"wingman" poems
Well after the wingman had left
I sang along to the seductive tune
that subtly fountained
A wanton void in my libido
Blindsided by the deceit of my own desires
I had succumbed
His passion was explicit
Mind blowing
Abandoned and exposed
I have fallen for a one night stand
And flailed upon quick sulking sand
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 1:10 PM UTC
You smile like a wolf about to ****
Your cruel, sharpened fangs barred in spite.
Your voice was gold, your white cuspids alight.
You smile at your prey; we deer stand still.
I know the smile shall end where it will.
I know it never reaches to your eyes
And I know, like one bitten once or twice,
That the wolf closes its eyes to ****
The wolf leans in too close, panic sets in
Stumbling through apologetic speech in
An effort to get somewhere else, again...
The deer springs into action, can't win
For wolves hunt in packs, the wingman swoops in
Now trapped by foes unbeatable, I'm slain.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
Dont hate me cuz I am beautiful
Looking Hijabi-licious for Allah, devoutly dutiful
Shaking your head at me cuz I cover
Wouldn’t take you nor your wingman as a lover
Glaring at me crazily cuz I’m veiled
An ocean of chastity you’ve never sailed
And you’re all alarmed cuz I’m devout
I’m hijab-tastic! Not even a single toe is out!
You can quit cat-calling me too; Cuz I’m chaste
Aint’ no welcome sign wrapped ‘round this waist
Tryna peer pressure me cuz I’m concealed
And ain’t out here tryna cop a feel
Pontificating that I’m oppressed cuz I’m different
“miss Muhammed is much too modest, we like ‘em ignorant”
And you’re kinda curious cuz u cant cuddle this Jelly
Joker, Lord knows ur stupid tail ain’t ready
So don’t hate cuz you, your boy, and your girl cant touch this
I’m a female manifestation of feminine justice
*********************************************
And girl, now you’re just jealous cuz you think he likes it
Said “wonder what her hair’s like when she unties it?”
Yeah She’s hoping to high heaven that I’m hot in my Hijab
So she can get me to join her in flashing flabby flabs of abs
Don’t be mean to me cuz real men find me appealing
Kindly consider concealing all the cleavage you’ve been revealing
You’re surprised because our boss recognized my mind?
Could it be because he isn’t busy admiring my behind?
I heard there was insane party where the office nicknamed you Lil “Miss loose & cray cray”
Oh, Dang. Anyway, they nicknamed me Lil Miss gotta go pray pray
You out here hating cuz my beauty is discreet
But if I was half naked, girl you know you couldn’t compete
So later for you, your lewd dude, and your half **** crew!
It’s not your pleasure that I seek
Allah, the Beautiful Fashioner, formed this physique
Verily Allah made everything valuable a challenge to achieve
Pearls, diamonds, gold, heaven, and— yes!— even ME
He, Almighty, offered me a trade treaty,
His commands for my Destiny
So I traded in ****** for decency
I traded in popularity for modesty
And I’m trading in your knuckle-headed opinion
For His highest heavenly dominion
Hijab-ulous 4 life!
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 2:34 AM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
when she played wingman for her friend at a party
after her friend had dumped a kid of innocent naivety (first love! first love!)
I asked her if she would ever have *** with someone
immediately after our breaking up
and she said,
"no, I have more respect for you then that.
it'd be at least a couple weeks."
and now look at us.
the nail in the coffin
was his ******** inside your moist *****
I rejected a girl last night
because all I could think of
was you.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
Never Have I Ever (Slam Poem)
5/27/2014
Having a best friend makes you think of weird things.
Stuff like:
Getting slapped in the face with a fish is more about smell than texture.
13 nights in a row drinking isn't so bad if you save cash not using mixers.
A stranger hitting on you is a storyline for tomorrow's lunch.
Redecorating my room is just for you, nobody else will see it.
You asked me to go shop with you, are you saying I need new clothes?
Crushing Ritalin in a bathroom, because we stayed up 'til 6am before work.
Pooping is like extra time in the day set aside to call you on the phone.
Why do we play Never Have I Ever when we already know the ever's?
People think we constantly say inside jokes, but we're just telepathic.
I get into shape before you visit town, because you're my best wingman.
If we ever stop being friends, I really hope you don't blackmail me.
Can I designate you to speak at my wedding, babyshower, and funeral?
... or is it too soon to do that?
Losing friends can make you think of weird things, I imagine.
Stuff like:
1. I should stop ordering carne asada fries - I can't finish a whole portion.
2. I keep my curtains closed - I know your car won't randomly be outside.
3. Having lunch alone ***** - I shared a crazy story with the cashier today.
4. I take my poops with the stereo on now - I never could go in silence.
5. My voicemail inbox is full - I can't delete any when your voice pops up.
6. Maybe I should call you.
7. I need to talk to you.
8. I wish I could call you.
9. If only you'd come visit town.
10. Maybe I should go visit the cemetery.
11. I have a new least favorite Never Have I Ever.
12. Never Have I Ever had a best friend die.
And I hope I never ever will put that finger down.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
I have walked blindly
Far too long
Wishing for the impossible,
The undeserved
I was a lone bird
Flying through endless clouds
Oblivious to my surroundings,
My blessings
I never saw you,
My wingman
Pulling me to safety, familiarity
Until I was too tired to fly on
And you caught me in time,
Mending my heart with your
Tenderness
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 9:34 PM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 9:08 PM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 12:10 PM UTC
This is something I wrote to be read at my Cousin Rene's funeral.
Oh My! I'm zooming down the Spanish coast... dipping my toes in the Med.
But you might find me on a Cornish Campsite drinking Pina Coladas instead.
Or it could be me, arm-in arm with good pals in pre-war summers... painting Withernsea red!
To all of those who saw me through the darker days I am thankful that you helped & guided...
Oh My! ...But I'm better now... I'm free... it's been a trying time, but once again... I can be me!
And there's something else I've just realised. Do you know what? I can see!
The last few years haven't been kind to me. Apparently I hadn't been making much sense.
I knew inside what I wanted to say... being with me must have made people nervous... tense.
But now the pressure's lifted, for loved ones and for me.
I was ready - went on too long. Now I'm on the 'other side'.
From now you’ll hear me on the wind in the trees and my whispers, in the surf and the tide.
I'm pain free, light and frothy again, teetering on heels... I’m a dizzy apricot blonde... No need for me to hide...
I might even drop in on you as I'm told you can... to say a quick thanks for all who helped - or tried...
Oh My!... and yes....people to thank? It's like an Oscar speech...
there's a list....but amongst all one stands out... shines like a star...
My Chef... my Chauffeur... my Ears.... my Eyes... my Angel... my Wingman... My Ken!
By my side through bad times, the good times and all those difficult bits... Not the now - but the then...
My Multi-tasker, My Carer...My Rock... My 'Rock & Roller'...
I remember we used to jive way back when...
And as the old song goes, I'm sure ... We’ll meet again!
Oh My!
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 8:57 AM UTC
Despair and grief are buddies,
always hanging out together.
Grief is despair's wingman.
Together they always score.
Grief sets despair up.
Despair closes the deal.
Best best friends forever
at the club of how we feel.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 4:55 AM UTC
i refuse to play by your rules.
i fold into myself as you
attempt to dictate my Mind.
your words fall
like bricks
upon the surface of my Heart.
you push and you press
and all I want to do is run.
do you not see?
can you not tell?
i am not a piece
of clay
for you to impress upon.
you cannot mold my beliefs.
you cannot form my values.
your wrong is not my wrong.
your right is not my right. and
Salvation
is not yours to call.
you gave birth to me but
you didn’t give me Life.
you are not
entitled
to my Soul.
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
She's my best friend
My worst enemy too
To my mind she does tend
Teaching me every day, things anew
She feeds my mind
with thoughts that shock, but also uplift
A better wingman, I cannot find
To me, she's such a gift
She is the one who shows me love
And joy in the littlest of things
The reason my heart pursues the purity of a dove
Led by her, my soul sings
I could not live without her
She'd cease to exist, without me
The girl in the mirror
She is me, I am she
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 3:51 PM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
.
Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose
Heart, now in a tail spin,
Nostrils whine in the fall.
No jury just but a sup of the faded
Heart by one raging one.
The wilted wings are stirring
To the last as the pointed
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 6:56 PM UTC
I hope she gets there,
Wherever she's going,
However far; however high,
Always off running; I know she'll fly,
Can no longer be her wingman,
I've got to land and nurse this tan,
Burning I was so close to the sun,
Might as well have had a gun
To my head ready to blow
Away my brain red in the snow,
I didn't want to see the truth,
Even as she pulled each tooth
Told me it was nothing
And I believed everything
Even as I questioned it all
So this house of cards will fall,
Because I was delusional and willing
To follow her thinking it a good feeling;
But who am I to love or need;
I've never wanted, never paid heed
To any pretty face around me
All failing to be anything I should see
Instead just going with my flow
And her splendor? Just mop n glow
Blinding yes; but not glue
Therefore one IS better than two,
This road has diverged; split and ended;
While it lasted; knowing her was splendid...
© okpoet
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 12:43 AM UTC
Inevitable
Situations that is unavoidable.
A little nod to Charles Bernstein
A college without students
Facebook without members
*** without a partner
A man without woman
A keyboard without the keys
A bath without soap
Donald Trump without passion
A twitter account without his followers
A night without rest
A day without snapchat
A bank without money
A soap opera without a plot
A Rally against poverty
A poem without rhyme
A nurse without the doctor
A train without the tracks
A death without weeping
A horse without its carriage
A car without its wheel
A wingman without his buddy
A lotto ticket without a dream
A day without a crime
A lady without her *****
A politician without ambition
A bar without alcohol
A patient without insurance
A day without rain
A memory without recollection
Childbirth without fear
A judge without the jury
A school without teachers
A nightmare without vision
A bed without headboard
Sesame Street without bid bird
Football without violence
A seamstress without training
A story without a dialogue
A baby without its mother
An election without voters
A couple without children
Inevitable
~~~~
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 8:34 AM UTC
Will loving him repair his broken heart?
Will kind words heal wounds inflicted?
Will patience show him he is worth waiting for?
Will forgiveness show him
That he can look forward now, and not back?
Can X's and O's fill
the crevices and canyons of his soul?
He cannot find liquor strong enough,
nor painkillers numbing enough,
no cut deep enough,
or risky behaviours risky enough to mask his pain
He says "it happens"
she shrugs as he tells you
the pieces of his puzzle he'd rather forget
Never sheds a tear,
but you can see him shake when he has to
"be a man" at 16
six schools, four years, no one he can count on
"I'm the one he comes to" she says
"When his mind is not with him,
when he drink or the drug sweeps his thoughts away
like a forceful wind,
his subconscious longs for me"
He calls her late into the night,
his voice a mumble
and his words nonsense
She speaks to him softly, comfortingly,
until she can hear his gentle snoring.
Then she cries herself to sleep,
because she's not sure if he'll ever be better
or if he'll ever say " I love you"
without alcohol as his wingman
Or be able to make it through the day without
a sip
a puff
a cut
And she can't help but wonder: is loving him enough?
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
I’ve said it before
I’ll say it here again
I wear a bug spray
That only works
On butterflies
I want to be a flower
But all I get is bees
I get stung
And I back away
I am approached
By cockroaches
Everyday
Every Year
Trying to gain from me
I attract mosquitos
Bloodsucking parasites
I have these people
Who want me
To do what they want
Then they leave
My lifeblood
My friendship
Gone forever
With my time
I want to swat
Those mosquitos
And crush them
Before they can leave
Someday I will
Get rid of this spray
At least that’s
What all my friends say
But I don’t know
The spray is permanent
Maybe I’m cursed
Or maybe I just need
A bath
In the water of friendship
And to fly with
My dragonfly
My wingman
And maybe
My friend
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 10:27 AM UTC
So here we are another Friday night amd the routine will probably play out the same way it always has ..
I find myself lazing on the couch staring at some 90's television show waiting for my wingman to arrive..
I always get aggravated around this time , he is always late, but in the back of my mind , I know that he is in the red rocket hurtling toward Uitenhage , dodging buck and tortoises with Addo in his rear view mirror..
The minutes tick by slowly as I wait in anticipation for his arrival , I am sure I will start pacing soon amd stealing peeks out the window at every sound in hopes it is him..
It's Friday night amd ***** going to get real , honestly it's the way we always thought it would but living in a small industrial town like Uitenhage doing anything felt like a huge party at the best of times
Finally I hear the sound of car making an abrupt halt and park under the tree , just infront of my folks home.
Car door swings open and out climbs the dude i been waiting for .. Clad in the usual garb, flannel shirt , blue jeans and the complimentary steel capped boots, unkpet shoulder length hair and stubble that would make the hairiest bear in the forest jealous..
"Hey G" he pronounces " sorry I am late man, but had to catch up on some X-Files, before hitting the street"...
**** Dude you always late" is the best I could come up with . "Let's rock n roll man , I wanna get outta this joint and light up the night".. So after our front yard banter we both Hopped into the Red Rocket and headed off down the road still not entirely sure where we were off too but the night was still young and we had alot to get through
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 3:35 AM UTC
I drunkenly wingman my dreams to my realities.
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 7:58 PM UTC