stand revamped and nice
Maybe those thugs wanted red beans and rice
But dogs are my passion and my life’s big scheme
So buy a hot dog and support someone's dream.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
i never would write until the night fell
you laugh at me from the light
and every smear of honesty
betrays me
and you stand a thousand stories tall
but i have to leave my shoes
in the door way
the stars arent your eyes any more
they are only the fire
the flame that scorches my rib cage
its as though i payed a mask maker
if everything was in its right place
my reflection wouldnt seemed so skewed
remember
a lemon is a fruit
with every car parked aside the avenue
all lanes free
you can run
lumber
in the turn lane
beneath the big sign
that changes colors
that blinds you with its fascism
with its charges against you
that youre given ninety to life for
***** and beanie weenies
a cats purr
pecans
the writings of a mystic
purrs
and the mask maker
and a sneeze
then love
to stretch out
to cuddle up
to fail at cartwheels
we cant loose
i hear you cheese over the phone
every single hormone
cresting and waining
here i am
the mind of the eye
or vica verse
if you cant
then i will
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
I have all these voices in my head. They're very annoying.
That was hurtful
Like I care? I assume you're an extension of my own consciousness or so it has been explained to me by several therap-
They were all weenies
Oh thanks I'll let them know that your impeccable taste has just lost them the race to become the most non weenie-like therapist.
You see? These voices and I are always at a confliction yet I have this strange addiction, I seem to have my head always congested with unhealthy thoughts.
My lungs ***** with what ifs.
What if you used your fists instead of words?
My veins clogged with hypothetical tragedies.
What would you do if your little sister died? How would you seek revenge on the world?
My nerves of my crusty darkened lips, fried with expectations of what I'm supposed to do or accomplish.
You HAVE to get that A, you HAVE to get accepted, you HAVE to get that job, you HAVE to be kind, humble, understanding, smart....
My brain synapses all firing off in a spectacular sense of chaos as they are overwhelmed with thoughts of motivation, yet they will get lost in the mayhem before they will get through to me.
Learn that song on th-make sure you email the importa-she's counting on you don-
My stomach feels funny as the butterflies are disturbed by relentless thoughts of desire.
*Why do work? Think of her. Diamond hips swayin' and **** marble-cut legs stalking towards you. Think of her instead.*
What about your heart?
It beats with an irregular beat, it's jumpy and nervous.
Awww why's that?
You know why, you're the one that makes my heart ache with the pain of the unknown.
Who, us? We're not doing anything.
Shut up. You want to know what it is? That bewildered beat, that trembling tempo, caused by one thing.
The future
The future.
What an uncertain prospect.
We'll get you there, champ.
I hate them.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC