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Bob B Feb 2017
Regarding the Trump administration...

Trump says his administration
Runs just like a "fine-tuned machine."
He's got to be kidding! This is the most
Dysfunctional one we've ever seen!
Yikes!

Regarding General Flynn…

Regarding Flynn's resignation,
Trump refuses to give up the fight.
He says that Flynn did nothing wrong;
"If anything, he did something right."
Yikes!

Regarding the Electoral College…

Trump insists that since Ronald Reagan,
He received the most votes.
Bush one, Bill Clinton, and Obama got more.
Who the heck is writing his notes?
Yikes!

Regarding the media…

Trump's still calling the questioning press
Dishonest, and he cannot understand
Why there's so much negativity.
He lives in a definite fantasy land!
Yikes!

Regarding TV…

Trump considers "Fox & Friends"
The most "honest morning show."
That is downright scary to hear.
Fatuity's reached a new plateau.
Yikes!

Regarding bigotry and respect…**

Trump says he's the least racist
Person that you'll ever see.
And last fall he said that no one
Respects women more than he!
Yikes!

- by Bob B (2-16-17)
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Here comes the sun little darling's
We all get burned
 Is it your turn
     "U-Turn"
Oh! Where I thou
"Green light Diner"
It's telling us to Go
    *       *       *
The Earth beauty faces
I will be your direct sunlight
In plain sight to the daylight
her blossom tree
All I ask come for me
Her face could eat
The divine flower laced

French brie
Tie a yellow ribbon on me
We have so much to see
Let it be sun-face Moms
apple pies
The Sun  "Watchtower"
Someone knocks you off
Your "Bill" on the Ice Queen

The Goddess rodeo waitress
She got you roped in between
The cigarette 1940 case hostess
             "Rose"
I suppose the sunflowers every booth
her smile sets in place

The stain-glass window Notre Dame
Rock and roll hall of fame
The earth kids rainbow chalk
Sun-fun treetops like a beanstalk
Napoleon Elementary Watson
New Jersey Diner capital admission
The Peking duck *** luck

European beauty hunter's menu
Any luck this will be awhile sip "Starbucks"

1-Antipasti cute Shiba Uni
2-Consomme Chicken soup
3-Sun-face to the soul fruit loop
4-Chicken pepper Salsa
Sun-face lights up Visa
5-Hearts of Artichokes Mona Lisa
6-Soy ginger salmon
My sun worshiper man

Fish tacos hummus
St Thomas
Rome was not build
In one day
The windpipes and
the tablecloths Oh! yikes
Full of dream pipes

Sun tan stripes and zebras
Couscous salad big star dipper
Egyptian Gods camels back
Sun-face diner no time
for the sun-chip snack
Diners from 1920-1940
Sun-face air force dresses

Medieval times two swords
Holy lords Easter parades
" Ice-cream Spumoni"
Dinner in the sky
Robin red breast fly
Italian artwork Coliseum
Look up in the sky
It's a bird shaped
Paper plane bad romance
going insane

Waffle House  jukebox rock and roll
Hall of fame whats in a food name
Cowboy steaks American Flags
Cajun chicken legs fruits and figs
At the caboose Ladybird jet lag
Valentine Diner chairs
got footloose homemade goose

Purple rain Prince maple
pancakes
Bananas and strawberry fields
lake sun in shape of a snowflake
Forest Gump changes to
Presidential Trump
Vitamin C  honey bunches of Oats

Yummy floats of egg cream
Open table Sun-face dream
Eggs light she's not finished
over easy
Pristine of carrots with
artful daisies
Thanksgiving turkey

Rings of napkins holding
A time well-bred marriage
Well known landmarks of
Carats
Long ago time she saw the light
Daylight Knight like a scale to weight

Whispers of wine and grapes
Sun face courtesan love escape
Sun Faces trillion times mansion
Sun-faces never go out of fashion
Sun faces and dinner places the best in the world eat heartily Drive in and Diners all over the world have a medieval touch with the Vikings and melodies from the heart  of the surface  her smile will always be there everywhere she goes the Diners place her with Rose
My insomnia is back
Mind is outta whack
This isn't really poetry
But I think you know that
Thoughts of something heavenly
Looking back on past memories

*******, I need to do something with my life
I write poetry
and have written a few stories
Tried programming as well as screenwriting
which I enjoyed immensely, but it costs too much money!
So here I am, back again with a poem
Another form of a story
I like it a lot
and have been writing them for about six months
And I'll write them again and again
Until my heart stops beating
Does this have meaning?
I don't know, it's rhyming
So it must mean something

Anyways, I don't know what to say
I thought I had it today
But in darkness comes the devil
His presence ever so powerful
Telling me I am special
But I struggle, yet he smiles
Saying that I have potential
Which I can't even fathom, not in this world of mine
That I'd like to abandon
Nah, I'm only kidding
It ain't too bad
No idea where it's heading
But I'm glad
Because I hate spoilers
Just as much as my handlers

That's a joke, I ain't controlled
I would go on and on
But I ain't going down that rabbit hole
My time is on a tight schedule, I don't got all-day
Another joke, ain't that funny?

You are wasting time though honestly
Reading this poem filled with much variety
Quite interesting though, wouldn't you say honey?
Yikes, a major yikes
That was pretty cringe, but hey
You're alive! maybe lost a few brain cells
But you already lost 6 billion from reading this poem
Ain't that swell?
You should see no difference though
You're already dumb
And quite frankly, appear to be a major eyesore
You look like something from Mordor
Now that's a joke

I'm sure you look great
A person that all should appreciate
Perhaps someone with heavenly energy
Something I wish to duplicate
But I can't, because I can't escape
Not from these snakes
I have a role I must play, which is fake
So many roles, so many faces
All  of which I can't break

I don't even know the real me, what I want to be
I thought I enjoyed writing
Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy writing poetry
But I don't really have that same feeling
When it comes to writing stories
What I want in life is to be free and happy
No worries, that type of thing
Writing poetry makes me happy
But it isn't stable, it doesn't bring money
What other thing is there besides poetry?
Maybe I'm being naive
Maybe I need to sacrifice some freedom
To have a stable income
But.. that isn't me, oh, I see!
At least I think
Help me, please

Yeah, this was one wild poem
If you can even call it that
It might be random
but that's okay
Insomnia made it whack
But also made me open about my current problem
You know, me not knowing what to be
Will poetry ever save me?
I suppose we will find out
When I wake up
From a deep sleep.
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Broken one* Wild face
Native Indian never staying put
Crystal dark sheer glass cut
Whats our destiny output

Her facepiece the center of it all
Smoking dust his peace pipe
Losing your charm says it all
your best stripes

You are stunned Oh! Yikes
Another target kinda
spiritual side
Taking another ride
Dabber that basketball
dribbler another hobby
Here it is the danger he hits
Someones face with his
Dagar dippy doo
His Hippy tattoo
[Mr. Arrow} so trippy
That Hellboy everything is
a race a ploy knocking
on heavens door
Bad demon arrow
heating up the red
****** floor
moods get to you snappy

The spies of the country
For the Love of God* the
world is crooked not a
straight line
Taking baby steps to reach
the heart bounty crime
You're left with half of a lemon
pie in your county

Feeling sultry eating leftover chicken
The pain deepens you got bones to pick
your bite and  his broken up website
The touch his words just had enough
Of his little arrow lie
Lemon for demons Cherry needs
her Godmother
What happens to her lover the
path of the arrow
Needed time the sign was done over
it says Get out your
not welcome
His broken up words in the cellphone

Chef knifes made of gold
But you face felt heart slit
You didn't exactly want to eat
Another time to hear his beat
Nothing was the perfect  fit

One mistake glass shattered
Wanting to chit chat
His arrow delivers the
dark sparrow scarred cat
Such imperfection goes too long
[Arrowsmith Dream on}
was not the time for his song

Like a heartbreak of glass
somehow
Love just never happens to glisten
All scarred from the past
nothing last
Heres your freedom pass
Like a Family with
steak knives 

Being choked up broken up
From a relationship you just got
I have been hurt words
on your coffee bold blend
Bad to be good beans cup
Those broken faces felt
the flood not very appetizing
Titanic ship, no sun rising
Not from a Hollywood wife
tightly Spider legs net  and her
high society every week he had to seek
Her wild side cheeks
Looks surprisingly well

It's her blood against yours
A plastic person, not a true
pledge surgeon Sweet Brandy

All broken glass always
a knife handy
The Boss just brush your teeth
More dental floss

The air became deadly the
gas chamber
Do you blame her your lover
had so many surgeries
House got broke into
Your face was so tight from injections
Where are the real people we
need more affection and more protection
Like a target throwing darts
Supermarkets old lady with her cane
This one is eating her sweet baby jane

A face not just any face video
games called *Face  Dark Arrow

you felt isolated more insane
Like a bird lost her wing flamed
Your voice was so broken up
you couldn't sing
game or having a revelation
Wanting more blood is this
the human race

Words broke up no face kind*
*Gardenly secret mirror behind
In centuries-worth
Man of the cloth
Shooting dark star arrows
In the highlands of the gallows
New birth mirror far apart
Arrowsmith pointed scarred heart
Were broken up with word or pieces scattered all around nowhere to be found
Does this good earth have our standing proud ground just wanting more blood like a blood brother what about your love for your Mother she know where to guide you she loves you but too many families are scarred all over
Ma Cherie Oct 2016
The house is quiet, only my whisper is heard...

oh, I guess I'm such a nerd,
are you hanging on my every word?

OK good, come on, let's go,

Shadows drifting, so discreet,
fowl breath, a cut out sheet,
  hard to move these trembling feet
a waiting guest, for me to greet?
not a trick, I hope a treat!?!

Perhaps the reaper comes this way
he knows of this, a game I play?
waking Crowley, where he lay,

I grab ahold the banister,
and step around the stair valute,
the air grows dark and thick again,
as everything is put in mute,
until a bell, I pause to think,
perhaps a playing flute?

Prolly not & that's real cute,
or maybe
inquiries of  candied loot?

True that,

I wait to hear again, a ding,
the joy of laughter it will bring,
the songs again my heart will sing,

I grip the rail, I'm petrified
a ghostly ghoul,
me, has spied
I move away,
from where I hide,

Shhhhhh be quiet,

My legs are heavy,
I slowly stepped,
you escorted,
up I crept
tears I wish,
that I had wept,
I move my hand,
away are swept,
no way for me to leave, get out,
they'd never hear me scream & shout
trudging on with wary doubt,
I bite my lip,
I moan & pout,
in every step, as I grow brave,
climbing up, a darkened grave,
with every step, my soul to save,

Very dramatic poet,
emmmm thanks, read on,

I reach the top in my suspense,
ahead I say, in my defense,
sorry if you're feeling tense,

It's alright,

I open up the door ahead,
filling me & you with dread,
dragging knuckles, telluric bed,
I look, in horror, shrilling,
....shrieking
a glowing face, chilling,
peeking, must be the one,
that I,
... am seeking!

I chuckle at the sounds of creaking,
bones & boards beneath my feet
they tell,
so sneaking up?
say
you lived in hell?
so I give up
hey, where's the bell?

Oh hear it is, that's just swell,
I know right?
Thanks for finding it though,

Look out!?!

Jumping out, you give a start,
I feel it pump inside my heart,
looks as if I need black art,

Yikes!!!

Your not afraid?
you silly girl, let me give
another whirl
a bony hand, sweeps & swirls
tattered sheets they creep & twirl

You do your best
to discourage guests
I'm prepared for any scary test
Yes I'm different from the rest,
& by the way,
you mustn't know that I am blessed
I'm not leaving, you may have guessed

Some pumpkins happy
some are scary
the children here,
they shan't be wary
I am not, no I am nary
this may be a fateful twist
but by the gods I have been kissed
sorry but your aim, it missed

I know that I look a witch
as I move my nose & give a twitch
but my dear, I pulled a switch

I raise my hands, I curse your words
as spirits cry, my voice, is heard
I bind you here, your soul I gird,
I cast a spell, hogtie your feet
take a bite, it's really sweet
yes my dear please have a treat
do you mind, if I have a seat?

I call my spoon, my kettle stirring,
as he speaks,
the words are spurring,
I laugh aloud, as kitty's purring,
supernatural events, occurring,
as caldrons bubble, broomsticks fly,
& Frankenstein went walking by,
his Mummy gives a wistful sigh,

Your look of shock, a priceless one,
like someone just removed the sun,
I dare not say, a silly pun?

No it's very good,
Oh hey thanks friend,

As breaking glass of aged pane's
& your attempts to stop me,
all in vain,

In  rattlin' of my heavy chains
relieving bones,
from what they weigh
as my skeleton comes out to play
protecting children as you prey,
wave a wand, a hand & down I slay,

Too much?

No, go on...

The werewolf howling at the moon
growling baying, softly croons,
a clown I think might be a goon,
the wicked hour coming soon,
cackling witches laugh &  snicker
spirits run & candles flicker
demons plot, giggle...
... snicker,
rubbing hands,
they fight & bicker,

Hehehe...

I must admit their kinda spooky
Some are cute and kinda kooky,
To me look like a bunch of groupies,

Ha ha, good one poet!
Oh, well thanks!

I give my stick another flick,
I guess I gotta few more tricks!?
as fires dance in flaming licks,

Ewwww, I like it...

Halloween no time for fools,
the banshee comes with gaurding ghoul,
we're taking him to scaring school

Oh very cool,
yeah I made some room,

You can ride with banshee there,
the one with all the crazy hair,
you'll be alright just don't stare,
It's not as if I just don't care,

Huh!?! Great,

The unwanted speaks,

Well my dear, I'd say we're even
but temporary guess I'm leavin'
and your magic I might believin
pretty good, you think you won
congrats again, it's been real fun
a spell like yours can be undone

Hmmmm,

Oh I see, you think my best?
wait a sec, I'll get undressed
something here I must confess

Most these monsters are my friends
on whom my back I can depend
do your thing, with time you spend

That's okay, you go ahead
I don't wanna end up dead
and now I see, an empty bed
& your face is just filled with dread
boy you're really turning red
must be all the ink I bled

Careful now,
is this just a story?
filled with rhymes,
& kinda gory,
finding out is mandatory,



Now I jump out,
- I just say BOO
I guess, you see-
the tricks on you!

Happy Halloween!

Great ending,

Awww thanks for the love,
yeah sure do love this time of year,
lotsa fun, this one,

Enjoy a candy,
& thanks for coming!

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Halloween, ooooo...
Spooky fun!?! Does it make any sense!
Oh I love monsters Inc, must be I remembered!
ryn Aug 2014
Sigh! It's so boring! Life's but a loop
Wish I could run with a circus troupe
Or maybe join a rock climbing group
Why doesn't 'coup' sound exactly like 'coop'
'Coop' rhymes with 'soup' which is 'coup' with an 'S'
I'm late, in hot soup! What a mess!

Work...work... Gotta get to work. I'm late
Aww man...did you really have to lock the gate??
Splendid, terrific, this is just great!
Who the heck puked on this floor made of slate

I'm out and it's pouring now. The rain will wash it away
Sh*t! It's pouring and I'm stranded, no brolly. Yay...!

Stranded...thank goodness I have music
Choose shuffle and then click
Through my plugs, stream out N'Sync
I know... I know... I know what you must think

I think I have to think of something
Take shelter for now is what I'm thinking

Or maybe I should call in sick
No...no... It's the last day of the week
A taxi! A taxi I should seek!

A taxi would quicken my pace
If I can get one in the first place
If only I hadn't sold... I still had my bike
My head wouldn't potentially be on a pike

Miss my bike, her knobby tyres, she was my Winona Ryder
Sensuous and sleek, my Yamaha with jet black fender
Ride a bike, must wear shoes. Much safer

Love my shoes, I own more than a dozen
Nails need trimm... Oh look! A ******* raven!

No... a crow... Well, some bird stranded like me
Can't fly on wet feathers seeking refuge under a tree

Wait a second! Where was I?
Oh nails! Trimming tonight, I must try
Clean fingernails, everyone likes
***! I'm still stranded! Yikes!

Brave the rain, walk briskly, no time to waste
Move quickly, go on...make haste!

Care not for getting wet
Go now! Ready...get set...
Awgh! Didn't zip up my bag
This just adds on to my lag

ZIPP!
TRIP!

Tripped over a stone
No one saw, luckily I'm alone!

Gee... I have 21 bags, perhaps too many for a guy
Must go jogging tonight, next week or maybe next July
Oh shoot, shoelace's undone...now I've got to tie
Text message in on my phone, volume set on high

Work just texted, asking so many questions
Among which - "Have you submitted last week's requisitions?"
Why do we text when we can talk
People don't meet anymore, on Facebook they rock

Hmm beginning to hate Facebook but I still do check
Woohoo! Found a coin by the grass verged track
Oh ten cents, well it's still money
I'll save it, it'll come in handy
Perfect! Now I'm wet
Because of the coin I tried to get

Hmm...where was I again?
Gosh my mind's like a derailed train
One of those days I guess I'll remain...
A...

          S CA  TTE  RB RA  I    N

.
And I'm still NOT AT WORK!!!! But at least I'm 10 cents richer!
Lost Girl Mar 2020
Often times people say go to the gym, “It’ll make you happy, and you’ll feel energized!”

These are some of the things I’ve experienced or thoughts I’ve manifested over my teenage years. Ahh yes great ol’ puberty! Onto adulthood, yikes!

Go to the gym and lose that extra weight that your family and so called “friends” have been passively judging you for.

Go to the gym, but don’t lift weights because you’ll get bulky, and no one will ever love you if you look like a female Hulk.

Go to the gym. Go to the gym. I hear this left and right. But I fear that I’ll embarrass myself and that everyone is watching me.

Anxiety and panic attacks hold me back. And what happens when that clinically depressed person is told time and time again to “just work out” and “get out of bed; it’ll make you feel great?” What if they just came down from a manic episode and crashed? What will people say then?

Well I know what I want to say:
This isn’t as simple as the morning blues or that feeling you have after listening to a sad song that reminds you of your past. (Not to disqualify those emotions whatsoever.)

Depression is the ruminating thoughts that no one loves you or ever will. It is feeling so empty that your appetite is nonexistent and your motivation to do what you once loved is gone.

Anxiety is holding your breath and forgetting to breathe, so you just sit there in pain until finally someone or something reminds you to release.

Release all that you’ve built up. Stop the isolation, and share what’s on your mind. It’s not easy. Trust me I know.

Two days ago I went to the gym, and yesterday I went to the gym. Can you guess what I did today? I went to the gym despite every fiber in my being telling me I couldn’t.

I had the support of my mom and sister. Find a gym buddy. Start small because all the machines and strong people can look intimidating. But they all started somewhere and now you can too.

Make a goal. Something that is not too small or too large. For me, I’m training for a 5K that’s in the beginning of May. It will be challenging yet doable.

Sometimes none of us knows what we’re doing, and that’s the beauty and challenges of life. Don’t quit after one try. Your journey is now starting its new chapter. Stay in the present moment, and keep going. I believe in you.
Today was my third day going to the gym and it’s helped with my depression. But I have this gloomy feeling that I’ll never get better.
If you danced from midnight
to six A.M. who would understand?

The runaway boy
who chucks it all
to live on the Boston Common
on speed and saltines,
******* in the duck pond,
rapping with the street priest,
trading talk like blows,
another missing person,
would understand.

The paralytic's wife
who takes her love to town,
sitting on the bar stool,
downing stingers and peanuts,
singing "That ole Ace down in the hole,"
would understand.

The passengers
from Boston to Paris
watching the movie with dawn
coming up like statues of honey,
having partaken of champagne and steak
while the world turned like a toy globe,
those murderers of the nightgown
would understand.

The amnesiac
who tunes into a new neighborhood,
having misplaced the past,
having thrown out someone else's
credit cards and monogrammed watch,
would understand.

The drunken poet
(a genius by daylight)
who places long-distance calls
at three A.M. and then lets you sit
holding the phone while he vomits
(he calls it "The Night of the Long Knives")
getting his kicks out of the death call,
would understand.

The insomniac
listening to his heart
thumping like a June bug,
listening on his transistor
to Long John Nebel arguing from New York,
lying on his bed like a stone table,
would understand.

The night nurse
with her eyes slit like Venetian blinds,
she of the tubes and the plasma,
listening to the heart monitor,
the death cricket bleeping,
she who calls you "we"
and keeps vigil like a ballistic missile,
would understand.

Once
this king had twelve daughters,
each more beautiful than the other.
They slept together, bed by bed
in a kind of girls' dormitory.
At night the king locked and bolted the door
. How could they possibly escape?
Yet each morning their shoes
were danced to pieces.
Each was as worn as an old jockstrap.
The king sent out a proclamation
that anyone who could discover
where the princesses did their dancing
could take his pick of the litter.
However there was a catch.
If he failed, he would pay with his life.
Well, so it goes.

Many princes tried,
each sitting outside the dormitory,
the door ajar so he could observe
what enchantment came over the shoes.
But each time the twelve dancing princesses
gave the snoopy man a Mickey Finn
and so he was beheaded.
****! Like a basketball.

It so happened that a poor soldier
heard about these strange goings on
and decided to give it a try.
On his way to the castle
he met an old old woman.
Age, for a change, was of some use.
She wasn't stuffed in a nursing home.
She told him not to drink a drop of wine
and gave him a cloak that would make
him invisible when the right time came.
And thus he sat outside the dorm.
The oldest princess brought him some wine
but he fastened a sponge beneath his chin,
looking the opposite of Andy Gump.

The sponge soaked up the wine,
and thus he stayed awake.
He feigned sleep however
and the princesses sprang out of their beds
and fussed around like a Miss America Contest.
Then the eldest went to her bed
and knocked upon it and it sank into the earth.
They descended down the opening
one after the other. They crafty soldier
put on his invisisble cloak and followed.
Yikes, said the youngest daughter,
something just stepped on my dress.
But the oldest thought it just a nail.

Next stood an avenue of trees,
each leaf make of sterling silver.
The soldier took a leaf for proof.
The youngest heard the branch break
and said, Oof! Who goes there?
But the oldest said, Those are
the royal trumpets playing triumphantly.
The next trees were made of diamonds.
He took one that flickered like Tinkerbell
and the youngest said: Wait up! He is here!
But the oldest said: Trumpets, my dear.

Next they came to a lake where lay
twelve boats with twelve enchanted princes
waiting to row them to the underground castle.
The soldier sat in the youngest's boat
and the boat was as heavy as if an icebox
had been added but the prince did not suspect.

Next came the ball where the shoes did duty.
The princesses danced like taxi girls at Roseland
as if those tickets would run right out.
They were painted in kisses with their secret hair
and though the soldier drank from their cups
they drank down their youth with nary a thought.

Cruets of champagne and cups full of rubies.
They danced until morning and the sun came up
naked and angry and so they returned
by the same strange route. The soldier
went forward through the dormitory and into
his waiting chair to feign his druggy sleep.
That morning the soldier, his eyes fiery
like blood in a wound, his purpose brutal
as if facing a battle, hurried with his answer
as if to the Sphinx. The shoes! The shoes!
The soldier told. He brought forth
the silver leaf, the diamond the size of a plum.

He had won. The dancing shoes would dance
no more. The princesses were torn from
their night life like a baby from its pacifier.
Because he was old he picked the eldest.
At the wedding the princesses averted their eyes
and sagged like old sweatshirts.
Now the runaways would run no more and never
again would their hair be tangled into diamonds,
never again their shoes worn down to a laugh,
never the bed falling down into purgatory
to let them climb in after
with their Lucifer kicking.
danny Jul 2016
oh god i would do anything to see leaves or fireworks or forget-me-nots or snow or tadpoles or anything extending beyond the current day

i'm sorry that our plans never made it to blueprints 

is there something about me that screams impermanence?

am i the human embodiment of a rest stop?
Batya Mar 2014
The wrong eyes
Ignited
Butterflies.

A stolen caress
Disguised,
Denied.

Self- destroying words
Thought; scrawling,
Doubling, dying.

A love poem
Pens itself,
Redirection in desperation.

Because--

The wrong eyes
Ignited
Butterflies
Last night.
marley dogwater Jan 2015
“delete history”
I think it’s pretty gay for a bunch of sweaty queers
To be sharing spit w/ each other
In a ******* closet
I think my ***** smells like macaroni
I used to ******* to animals beign tortured
I used to tell my mom
Im not pretty
Im not pretty
throw rocks at your garage
"BAAAMMM"
It’s hard to come up with 4 things at once,
I want to play violin in a bathtub at 4 AM
Because 4am’s cool
And it’s not really night or morning
It’s just stinky
Im just a kid with their stinky feet on a splintered stool
Watching suite life of zack and cody
In a pair of boxers they/i haven’t changed for like 3 days
I have a bic pen bumper sticker tattoo on my ***
You made me **** your **** and feed your bunny
And you made me hate white boys
I generalize
I forget to feed my tortoise sometimes
I don’t forget to feed myself
Im not cool and skinny and white
Im fat and
I never forget to feed myself
I eat the stuff on my body
Im my own **** tree I beare my own fruits I think you
Should get used to how GROSS I am
I got heartburn
In all the wrong places
I got an ache below the waist
and a cold sore on my heart
mûre Sep 2013
It's pouring rain and my backpack is full of strawberry kefir.
I think when we decided to take a break,
you took half my brain with you.

Kefir is a delightful crossbreed of Yop and Perrier. Creamy sublingual fireworks. A single tablespoon is sufficient to send a conga line of 5 billion probiotic bacteria boogying through your innards. But like most things I enjoy, I cannot successfully covet in small, measured portions. Which is why I went for the litre in the first place.

I imagine your face as I rinse my strawberry saturated belongings and imagine the microscopic bacterium hoopla happening between my fingers (you would laugh at my conga line comparison, because you are one of the world's only people who knows how much I truly despise conga lines).

Oh God, the water is just diluting the yogurt. It has become the great Sea of Kefir.

You would have the solution to this. When it comes to logic, you manage to beat me every time without ever making me feel intellectually inferior.

But I need to figure these things out for myself.

Luckily my other groceries were sealed in plastic:
-chia seeds
-goji berries
-cacao nibs
-wheatgrass

These were spared.

As you can see, since we have decided to embark on our own paths for a while, I have tried to be "HEALTHY!". The bathroom is a small library of moth-bitten self-help books (Thanks, Mom) and my bedtime is close enough to twilight to high-five the sun on its way down.
I've started to work out again with a little more addiction than conviction or even common sense.
And because you aren't here to regulate me, I've busted my knees (aaaa-gaaaain.)

And all notwithstanding, as I wandered down 13th avenue with my organic Hippie super-loot, feeling very smug and self-possessed in my birkenstocks, I passed by my favourite breakfast joint, and my kale-fertilized stomach was very persuasive: No, I insist.

Proceeded to savour three enormous pancakes that I could have stitched together to form a roomy buckwheat overcoat. Drowned them with a 3pm coffee. I thought nothing of it, but after all we've been through when it comes to food, you would have been so proud of me, babe. When I admit that I've got a broken heart (-darling, I know I broke my own) people are far too kind to me. 110 minutes and three sacks of flour later I float in a sweet gluten haze from my free (and freeing) lunch back to my apartment.

Which is when I discover the Sea of Kefir.

I think I'm trying too hard.

I think, really, the Art of Becoming One Whole Person isn't so much about us becoming the Perfect People we've always wanted to be. That's not why we strapped a hundred helium balloons to our otherwise incredible relationship and tearfully waved as it disappeared over the horizon. I think it's really about just learning how to regulate ourselves.

Here's one Truth: We will never, ever be perfect. And we will never find our perfection in each other. We have to let that go. We have to stop fighting against the invisible standards we create in each other.

But we can get over ourselves enough to be Pretty Great.
Just make peace with the Pretty Great folks we are. Have the 3 pancake- sore knee- kefir backpack afternoons, and still feel Pretty Great.

And when we do, I think our relationship will feel Pretty Great, too.

Because I'd rather be able to remind myself that I'm Pretty Great,
than rely on you to convince me I'm Perfect.

Yikes, there it is.

So that's my homework. It's full of errors, and there are countless agitated holes worn through by pink erasers, self-doubt, and heartache.

But I know, darling- that by the end of this, you'll give me a sticker-

(and by then I wont need it)

I'll put it right next to the one I've given myself.
Woah! A rant? A letter? A story? Who knows.
Should I hang with my friend who I haven't seen in a year or go meet this tinder girl?
Someone New - Hozier

I just can't put my finger on it.
something about her is goregous.
Baby Got Back - Jonathon Coulton

You're right. It's totally her ***.
Ugly Faces - Watsky

Shh, spotify, be nice. It's not her fault.
Do Better - Say Anything

Okay okay, you're right. I'll bring her home.
All Time Low - Jon Bellion

Oh c'mon, She's not that bad...
Proove Me Wrong - Dub FX

Well like... her personality is pretty cute.
Some Girls Are Crazy - Echo Movement

I can't beleive I just had *** in my backseat.
Glad You Came - The Wanted

Yikes. All the girls dropped from this party. it's just gonna be me and my three dude friends.
To Many ***** On The Dancefloor - Flight Of The Concords

I completely agree. Should i go or just come up with a ****** excuse to leave?
You Don't Have To Be A ******* - Flight Of The Concords

You're right i'll leave. What should i tell them?
Working - I Fight Dragons

No i already told them i got the day off. That wouldn't work.
My Buddy's Back - Big D and The Kids Table

Oh perfect!
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit

Yeah I should go to bed.
Let me finish this poem first.
Go To Bed - Ookla The Mok

I'm stuck on this line.
What's a good word to describe Port Veritas? Like... one word?
Home - Phillip Phillips.

That's adorable... you're so right.
See You Again - Wiz Kahlifa

******* spotify that was super uncalled for. Now i'm bummed out.
Get Over It - Ok Go

Dude. That's like super insensitive
Ungrateful - Streetlight Manifesto

No i'm not ungrateful. I love you, you just don't need to make me cry when i'm down in the dumps like that.
Lean Into The Fall - Mona

I guess you're right. Fine. Thank you.
All The Stars In Texas - Ludo

That's the nicest thing that anyones ever said to me. I like when you do that.
Like or Like Like - Miniature Tigers

Uhh, i guess like like. You're pretty much my favorite app.
R U Mine? - Arctic Monleys.

I think maybe you're moving a little fast spotify... i don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys

This is getting weird. I'm going to bed.
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie

Okay no, seriously i'm turning you off.
*Don't Unplug Me - All Caps.
JR McFadden Jun 2015
Life and death are one in the same; most people just don’t know that. Once you realize that our conscious doesn’t walk the line between the two realms and they all exist in the same realm, you’re entirely ******.  The mundane reality of our existence becomes shockingly clear and it makes you wonder; who gives a ****?  For some reason or another we are expected to, just like we are expected to go to school, just like we are expected to get a job, just like we expected to work our lives away until we are old and gray, then we are expected to enjoy our golden years; die and go on to heaven or whatever. What happens when you reject these conceptions fundamentally and create your own. I don’t know… you don’t know… nobody knows. We could all just **** ourselves and maybe that would fix the world, well… no; that wouldn’t fix the world, but it might fix mine. That seems like a terrible idea doesn’t it? Self-destruction for self-preservation. What I mean by that is this, the world will either crush your soul and **** you, or **** you. So why take the risk, risk the disappointment? This was a wildly depression interpretation of existence. Maybe it's like this because I’m stuck in some dumpy ******* town… Where people drink to drown their boredom, which I find wildly depressing and somehow they soak it up. My entire life has been broken up into 14days on and 7days off. This means I spend 2 thirds of my life with this uninspired people how think binge drinking is the only way to have a good time. I suppose there was a time in my life when I could relate; however unfortunate that is. But now I’ve lost the desire to do so. Where are the other people in my life and in my writing? So focused on my own views on the world with know one else’s ideas or perception. Loneliness seems to be a theme of my life, and understanding myself is my great pilgrimage. The exploration of my body and soul can be achieved. It  begun when I realized I was a conscience being, The first time I contemplated suicide was at the ripe all age of 13. Why I thought about this on a beautiful day at the lake I had visited in the summer with my family for years, puzzles me to this day. Which happens to be the origin of some of my fondest memories. On my bike in the green space that over looks the beach next to the lakeside community center. The sun was bright and the day was hot. Family and friends that I’d known for years surrounded me. Could have been the fear of rejection from the girls that I had little boy feelings for. Interesting how the fear of rejection on such a minor scale can lead to self-destructive thoughts when I should have been playing in with my friends and riding my bike. Trying to write a story… but instead I get a case study for a psych student. Idle hands are the devils playthings. I was thinking earlier; as I was trying to find an activity for the evening and being told time after time that the bar called the Detour was the best place in town to have fun because in this town that’s where people go to drink and here drinking is the thing to do. I thought writing with all that for inspiration would be very difficult. Turns out that it’s not really difficult but **** is it depressing. I want my mind and soul to be immersed in art, music, poetry, philosophy and love; not drenched in close-minded thinking and rye whisky. But here we are, writing in my surprisingly nice hotel room. It’s brand new and the beds are fancy, I thought two pillows was more than enough, but here… I have FOUR! **** shame I have no one to share it with, but that’s to be expected. I feel like Weyburn Saskatchewan isn’t the place where I’m going to find the love of my life and I sadly don’t have much interest in becoming intimate with some unsavory harlot with tattoos being the primary sense of identity.  It doesn’t interest me in the slightest. There was a lovely girl at the restaurant today though, I was there earlier for dinner. She was from Victoria and seemed like a genuine person, but she had a boyfriend who dragged her out to this **** hole… yikes. I’m sorry beautiful, I hope he is a good man, because I would like to think that I could offer you more… but here I am... and what the **** do I know... Writing things that will probably never be read by another human being on earth, unless some catastrophic global event destroys everything on this planet expect my laptop and a few lucky survivors who repopulate and thirty thousand years from now they uncover this and recover my hard drive and finally read this. As unbelievable unlikely as that is, this one goes out to you future folks. Well done you guys really pulled through. If monkeys have taken over… I’m very sad that you’re reading my long dead words, I really feel like we would have really hit it off.

Ok ok, lets see if I can give you something worth reading. I want to write a novel, I real story. Something epic, heart felt and amazing. I don’t know if I can do it, but I have soooo much time to **** so **** it! I CAN DO IT!
Story ideas…
- Duel personally kleptomaniac
- Barbarian warlord tale… blood, guts, **** and  battle.
- Exploration of the world.
- Create my own world….
- A ****** tale about a guy who works in the oil patch and writes garbage, gets stuck and gets a cheese burger.

Alright… well that’s what I'm working with…. I'm going to get a cheese burger.
Don't take this seriously... I don't
tempest Jan 2019
are we really woke as much as we all claim to be?
or are we woke to ease our minds, which ain't reality?

of course we've signaled heavy change, i won't deny that's true
but let me have your ear for now, give you another view

are you really woke because you post a rant on twitter,
but bop to Chris Brown's music even tho we know he hit her?

are you really woke cause you were born into the slums,
but if you make it out,
you forget where you are from?

are you really woke because you claim to love black hair?
but only like the softer textures, is that really fair?

are you really woke 'cause you admire that 4c?
but put down girls who have relaxers, wigs, or wear a weave?

are you really woke because you claim to love all people,
but if ya boy is gay you will denounce him at the steeple?

are you really woke because you say you know what's right,
but ostracize your fellow blacks,
simply cause "they talk white?"

are you really woke because you claim to love all colors,
but date a darker women? yikes! you'd rather find another

are you really woke because you claim you've got insight,
but if i am depressed, you say that mess is for the whites?

i bring up all these issues not because i hate my own

i bring up all these issues just because they're never shown

and if we are to grow and prosper,
thrive and shed our past,
we need to have these conversations,

                                                 ­                                make sure that they last
In light of the r kelly docuseries, I thought back to this poem I had written about a year ago over the black community tending to overlook issues that are prevalent among us. Conversations about colorism, mental illness, homosexuality, the covering of black artists and entertainers after serious allegations, etc., are always difficult conversations to have, especially when years of culture are intertwined with it, whether it should be or not. In the past decade or so, we've come a long way in opening spaces for these discussions and the R. Kelley documentary is just one of many ways how we continue to do so.
Bob B Aug 2018
A mob boss for president…
Yikes! That's what we've got--
One who profits from crime
Without a second thought;

Who keeps his family close by;
Who's close to each paisano;
Who looks less like a Lincoln,
And more like Tony Soprano;

Who praises convicted felons,
And pardons them as well;
Who cares less about country
And more about his cartel.

Loyalty is his mantra.
His underlings owe him all.
He sounds like a mobster when
His back's against the wall.

He'll rip you a new one if
You ever decide to flip
And prove that you're a rat,
Or try to give him the slip.

"Flipping should be illegal,"
He brazenly repeats.
Without it he knows there'd be
More crooks on the streets.

A power-hungry bully:
It's his goal to be one.
Listen to his rhetoric:
"I know a rat when I see one."

His fixer threatens reporters
And does the boss's bidding.
But when he seeks revenge,
The boss isn't kidding!

Driven by ambition,
Egomania and greed,
He lets mob ethics guide him
To always take the lead.

He's the kind of guy
You read about in books.
Watch how he surrounds
Himself with other crooks.

Those who cooperate
With law enforcement will find
That he retaliates
If ever he's maligned.

Top decision maker,
He gets such a thrill
Promoting or demoting
Anyone at will.

Having a no-good mob boss
As leader strikes a nerve
Because it's hard to accept
That that's what we deserve.

-by Bob B (8-25-18)
Mae Nov 2017
I've done it again.

I lost track of time and put myself before everyone.
I forced myself to look away because I knew it was true
I quickly became ashamed of what I'd become

I so easily turned into what I hated most
Someone who values her own opinion so much
That she is unafraid of hurting everyone
Someone who "loves" herself so much
That she tears people down
Someone that is too smart
Too intelligent, to discuss just exactly what the hell is her problem
Someone who is so broken
That she allows herself to shatter others

Someone that put up the famous walls
But couldn't break the 4th one.
Someone that lost touch with reality.

Someone that refused to admit it.
Golden sun sets on the concert house;
The hellish day, it’s now been dowsed.
Asphalt night and onyx skies,
Crowds and crowds of endless size.

Yet it rises on the wooden stage;
Burning, scorching, lunar rage.
Curtains of lapis suspended,
For a show that’s highly splendid.

The bands, they take up their instruments,
Checking function with much diligence.
The azure slides, the crowd’s boisterous,
Let’s send them home filled and joyous!

Strum and strike, music sounds and hikes.
Mystically does it flow, no break or pause.
Number after number, avalanche of applause.
Now they’re screaming and whistling! Yikes!

The night wears on, and sapphires glisten,
In skies of turquoise and warm transition.
Marmalade sunrise, it goes on and on!
But nowhere in the hall is there a yawn.

The crowds recede like biped cattle,
An endless, drunken, random rabble.
The next noon, the hall’s still defiled.
Music echoes in their heads, meanwhile.
JDK Nov 2016
Perhaps I should've thought twice before partaking in this hike.
My legs are killing me.
I'm tired all the time.
My dreams only remind me of all the trips that I've had.
Those are stones and these are bones and one day you'll have a grave to call your own.
AJ Jun 2017
It's a rotten place to be.
Not knowing witch way is up or down, or left or correct.
muteD Oct 2018
Pathetic.
That’s what I’d call you.
Just plain miserable
and manipulative.
You tricked me into giving you the world .
Deceived me into believing that you’d never do me *****
You blinded me by your lies
“Forget about them , you have me.”
But , I didn’t really have you ..
Did I ?
You took what you wanted .
You let me put you before myself .
But ?
I don’t even blame you .
Maybe if I would’ve been in your position ,
Being offered the world
And only being asked for friendship in return ..
Maybe then I would’ve robbed you of your trust .
And your love .

You were my best friend .
My ace ,
My platonic soulmate .
And I treated you as much .
But, what was I ?
To you ,
What was I ?
A personal tutor ?
Remember those last two essays that you just couldn’t get done ?
Who helped you ?
Who stayed up after an exhausting day at work ,
After having to bike home in the cold and rain ?
Just so you could pass and not worry.
Maybe , I was just a free ride .
Always taking you places ,
Always giving you the keys and letting you do whatever.
You filled the tank maybe twice
within a nine month period .
And I never once said anything .
Oh I got it , I was your ATM.
Whenever you needed money ,
I was glad to help .
Whether it was for an Uber so you could go to your volleyball tournament
Since your own “mother” couldn’t take you
Or whether it was for a Plan B because
YIKES
Your boyfriend didn’t know how to pull out .
Hm , I guess I was also a personal shopper .
Buying you clothes when I bought me some .
You didn’t wanna spend your money ?
That was fine .
I would spend mine
And you didn’t even have to ask.
I was everything except your friend
and that’s all I wanted to be .

I should’ve seen this coming .
I should have KNOWN .
Looking back
All I can see are the signs ,
Foreshadowing what was to come .
You started to change right in front of my own eyes
but I didn’t want to believe it .
Didn’t want to believe what I could clearly see .
You started to ignore me .
For days on end .
Living in the same house became something like a
Silent war .
Everyone against me .
Including you .
You started to disappear into your room .
There were no more lifetime movie marathons together .
No more staying up and goofing around together .
No more talking about any and everything together .
I lost you way before I knew I lost you
and that makes my heart ache
like a pre-existing bruise
getting hit over and over again .
This poem means a lot to me . Honestly . Someone hurt me and I don’t know how long it’s gonna take until I’m okay and don’t think about it anymore .
you remind me of mac and cheese
creamy, salty, and cheesy
just the way i like it
i always want to see you.
Homunculus Mar 2016
Whoever wrote "all men are created equal" never saw ****.
Big Virge Dec 2018
I Believe it Shows...
Good Sense ...

To RESPECT The ...

..... " INTELLECT " ..... !!!

When it ...
Comes to ... The Ways ...
My Words ... Dis - Sect ...
Current Trends ...
That Now ... DISPLAY ...
PROBLEMS Like .... Theresa Mays' ... !!!!!

Does Brexit GO ... ?!?
Or ... Come To Play ... !?!

Like Iceland Did ...
In THAT ... Football Game ...
That Sent ... England ...
Packing .... with HASTE ... !!!!!

Intellect that ... SPREAD ...
Like ... Brexits Name ....

Sent The England Team ...
Back To ... Their Plane ...
While Iceland Fought ...
... another day ....

WITHOUT ... Brexit' ...
cos' They ... REMAINED ... !!!

Unlike ... " Intellects " ...
Who Were ... QUICK TO CLAIM ...

That ... " Britains GREAT " ...
Like The ... " Good Ol Days " ....

When The Empire RULED ...
In ... BRUTAL Ways ... !!!!!

My intellect NOW ...
REJECTS ..................... Their CLAIMS ...
And Being ... CLOWNED ...
Because of ... My RACE ... !!!!

Because it's ... " Found " ...
A BETTER Place To ... " Nurture " ....
Who I am ... TODAY ... !!!

A Poet whose ...
Intellect is ... FUELLED ...
By Finding ... TRUTH ...
And Being ... Schooled ...

By The People ... Who ...
DEFINE ... My Hue ...

Much DARKER Than ...
THESE ... English Crews ...

Who ...
Choose to ... ABUSE ...
And Act ... UNCOUTH ...
In places where ...
They Should Just ... " cool " ... !!!

Instead of .. ACT ...
Like Hooligans ... Who ...
Keep Playing ... The FOOL ...
Until they're ... BRUISED ... !!!!!

By Those Who CHOOSE ...
To .... STAND UP To ...
Their ... IGNORANCE ...
And .... Racist Moves ... !!!!!

Right Now .... Of Course ...
The POLES Face SCORN ...
From Brexit' Hoards ... !!!!!!!

On ...
RACIST Grounds ... ???

WHOA ...
SLOW Your Roll ... !!!!!!

Let Me ...
Say This .... NOW ....

Are they ...
Dumb like ... Clowns ... ?!?

cos' i'd Like To Know HOW ... ???
These Polish ... " WHITES " ... ?!?!?

Are a ... DIFFERENT Kind ...
To Brits Who've CLEARLY ...  

LOST Their ............................................................. minds ..... !?!?!

Isn't Race ... DEFINED ...
By ... " COLOUR Lines " ....

They're clearly ... Sniffing ...
TOO MUCH ... White ... !!!

To CLAIM ... " RACISM " ...
As the name of The ... " Ism' " ...

That ....
RULES The ... " *** - is - ion " ...
Now Dividing ... Britain ...

So ....
What is it ... When Blacks ...
Face ... Race Attacks ???

An ism ... that now ...
Just Does NOT Count ... ?!?

Maaaaannn' ......
These ... HUMAN HOUNDS ...
REALLY DO .... Confound ....

Because They CLEARLY ....................

REJECT ...........................

Using ... INTELLECT ...
Or BETTER Still ... YES ...
Some ... COMMON SENSE ... !!!

Cos right now .. it's
DOLLARS and CENTS ...
That Has The Pound ...
On The ... DEFENCE ... !!!!!!

No More .... FAT Cheques ...
For ... Corporate HEADS ...
From .... FOREIGN Grounds ....
Cos' immigrations ... "drowned" ...

UNLESS You've Got ...
A Right To ... STOP ...
And ... NOT Face Cops ...
Because of ... Where ...
You're ... Coming From ... !!!

No RESPECT For ... Young Children ... !!?!!

Who Now ...
NEED HELP ... !!!

From England's WELL ...
of Stocks That ... SELL ...
Like Oil From ... SHELL ... !!!!!

But The Well's Run DRY ...
So ... HARDER Times ...
And BIG ... Price HIKES ... !!!!!!

Have Got ...
Some People Saying ....

"Yikes these people have
no exit plan, intellects just left
once Brexit SLAMMED,
the door to funds and immigrants
that actually help, our country run !"

And ...
There It IS ...
NO Jim to ... FIX ...

Like He DID ... Those KIDS ... !!!!

Whose INTELLECT ...
Got ... NO Respect ... !!!!!

I guess that's where ...
This piece should end ... ???

IGNORANT Heads ...
From ... ALL Continents ... !!!

Are Proving Themselves ...
To Be .......
FAR FROM .................................................. Well ....... !!!!!

And Lacking in  ... YES ...
Some ... " Common Sense " ...

Which is Why They DEFEND ...
Their .... IGNORANCE ....

So Use Their Heads ...
Like ... MURDEROUS Feds' ... !!!!!

Who ....
LACK ... Respect ..... !!!

So Choose to ................................ REJECT ............
What This Poem ... DEFENDS ...

Which is to ... Suggest ...
That We REJECT ...................................................... IGNORANCE ..... !!!!!!

And INSTEAD ...
USE Our HEADS ...

To RESPECT ...

.... " The Intellect " ....
Take a listen here - https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/the-intellect?in=user-16569179/sets/the-cmi-sessions
magnoliajelly Mar 2016
i should feel worse
i know this
i should feel sadness like heartbreak
like heavy pain
like deeply sewn aches
and hurt
and withdrawal

maybe i do (i know that i do)
i know i am sad, disappointed, hurt, upset, annoyed,
angry
i can't believe the love i gave you (you gave me too)
but you forgot it was important
and lucky
you forgot that my feelings of love might not mean much
to me
that they might not matter at all in the face of such helpless talking
it's not enough to love someone and do them wrong
it's not enough to keep me this way, like this
trapped in what you feel for something else and what you don't feel for me

i don't want to see you
i don't want to talk to you
i don't want to hear from you
about you
care about you
i don't want to think about you
i am love and magic i am love and magic

march62016
Sjr1000 Dec 2015
How's your life?
How's your wife?
How's your stress?
How's your strife?

Made any progress yet?

Going up?
Going down?
Coming back around?

I just have one question
What is it that you've found?

Strategies for living
They come and go

One minute you don't know
The next minute you do

One minute you have it all figured out-
The next minute you're filled with doubt.

It's a twisted ******* mess
we're in.

You either keep it on going
or
You step on outside trying something else

Having no answers
doesn't help
You just gotta figure it out
How
to take care of yourself.

Yikes!

Good luck!
Good luck
Good luck.

It's a *******'
life
we're living -
Don't you think?
Nat Lipstadt May 2013
Used to tell 'em not to cut my hair too short,
When I was young-old,
Nowadays I just tell him cut it short,
so it
Spikes...Yikes!

Makes me realize,
Vanity is one of my
Oldest friends,
And also, one of my
Oldest enemies.

I like Bob Dylan's songs,
Like him better these days,
When younger voices cover him,
And I hear his word-songs differently.

Oh I love to laugh,
Especially at myself,
Silly boy in the mirror,
Who the heck are you Grandpa?
I am,
The Times They Are-A-Changin'
Nowadays, I'm  growing down
Lamb Jun 2015
You're just my type
Everything I like
I've got you in my sight
Caught in the spotlight
****...it's so bright
Give it a try, I just might
This could be so right
Even the perfect height
Being with you is like full flight
Higher than a child's kite
You even got the same musical likes
Not even scared, no fright
My heart skips beats, yikes
You and me, that'd be tight
I think it could work, quite
Trust me, I don't bite
*How else to explain it,
Other than to write?
Crandall Branch Nov 2017
pitter patter* go my feet as I walk over to visit my *****

swish swish go their lithe bodies as they waddle over to meet me

chomp chomp go their dextrous mouths as they consume the food i tossed into their tank

click clack go their sharp claws as they pinch everything they see

ouch yikes goes my mouth as i scream in pain

stomp stomp go my heavy feet as i run away
please leave feedback and comments below! :)
JES Nov 2014
If you combine every cliche in the book
It wouldn't compare to how I feel for you.

Because I want to love you
And **** you in your sleep.
when I was a teenager I played basketball
my long range shots made good strikes
each one did of the spectators greatly enthrall

opposition teams would say the word yikes
after I'd place a three pointer in the hoop
my long range shots made good strikes

the coach loved having me in the troop
effective at getting an extra point for the tally
after I'd place a three pointer in the hoop

my other team members would always rally
they'd be spurred on to play a tip top game
effective at getting an extra point for the tally

our basketball team made others look lame
we gave it our all on the court to be victorious
they'd be spurred on to play a tip top game

every ******* our home team played glorious
we gave it all on the court to be victorious
when I was teenager I played basketball
each one did of the spectators greatly enthrall
Izaak El Amado Oct 2020
Why all the women i love think of themselves as product
Maybe cuz all the other brothers treat them like nada
I look from behind n see she intellecually and sexually
worth more than prada

(stop being sad)
Jo Nov 2013
When I have fears I won’t get likes
After posting my senseless selfie (taken in my bathroom),
After tweeting a witty, wasted “Yikes!”
Upon seeing the latest Cyrus escapade on Reddit come afternoon;
When I behold, upon night’s starred face,
I see it through my IPhone’s two-dimensional screen,
And I think that’s what’ll get the rest of the race
To notice me, after all I’m important – I don’t mean
To demean, but I’m the fairest creature of the hour;
I sometimes fear that you shall never look upon me,
Well I never have to worry for now I have the power
Of unreserved reticence to bestow upon thee –
**** the hollowed experience, the heart, the mind lag;
For my exhausted existence has been validated #420yoloswag.
An english assignment in which we had to choose a romantic poem and make a parody out of it.  I chose When I Have Fears That I May Cease to Be, by John Keats.
Thomas Dec 2015
Part One

One day while in high school (am now out of college) I, Mattias,
went over to my best friend Joey's house. When I got there, as
usual, he was working; he's a nut job, or better known as a handy
man during the summer, but keeps up the big old house where Joey's
family, (Mom, Dad, five daughters and one son, Joey, the youngest) eat, sleep, and amortize the dwelling mercilessly where it's in
constant need of maintenance. e.g.: 5 girls, all girly girls and
their mother = 6 females, copious use of the room where one
rests (rest room), an enormous amount of toilet paper with all
that other female stuff that is jettisoned down the commode.
This impaction desperately attempts to navigate an old, cast iron,
privately owned (not city) sewer line and sewage system.

So one can see,
and smell, huge problems, almost daily. Btw: they have five
bathrooms. One can only connect the dots to each one of
these strategic stink-bomb sites and see a pungent, pontifical,  stanky  mess on their hands. Half the time a
bathroom is cordoned off with yellow tape, like, where's
the detective? A crime has been committed in this bathroom
by a bunch of
females.
Strangely enough, the olfaction in this old castle didn't seem to
bother these girls. As long as it was their crap, all mixed together,
they all are of the same bloodline, who cares? It was almost as
if they liked the smell, since it was theirs. It was creepy, but
these girls were so good looking it didn't matter to me. Joey
would laugh as he could see how I was enamored with them all.
Yeah, I didn't mind hanging at Joey's house. His sisters:
their beauty; was through
the roof. They were cool
inside too!

So Joey is pretty indispensable in their household. He has tons
of other jobs, paid ones, to perform, but maintaining the five
bathrooms for these girls and the two men of the household was
a full time non-profit summer job, except for expenses; how quaint?

Part Two

This one particular day I stop over,
                                                       like I do almost daily; cut
through the open garage to their entry.
                                                       Joey knew I was coming
so both glass and fire door were unlocked.
                                                       ­ I walk in, shut the latch
to the glass door and saunter straight
                                                        ­into the Kitchen and
see Joey fishing through his junk drawer
                                                        se­arching for a bolt. He
said he was working on the plumbing in
                                                        one of the bathrooms.

The next thing I know, one of the neighbors in the culdesac of
which they live, Mrs. Turigliato, knocks on the door and tries to
open it but the latch is locked. The old fire door was open, so I
could see her. I waved and walked over to open the glass door.
Says Mrs. T, “Oh hi Mattias.” I reply “Hello Mam.”

She locomotes by me with coffee
in one hand, cream and sugar dripping
on her robe and coffee droplets free-falling
onto the VA tile floor with little splatters.

A tiny planet is being hit
by mini nuclear bombs, yikes!

She approaches Joey; he's scrambling and rummaging
through their seriously versatile junk drawer for the
right size bolt to perform surgery in one of the rooms
with a bath (bathroom). She cackles,
“Hi Joey, whatcha looking for?”

Part Three

Stop here a sec!**

If Joey would have said “I'm looking for a bolt” this story
would be over. In fact, there would be no story except a big house
with a sick septic tank on private property not run by the city.
Instead, he says “I'm looking for a *****?” While we both
(Joey & I ) might have quietly chuckled, Mrs. T's response
was a bit more than I could handle at this delicate age. Says Mrs.
Turigliato, “Go see Trudy, she will give you a *****.” Trudy was
our age, Mrs. T's daughter, and she was hot, but this was too much,
my abs were killing me. It doesn't end there:

Our mouths are tongued tied shut; taut. Unbelievably, Mrs. T
presses on;

“I'm serious Joey. Go, right now, and get a ***** from Trudy.”

At this point we were holding it in, suffocating, choking, yearning
for oxygen. Eggs and bacon started to make their way up my throat. I couldn't take this. We both quietly gather some air.
Not a ******* word from Joey or I,
Mrs. T is on an oblivious roll:

“Don't you want to get a ***** from Trudy, Joey?”

I can only imagine poor Joey's mind, thinking “Yes Mrs. T, but not the type ***** you're thinking about.”

We stay quiet, not a word..... then the miracle. Joey says “I found the right bolt.”
Hearing the word bolt and not ***** evoked an inquisitive, clueless, look from Mrs. T, her painted and pointed brows scrunching up and taking on new formations, but out came no words. She turned around and waved good bye, never saying why she came over or what she needed. Joey's Mom wasn't home but Mrs. T didn't even ask or say what she wanted. Strange ****.

Conclusion

Being a few years later, Joey and I still laugh our **** off when one of us tells this story. Even at parties, dudes and girls go nuts. Maybe some day it will be one of those “you would have had to be there” stories to maintain its staying power, but so far both Joey and I have gotten dates from girls at parties after we tell this story. I guess they like something about it. That's cool with me. Mattias is my name, and my best friend is Joey.
________
Fictional narrative prose based on a true story.  I know it's a bit long but I hope you hang in there to read it all and enjoy it as well.  Thomas
Nat Lipstadt May 2013
Holy Crap,
They Sold My Name!

No big deal, your name, your email, bought n' sold daily,
Like a baseball card, your picture and vital stats are on the internet,
Your credit card in the fine print tells you they love you much,
But the data they collect, might get credited to such and such.

You're fair game if your sign up for anything.

Now I know I am getting on in years,
Tho spry rhymes with die, I flatly deny
Any notion that
My great beyond is just around the corner!

But Holy Crap,
They Sold My Name!

Got a color brochure
Suggesting that when my travels are over,
A nice place to rest my head might be
St. Michael's Cemetery.

St. Michael's Cemetery
7202 Astoria Blvd, East Elmhurst
(718) 278-3240
Friday hours 7:00 am–5:00 pm

In case you want to check it out too...

Tho I live not in the Borough of Queens County,
My zip code but a hop, skip and jump away,
The cemetery adjacent to the Grand Central Parkway
Which is actually quite thoughtful of
The mass marketer who dreamed up this scheme
(And got paid a plentiful amount of bounty).
My kids could wave as they drive by,
On the way to LaGuardia or JFK, (airports)
And say, guilt free, they visit me regularly!

Sadly, their plot foiled,
I will be buried in
New Jersey soil,
Near to my pop, who liked the
Wide open spaces of suburbia
And shopping on Route 4,
Where the selection is great
And there is no sales tax.

But Holy Crap,
They Sold My Name,
And I am now target marketed,
Niched, pretty soon the boys from AARP
Will come calling, reminding me of the gap
Tween Medicare and the poor house!

Ok ok,  grow up you say, tho your hair is full,
And not even a hint of baldness shines forth,
Nonetheless, its color is zebra striped gray,
And when someone says they got my back,
I think, please, please take it and keep it....

Oh yeah,
Dear St. Mikes
You might ask for some of your money back,
Cause this sily scribe is a member of the tribe,
Some call "those ***** (hint: it rhymes with Mikes),"
It starts with K and ends in yikes!

But thanks for thinking of me anyway.
Jess Williams Aug 2015
i. you’re lying on your stomach, pressed skin-to-skin, and time has lost all its meaning. you feel as though your little twin mattress has turned into a life raft. as if your bedroom has no ceiling and you can trace the stars’ reflection in the water. you don’t think that the stars you’re seeing may already be used up and dead. that the tide you feel under your bed might be the beginning of a storm instead of the gentle guidance of the moon.

you roll over, hold him in your arms, shut your eyes and feel the rocking of your tiny boat against the tides of a world that made you believe you’d never find a life raft.

“Do you ever feel so happy you could die? That if your life ended right that second, you’d be fine, because you were alive to be that happy.” lips parted against warm skin to mask emotional intimacy. a lie of omission.

“Yeah.”

you have enough of a self-preservation instinct (and a desire to keep your life raft at all costs after having gone so long without one, truth be told) not to ask him if he’s happy enough to die right now

the simplest lie of omission.

ii. there’s more than that lol
    I love you
                                                                ­                                       No, you don’t

iii. a text I’ll never send:
you get a four month vacation in my heart. you get to use me as *** and a replacement for real human intimacy because you were always intent on leaving St. Louis. a convenient way of saying you were always intent on leaving me. you tricked me, duped me, trapped me, and you get an easy way out.

I would say you should have chosen someone more stable, but stability isn’t really what you’re looking for and you’re probably right, after all.

I have enough scars that at some point, I’m sure I won’t know which ones are yours.

iv. it gains more meaning the more you say it and the more you hear it.

“I love you.” three simple words that are a challenge and a call to arms against the rational mind. at first it felt like hitting a brick wall at 70 mph, but now it feels like getting in clean sheets after a warm shower.

you can say it when you’re choked up with an ****** or when you’re choked up with tears or with his hand around your neck and it doesn’t lose its meaning. it grows to the occasion, takes up space, fills silences that used to feel like chasms between you both.

he can say it when you’ve gone out of your way and when you’ve got tears welling up in your eyes for no reason again and when he’s falling asleep on you again and it doesn’t lose its meaning. It doesn’t feel heavy or like an apology.

or like a promise.

v. you’re worried you’ve caused a landslide in yourself by simple expectation.

“Is this okay?” with his hot breath in your ear and his body pressed tight to yours and his hand in your underwear. as if you could ever deny him.

as if it would get easier after repeated use.

as if it would hurt less every time he didn’t meet expectations you continually lower for him.

as if you didn’t open your legs every time his hands touched your bare knees.

but when he’s got you pinned to your own bed with your pants tucked barely under your *** after you’ve said, “No. I want to do this my way. For once, I am making a demand of you. For once, I am not lowering my expectations,” you know it’s kind of too late to slam on the brakes. there’s no reversing a landslide

it’s ugly and gross and demeaning, but only the tiniest part of you cares because the real crime happens back in April when you asked him, “Can we stay like this forever?”

he’s already taken your heart for his own like a conquering hero. the rest is just the spoils of war.

(love)

vi. if you could reverse a landslide, though, you probably wouldn’t.

vii. I’m now more sunshine
      (it’s happening. it’s really happening. you and your heart don’t factor into my plans at all)
                                                                ­                                                      yikes
     ­                                                               Fl­orida is such a weird state, man
               (do you have to throw it in my face? can’t you just pretend? lie)
only if you’re weird, man
(no)
                   negative. even the rain in Florida is weird. it’s like. sideways.
                    (I wish that it mattered to you that I’m hurting. I wish that I         was enough for you. You’re enough for me.)

viii. it’s all kind of about what you believe.

every relationship has a time limit. aren’t you lucky to know when the clock is going to run out?

there was a time in your life, not too long ago, when you would not have accepted being loved. you didn’t accept being loved over and over again. you would give all your love and ask for nothing in return. “The greatest gift is just to love. And to be loved in return.” Okay, that sounds fake, but you’re not as sick and sad as you used to be.

this is not unique. bad things like this, basically paper cuts as people on the surface of your life, happen all the time. you just board up all the windows and doors against further intruders, put a band aid on the surface of your life, and start again.

it’s all a matter of perspective. glass half full glass half empty.

a flip of a coin.
Written August 20, 2015

— The End —