She driven in an old convertable In a black and white film. How pretty, So sad.
Tag Archives: Poetry
the needy, a poem.
LA is grittier than San Diego; more smoke cigarettes, more women wearin’ tight jean shorts. Some are wealthy Some are not. All are needy of being human. In the 2nd Confederacy, they burn books and women are ordered to give birth, with babies holding bibles….
Captive audience….a poem.
Watching this play is killing me. The directing and staging are terrible, the acting half-hearted, the plot unbelievable. I was tied to my chair, way in the back bleeding from nose and ears. But I pulled at those ropes, Until I became Free….
Southern Comforts….a poem.
I once lived in Florida, but never saw any gators…. But I did have a bible thrown at me enterin’ a gay bar. Nothin’ like that warm Southern Comfront, Where men are men, stuck in someone else’s closet. And the women can only make babies…. But I guess it ain’t so bad, sense that drinkContinue reading “Southern Comforts….a poem.”
Character Flaws, a poem.
When people betray me, it takes me too long to forgive. I don’t mind poverty. What would I do with wealth when there is so much suffering. I’m a Blackman in America, (and no one will date me.) I’m Bi, and no one will date me! I’m too brave to be an atheist and AbrahamContinue reading “Character Flaws, a poem.”
Internal Dialogue, a poem.
Internal Dialogue …. his back was turned From me, I heard a muffled voice, I should have killed ya’ when I had the chance….” The Warden politely coughed, “Pardon me?” “Sorry, Warden, I wasn’t Talking to you, sir. I was thinking of the friend Who put me in this chairContinue reading “Internal Dialogue, a poem.”
He couldn’t shot….a poem.
I liked penises,andwent to a man-whore’s house. Another kid caught me sneaking outat night, “got you you faggot!”and shotme dead. Went to hell,touched the flames….and they were fake. The devil was fake…. “pop” The boy pointed his revolverand I stood my ground, Then I walked away…. Lesson learned: the revolver is,but hell is fake.
14 billion mini mes….a poem.
The lecture hall is loud, many conversations, nothing discernible. Then all is quiet. “Today’s recurring thought is, ‘I’m not powerless’ Now repeat it, Again, again, Good! Excellent!! Now go out and terririze and conquer the day. Class dismissed!” And I’m more focused, Whole.
Little cowardly men….a poem.
Men of little hearts, fearful, greedy, spineless, throw bibles from bushes in Balboa Park, Dark in Supreme Court dresses at women they can’t have Or be. Their country pulling away, No matter how the cowardly pull at the people. I say, In my Betty Boop shorty shorts, ‘you’re fake, Let there be War….’ They pullContinue reading “Little cowardly men….a poem.”
A personal problem, a poem.
Some porn suggested, that I should give in to my desires…. I desire a higher purpose than merely being alive. My life matters! My death matters! What matters most Is the Fermi Paradox….
Liferaft in the Abyss 