"yip" poems
I laugh a lot.
I laugh at myself because I am hard stuck to find the beauty in the poetry
but somehow to others words flow like vicious currents rip through ugly ducklings never to be grown to beautiful swans down the river Delta,
the Nile,
we call it emotion, this the true beauty of the words is always flowing page to mouth to mouth to ear,
honey water to be digested by the soul and mind
and some breast stroke some and some do the butterfly and some just fuckin' drown...
so you could say to some poetry is no laughing matter...
yet here I titter like a child because I cant help but wonder if Daniel's saying penance or just stuttering the word *****
So I laugh
I laugh and laugh and laugh I laugh at myself I definitely laugh at you people
I ha ha ha my course thoughts, outwards reflecting anger passion, turning it away
with the yip yawing of jaws and gums flapping in celestial proportions of denial
snorts and giggles push back emotion drowning out any semblance of fear or hate
because who's to say I can handle it,
call it sociopathic tenancies but I'll make it make belief because we just cant handle the fairy tale we live in
we cant handle that there might be no happily ever afters and we cant handle that we dont have a Prince charming to take care of us
but instead the crown is Crown Royal and you love it, love the burn down your throat,
something to keep you alive something to keep you awake but aren’t the two just one of the same anyway?
What is each day but a dream if automation takes you over rides you out like a machine and pushes 100110101.
So I ask you,
I ask you to listen to the words and the voice,
swim down the river any way you want just get your feet wet because living on dry land is living in fear
But more importantly I ask me
I ask me to do what I asked you to do, but how can I trust me to do what I told you to do when I hardly connect the concept of we and have used it but once in my work, though I am no different than you!
Because what are we if not all the same?
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
her dog put to slumber. thin as a puddle. there at the end would whimper with any footfall on a gentleman’s coat.
-
her pup a yip
in a backpack
when on occasion
she'd punch
a skateboard
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
(truck-drivers, bar-boozers, loser-bar yokles, blue-collar rednecks will all love this smash hit song!!!)
Rockin country genre
"Big Mouth Surgery"
(by david John Clare)
(rockin' country drunk hick juke-box mix)
Wow! She sure does talk a lot... could almost cause a riot
But we don't get... just what she's trying to say
We could hear her fine before... when she used to be quiet
Guess all them new school-words get in the way
We took her to see... a gypsy-psychic-magician
But he wanted more... than we could pay
So we took her down to see... our local town physician
And here's what old doc... had to say
Boys...
"She needs Big Mouth Surgery"
Her tongue is on the blink
She just talks, sqwacks and talks some more
'Cause she don't know how to think
So please don't be stallin'
Her brain is now corrupt
Can't you see that she has fallen'
And she just can't ''shut-up!"
Big Mouth Surgery
Cause no pills seem to work
Hurry please now doctor
Before she drives us all berserk
Big Mouth Surgery
But will it work without a doubt?
Better make it a lobotomy
Before she starts to shout!
(solo)
Our reputations are expensive
While her talk is **** cheap
You just can't tell her nothin'
'Cause a secret she can't keep
No one seems to know
What the fuss is all about
We're just waitin' for her brain
To catch up with her mouth
She needs Big Mouth Surgery
Her mind is on the blink
She always talks, talks and talks all day
Why can't she just please stop & think?
So please don't be stallin'
Her head is all corrupt
Can't you see that she has fallen'
Her fat-mouth can't shut-up!
Big Mouth Surgery
We need to find her a shrink
Hurry please there doctor
Before she drives us all to drink
Big Mouth Surgery
She's heard north, east, west & south
Who gave her brain a laxative?
Got diarrhea of the mouth!
Big Mouth Surgery
No pill can take effect
Hurry please now doctor
She is a mental wreck
Our minds: she made us loose
Her words: just seem to ooze
It's so hard: to take a snooze
We just drown all-day in *****
Beer, Whisky, Wine & ***** . . .
To wash away our ear-ache blues!
Yip Yip Zip Lip! ...Yee Haw!
(c) 2009 David Wayne Clare
CLAIRVOYANT MUSIC / BMI
all rights reserved
in perpetuity
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 2:28 AM UTC
Waning dappled moonlight mantles
the margin at the wild-wood edge
Stiff tufts of summer dried grass spears
sporadically sway — raking against
the scarlet poison oak leaves
gently sweeping away the moonlit silence
airing the sounds of velvet antlers rubbing
barkless mountain willow trunks bare
Subtle nuances constantly animate
twilights rhythm; heaven flickers
upon a dark umbrage of forest pillars
softly as a candlelight’s fluttering glow
evanescing half way across the sky;
the sparse illumined clouds stream through
the lambent halo around the rutting moon
fleeting in the blink of sleepless eyes
and like the silent touch of a talisman,
transfixed eyes are entranced by all
the restless night disrobes,
captured and cocooned by the seeker’s
awakened senses
An erratic, familiar feral bark peals haughtily;
a pack of maturing spring pups yip, bellow and shriek
in youthful pursuit; the howling report back,
ignited by the scent of a rabbit's paling squeal,
aroused by the pulse of brother wolf
rippling deeply through their blood
The dried grass game-trail crackles towards the ridge top:
an aging full moon is not enough skylight
to see beyond a seeker’s stirring silent reverie
the coyote choir’s sudden reveling echoes rekindling
an extraordinary sheltering intimacy within;
bending slithers of moonlight into a dull moonlight mantle
but I can feel its weight breaking me ,... forlorn I can't physically
reach out to touch them in an absolving moment —
understanding love was always the purpose of being ,...
futilely repining — I can't face myself alone again
harlon rivers ... October 2019
.
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 8:39 PM UTC
stop with all the yip and yap
this is just rap, that i spit back
from the back of a snapple cap
then i told jack, he didnt know jack
and flipped off a blackjack and throw it back in the stack
for talking smack he got smacked
like Pat Sayjack i'm spitting all writtens
so these cats cant say jack
i'm going Inn outlining lions lining
furlongs longer than fur lining
twisting tongues with twisted rythming
my words and rythmes colliding with perfect timing
haters slip and sliding like
Poseidon riding down a slip-n-slide, end slipin-n- sliding
two worlds collide-in
line with the silver lining
i'm in line with you online
your outlining --
stop and rewind, end
your mouse crawl -in,
for you two view what i can do
with rythmes so fly they caught the flew
i got so many styles I thought you knew,
i'm a trending topic, what else is new?
i can flow for miles
spit rivers too --
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
Coyote’s mournful howl echoed
in the new moon’s enchanting sultry ether;
breathing the living harmony of the wilderness rhythm
He seemed to sense a soul reincarnation
within a pervasive spirit light
an oft misunderstood
common thread shared
this hallowed land’s night
An uncommon Zen stirring from within,
stifling apathy ..,
. . . of rumble deep beneath
a dormant volcano reawakening ;
that which lies undiscovered
just before the ruptured moment ..,
liberation of release ―
dust and ashes taking flight
Through open window insomnia churns
fifty shades of blue ..,
cast in shadowed hues of broken silence
Coyote stirred the stillness
with a hauntingly familiar cry
reading the ridge-top echoes
like the book of my mind
" YIP YIP A ―W O O H !!! " . . . the somber plea
For it is in these final hours chosen chore
the recurring torn
these chains and things
Coyote was going there ―
to stand these watermark crossroads
this hour of need
Accepting brother has always been lonely
sometimes anything
means something - -
and so it goes ..,
Coyote communes in pulse
from ancient realms
this sacred blood ..,
Om
the lost chord
wounded healers ,
. . . one mutual spirit
runs marrow deep
where dogs run free
The moan of doves whisper to the impending dawn
. . . always known these days
too soon do come and gone
What once was a life well lived ,
s l o w l y e v a n e s c i n g
like the summer river’s flow
some say ..." you never miss the water
'til the well runs dry "
. . . regrets a waste of time - -
Rumination, a loathsome silent reverie
a taunting unsolved koan
an unplanned oxymoron ,
beget of a deafening silence
. . . dust sleeps with indifference
veiling a beautiful handmade
unstrung guitar
muted - - abandoned,
tone poems, unsung
and so "re-begins" the task ...
come what may rise up
into the dark star's light ...
Coyote was going there - -
a dawning metamorphosis
under another nebulous sky
. . . refreshed by Luna's potent alchemy bestrewn
in her spellbinding lambent moonlight elixir of life ...
harlon rivers ... 5. 21. 2015
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 11:21 AM UTC
Coyote by my door at night,
meadowlark in the morning.
First that yip,
then that sleep,
now the pretty singing.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
You are beautiful.
The words whispered without doubt.
Each syllable slipping through smoothly,
as if somehow shaping this statement supports
and supplements its substantiality.
You...are beautiful.
A falling phrase fathering the feeling,
that every fleeting fear has found itself futile and foreign.
Until you find yourself yielding and yearning to yip,
as you did in the yesteryears of youth.
But these words are not spoken with enough clarity.
These words are taken as a compliment meant to leave you blushing.
They are understood as a revelation encountered after you are found to be the victor
of a superficial comparison with those around you.
As if each attractive feature earns you additional points,
with a judge that can be bought with each glance and smile and touch.
As if each insecurity that you feel,
or each person that you think is more alluring,
can somehow subtract from the meaning of the statement.
Your beauty cannot be compared.
The beauty that you contain cannot be explained
to joking friends when they ask where you fit in on a 10-scale.
You cannot put numbers next to the hope and insight that you so freely give.
There are not enough hedons to quantify it.
You are beautiful.
I will repeat it until you think it echoes off the walls surrounding you.
Until every time you look into a mirror you believe you have x-ray vision,
and you can see the warmth of your soul,
with the clarity of vision that you have granted me.
Until you realize that every smile that appeared,
every laugh that escaped,
and every brief happy dance that was ever done in your presence
was caused by the beauty that rests within you.
You...are beautiful.
Wielding the talent to brighten a day with a single smile,
the power to make all of the worries and doubts in a person's mind disappear
with a single thoughtful statement,
a capacity for selflessness that allows no cynic to doubt your motives,
and the ability to make others realize their own beauty
just by interacting with you.
The world is more beautiful because you are a part of it.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
0623
*yeah, mom's sleeping still and i have to go out. i keep throwing my bone at the cage and she keeps telling me to lay down and go to sleep, but mom, I HAVE TO ***
0630
ok, moms up now and she took me out. i peed three whole times and sniffed a few other dogs' trails. i wish those other dogs would stay out of my yard. don't their parents know this is my yard? maybe you should tell them
0800
Woooooooooooooooooooo, Yip Yip Yip! it's time to eat! nom nom nom nom!
0825
mom is annoyed with me so she gave me a new bone to chew on. she calls it a bonut because it's shaped like a donut. i'd rather have a real donut.
0940
i must've been good because mom gave me a treat. i'm so good when i sleep. <----Hey dad, look, i'm a poet just like you!
1134
how am i texting you? i have no thumbs...or no phone for that matter
1500
Yip Yip Yip! you just pulled up! you're home! be prepared, i'm gonna attack you once you open the door and slobber all over your face!!!
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 6:22 PM UTC
she was a peregrine
& appeared to me
shimmering in the
primordial morning
between purgatory & hell
talons like a crucial valve-handle
carrying me outside the gaudy dream
my heart's vagrancy
the latent tendency i had
of putting chemicals into my body
despite the ugly consequences
one man's poison
another man's high
now sunlight fractures into spectra
wind blows thru century-old oaks
becomes tangled in my
nipple-length blond hair
as we march hand-in-hand thru
these narrow streets
the pinched labyrinth
the last dusk light
this swamp
she was a peregrine
the hungarian turul
genteel brown eyes watching me
howl at the midnight moon
& yip like a fox at the first dawn light
now she shares her own
breathy yelps with the pillow
like fumes of lavender
sprayed in a strand of oaks
i know for a fact she has claws
she swore she'd never use them to hurt me
but sometimes i let her anyway
i need to feel those
dead fingernails buried
in my living shoulder-blades
propelling me into a new kind of manhood
redeeming my weaknesses
weaseling into my shorts
pains & insecurities
melting like cloud's spit down the windowpane
lazy & safe on a warm sunday
morning wrapped together in the skin
of this gyrating palace
this is no longer casual desire:
joni mitchell sound-tracked
our first makeout sesh
as stars bloomed fat
behind a surly multitude of clouds
over a tar-colored lake
so if you think i'm ever letting her go
you're a *******
pants-on-fire
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
I want to be friends with the Sun
You know, like hangout, have fun and shoot the breeze
OK, I know it's hot, strong, powerful and super blazing
But it must be pretty lonely hanging there on its own
I mean, what fun can you have nuclear-izing all the time
It should chill a little, the Sun
I could get it to smoke a cheroot, come to a barbecue
Perhaps have a fiery whiskey or a ginger beer with a zing
We could go to hell's Kitchen and have a well singe T-bone
I'll even take it to a Tanning saloon to see its competitors work
Yip, I'll really like to be friends with the Sun
First though, its got to really cool down and be calm
Why all the the fire, the explosions and relentless blazing
Look how long its been going on, any wonder he hangs alone
Like, its got to know too much heat is good for no one
So, I'm going to go hang out with the Sun
About time it has a friend and some sound advise
Maybe I should take along some Fire-fighters just in case
But it's got to know, we come in peace, not to douse it down
It's all fire with the Sun, but it should know that Fire, fire fire
Is only good in Hell and that's not a place for our lovely Sun
Anybody got a long distance Rocket...anybody...?
Coyright. LaurenceA.29thJuly2018. All rights reserved
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 3:23 PM UTC
I have come to conclusion
over sunpierced crust
brittle as tobacco leaf
astride mottled nag
scraggling on loose gravel
sandsoaked
saltsteeped
leadheavy in lid
past dactyled tracks
parallel cobbled macadam
wavering shale
lockjawed lava rock
fractured cobalt
lone juniper
forgotten scrub
open boil of tar and pitch
halfburied bones of leviathan
still shifting in the clouded boom
of stone
through grapeshot hail
adobed pueblos
thatchskinned women
and straw men
all witches
flaying the gila
pestling scale with cornmeal
and fermented mescal
desert sangria
hallucinating sideways in the murk
where coyotes yip
and each star a conflagration
mirrored in the captive eyes
of floundered meteorites
at the terminus
where sun and moon merge
I know the question
and response
from where do you come
to where do you go
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 5:04 PM UTC
I will do
these amazing
things, just for you...
I will go to the nearby garden
of my neighbour, and steal the juiciest
fruits, the tastes of which contain
the wondrous tales of the trees,
you will be so excited to listen to
the tale of the mother parrot, who tasted
every Guava, and took the bite only from
the sweetest part to share with her children.
This neighbour might come after me carrying
his stick, but any risk can be taken, for our fruity
moments of togetherness, when we will sit cuddled,
and munch on fruits making surpy-surpy sounds...
I will make an orchestra
consisting of singing bulbuls,
koyals, pigeons and sparrows,
and will not say no to any
bird or animal who wants to join in.
For example, crickets and monkeys,
can join in, and even happy wolves with
their hoo-hoos. We should not say no
to anyone, because although our orchestra
may not sound well, but everyone
should be happy, everyone has a heart
which must not be broken...
Then, there will also be a dancing DJ for
the Sur-Suri Dance of the snakes,
for the Halli Dance of the dogs,
(originated from Hallaq Kuttaq,
their great-grandfather),
also some monkeys will be allowed
to swing their hips, all for your entertainment,
Some hyenas may also do yip-yip-yip,
and cry and laugh, laugh and cry,
but you mustn't be afraid then,
for these hyenas are also pals...
for you see for this day everyone
is our friend, the whole universe
is our friend, love flows like a waterfall,
for we are in love...
© Manan sheel.
Nov 12, 2019
Nov 12, 2019 at 6:53 PM UTC
tiger, he was,
could not honestly,
tell you the breed...
he was a mispent afternoon's produce....
but by the stock of his body
and the smile on his face
some one's prize corgi,
was now in disgrace...
allways a smile and a little
yip-yap...
he was my childhood,
of running and jumping,
just because, we could.
the picking of blackberries,
the finding of mushrooms,
wandering along creeks
and afternoon naps,
with his soft furriness,
under my palm....
mottled through, ginger
and blue,
with an under-carriage,
supposedly white,
but more often muddy or dustily brown....
a co-conspirator of the highest degree....
would sit under the table
and eat pumpkin for me.
but not the beans....
they made him smell...
his tongue so long and pink,
his ears ***** and mobile, tail was docked,
but his *** it did wag,
with such a unique style.
he was my childhood,
but then,
he was gone...
off to chase rabbits up
on the farm...
good boy tiger....good boy
you where my protector
with you i came to no harm...
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
90,000 Screaming Fans
There are those like Norfolk who follow me because I
wear the crown, there are those like Master Cromwell
who follow me because they are jackals with sharp
teeth and I'm their tiger, there's a mass that follows me
because it follows anything that moves. And then
there's you.
-Henry VII to Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons
Bahhhhhhhhh! Yip! Yip! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny! Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Bahhhhhhhhh! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny! Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Yike! Yike! Yike! Bahhhhhhhhh! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny! Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Bahhhhhhhhh! Yip! Yip! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny! Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Bahhhhhhhhh! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny! Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Yike! Yike! Yike! Bahhhhhhhhh! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny! Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Bahhhhhhhhh! Yip! Yip! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo!Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny! Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Bahhhhhhhhh! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny! Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Yike! Yike! Yike! Bahhhhhhhhh! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny! Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Yip! Yip! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo!Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny! Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Bahhhhhhhhh! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo!Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny! Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Yike! Yike! Yike! Bahhhhhhhhh! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny! Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh!
https://apnews.com/article/virus-outbreak-college-football-dan-mullen-gainesville-football-1e21c3bd07b05e4ea0ecd02fa9923679
Oct 15, 2020
Oct 15, 2020 at 9:44 AM UTC
each nun my mother sees is shorter than the one after it. this too shall pass? she remains nonverbal. I try to include my son. my depression is a tractor beam that attracts newborns. my thoughts are a thought below the whimsical race. I take photos of escalators paralyzed by three dimensions. I give them as gifts to my father lost at land and sitting on steps to hear the silence in his head. a toy pup expires with a yip in a ransacked store. you are made melancholy not by the pup but by its fallen battery pack belly. I say to a pockmark what I say to immortality.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
Thinking about you,
As I play the piano,
Waiting for you to get back from the bagel store,
I grin like a satisfied cat,
Full of sweet cream, lovingly provided.
Our church is being fumigated,
And today will truly be a day of rejuvenation.
The dog is yipping,
The bird squawking,
Alice is singing,
I'm playing,
All this is a mere pin drop
Compared to the choral ensemble
That sings your praises
Whenever I whisper your name.
Knowing your love shall return,
With a bag full of bagels,
And your singular spirit of loving,
Is what makes my play,
Makes Alice sing,
Makes the bird squawk,
Makes the dog yip,
Makes me grin like a satisfied cat.
That knows that it is loved.
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 9:11 AM UTC
There we stood, my dog and I
The wide open expanse of the winter
Field beneath our feet. The vapor of our
Breaths mix as we charge through the
Snow, side by side. I see the earnest expectation
That shines in his eyes. A bond is formed.
A sudden stop, ears perked, there exists only
The dead silence of the space between us and
The woodland trees in the distance. The thin
Border between our world and the wilderness.
We **** our head towards the sound from the
Trees- the distant yip of coyotes. A tension grows.
I see the silhouettes, they silently glide across the
Dark horizon of the forest. The taunting yips call
Out to us. The hair stands up on his back, on my neck.
Blood in my ears, the taste of iron at my teeth. We
Crouch and stalk, a snarl forms in his toothed mouth.
The opponents stand, sizing up. Yellow eyes lock.
My veins pulsate with blood, our hearts pump as one.
The dog looks back, his eyes begging for the command.
Pleading for the shedding of blood as the animosity fills
My eyes with blackened darkness, hearkening to the days
Of spears and stones. My fists clenched and a snarl forms
Around my lips and my teeth. The space shrinks.
I can taste the blood, I can hear the wounded screams of
Our opponents as they fall at our feet. Tearing of flesh
And breaking of bone as his teeth rip skin and my hands
Crush necks. And yet a sudden moment of clarity visits,
And I grab the collar despite the desperate cry. A retreat is made.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
Poem a day, day 5
Crap day
Crap day
Crap day
Crying stings my eyes
Even that's not going right for me today
Yesterday I breathed
And wondered if that's enough.
Today I breathed
And could almost wish I hadn't
**** today.
Wouldn't have minded a **** today actually
Another thing that didn't go my way
Thanks for pointing that out.
Now could just do with a hug
And some decadent food
Yip great coping mechanism, I don't care.
I will probably care tomorrow.
Oh well, today is crap
I will ignore consequences
And tomorrow will look after itself
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 3:16 AM UTC
In today's complex world
Full of questions and hazards
Where some voices go unheard
And people have conflicting standards
Sometimes I wish
That for a little time
I could be less human-ish
And more canine
I could run like crazy
And bark like a dog
And after hours of playing
I'd skeep like a log
I could jump and yip
As a clever little fox
With agility and wit
I could skip over rocks
I could join the chase
As a strong hunting wolf
In an open, starry space
I could just howl and woof
Somedays I'd like
To be of genus Canis
For I'd enjoy being doglike
When humanity gets on my wits
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 7:31 PM UTC
friends are still friends
through words or not
sometimes their words
are all they've got...
letter to letter
they can communicate
a letter of words
can inform a friend
"No I didn't forget
your birth date"
the message just
got to them late
but all in all the
message got through
they might even send
one back to Thank You.
friends are still friends
it doesn't really matter
from distances close or afar
words can be spoken
from wherever you are
typed or even by hand
words can also be written
to or from a friend
letters or poems
of rhythm or rhyme
a friend? to that I say
"sure" a friend I'll be
if you'll be one of mine
a friend.... YIP-EEE !!!
a friend of POETRY
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 4:51 AM UTC
Sirens yip and bark
Like frightened gazelles on a
Asphalt savanna
Children and teens howl
And laugh at games and parties
Like hyena packs
Cars and trucks rumble
Like lions lounging in the
Hot summer sunshine
Parents chatter in
The shade of oak trees, like a
Calm herd of zebras
Smoke rises in air
And all gather to the grill
Like a water hole
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 12:06 PM UTC
would not recommend the usual quiet
or the quiet we project,
the necessary
the led to believe
quiet,
not even the quiet
of accurate prayer-
instead, the stillborn baby
into a room of loud colors
into a surrogate room
that is now
smeared
wall to wall
inanely
with moaning-
this is where we are, speak up, we come
with given
thump and wail-
better yet, make it some beast’s
unmoving
tail end
of litter, make the little
one
speak english- yip, mew –
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 2:31 PM UTC
what if my skin was really yellow but the vision of your mind is telling you it’s brown and you’re convinced to think it’s brown, what if your lover really didnt love you, what if dinosaurs are still alive… would you want one as your pet? words are very strong, but it also depends how you see them as…. what if “talking **** was an honest opinion? is there such thing as a perfect error? so many poems to write, i just can’t gather all my thoughts in one so i scatter them out and write one small one. all the yip yap people say is really annoying but it’s a subject of matter you have to deal with, i wake up anew, and do my do’s, through the pain, i’ll always say the truth.. it’s not about it being about me it’s about me doing what the right thing is. life is a religion, and misunderstood art. the poets are the preachers, the words are the scriptures, many things are jejune, that’s why we don’t keep up with it. so much creativity keeping me stable, and writings. the feelings of expression and people being amazed by it is significant, all of the creativity, it’s allowing us to make mistakes, art is knowing which ones to keep. music, is really complex if you really look behind the meaning. simple if you just listen. i’m a curious person, curious about my mind because it’s capable of so much and controls so much, controls your style and taste levels that determine you, at time you’ll feel useless to the world, but then i realize how many lives i’ve impacted. i’m just passionate about different subject, i can’t really explain it all in words, more i’d like to show people. just to show off and to be looked up to, but then again, well die and rot and 10 years from that you’ll be 1 of billions that died… that simple. i suffer from hubris, tons of it, it’d be hard to understand, yet it’d be understandable if you were me. many people have it, but are ******* to show they’re significance, i go to school to learn fuckery, but i already know what i want to know thanks to the little scenarios i go through on a daily bases. i just can’t stand the fact that people always have to look on the negative side, why can’t they just sit back and look at life like i do and admire. greater things come ahead. what if i was the next ****** a loving kind who loved his people. who knows, so many unanswered questions that will never be answered. artistic visions that will never be shown. **** hate, yet so much violence. a lot of love, but much *** i dont ******* know, just a little thought, got a little lost in the moment. peace. love. "happiness"
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC