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duck Jan 12
call me a simp
or maybe a wimp
but i'm so down bad
that i've gone mad
every second spent
in torment
thinking about you
and feeling blue
while in the back of my mind,
i know that you don't know
my existence.
Poetoftheway Oct 2019
don’t tell me “I love you” ~by Roxanne, for Cyrano~

<>

that’s a verse I’ve heard many too times before,
that’s a curse of low majesty, a quatrain too plain,
if that’s your best sally, retreat, say no more,
too simp verses, or ungolden silences, agents of dissatisfying pain

I need the best of your taste
the finest visions that you eyelids occlude,
make haste for my mouth grows exceedingly
impatient for the other senses to do their tandem wooing

slap only my face with the creature comforts others savor,
words of diamonds and pink pearls mined from your breast,
the bejeweled words that will decorate my evergreen,
that never dies, lest, unless and until,
you want my mortal affection suppressed

give me your linguistic promiscuity, wake me from the stupor
of ordinary, arouse me with thy tongue coiling, a bee sting delivery,
a wet poem that makes all my orifices!|offices weep, your mouth,
my souls recouper,
your wizardry bewitching,
answer my inquiry with unbounded festivity

then and after all, the plain simplicity of an “I love you,”
will be edged with sublimity, my mercies, your mercies
our jointed, sharp pointy, introverting, interlocking,
our futures becoming
our pasts


11:07am
19-9-30

<>

https://thenewgroup.org/production/cyrano/?gclid=Cj0KCQjwz8bsBRC6ARIsAEyNnvoENpdnWyqeUEwq0avNStgWCf4CocB1i2­39c2mHdNSFF8gOlWZtfjsaAls4EALw_wcB
no Mar 2020
I was known as the white knight
the king that could smite
a man that would defend all women
if an other man offended a women I would kick his head in
not  literally
I could never do it really

but now they have changed my name
it is really a shame
I am now known as a simp
I could have been a ****

of all the e-girls
they are the only thing that I care about in this world
from start of belle
till she fell

but only if they are attractive
and I will wait till there boyfriend is inactive
that's when we come
but we don't do it for fun
we do it for the women
and also jimin
I am a simp
I miss your eyes on me,
And I can’t sleep,
Your voice in my head,
Unable to think,
The mist and the tears,
I can’t decipher between;
And another glass sits empty.

I’m blank of meaning
Without any ideas to say,
Just tell me if I’ve been pushed
From your mind already
Because the silence
Has taken me to an asylum,

And when I yell to the breeze against my face
Barely alive and disregarding speed limits,
I wonder if the lyrics I speak
Tear you to pieces
As they do me,
Since they speak truth better than my own.

When did you forget me?
It’s degrading to only know
By feeling,
And not by telling.
I can taste the sulfur
In the air tonight.

Why didn’t you warn me?
30 lines, 258 days left.
Bella Isaacs Mar 2022
I can do this too, when I'm not au naturel
And trying to beat all of your @sses with how well
I make the gentleman, how excellently I am the imp,
How swell I step, dancing, aside, how terribly I simp -
Sometimes catch me getting back and giving the barman a chance -
I heeded their call; I washed off the day, and stepped into a trance
Of raspberry, rose and sandalwood; I donned my blue and pink silk,
And my black boots, tights and blazer - She's got style; And in that ilk
I also painted my face, with blues, whites, pinks, blacks, golds
And it was late when I stepped out, and in the very holds
Of the night that a lady like I should find terrifying, but I walked
The quarter of an hour to the Silk Mill; talked
For something more like four or five,
Face sharp, hair artfully mad, alive
In every sense, aided by the fine cocktails in this student setting
I could enchant all in four languages, and I did, forgetting
For a bit that another one of my faces I believe to be repugnant:
Because it begs for attention; and my current, commanded it
Because I came expecting nothing, and asking nothing,
And I quite frankly didn't give a d@mn about much of anything,
But if I wasn't very much a part of the room, and very much she
Whom every boy needed to speak to, and would ideally keep the company
Of, if that wasn't I
Then every lie's a truth, and every truth, a lie.
I need to remember more often that I can be stunning, easily, if I just remember that I have standards.
When first thou didst entice to thee my heart,
      I thought the service brave;
So many joys I writ down for my part,
      Besides what I might have
Out of my stock of natural delights,
Augmented with thy gracious benefits.

I looked on thy furniture so fine,
      And made it fine to me;
Thy glorious household-stuff did me entwine,
      And ‘tice me unto thee.
Such stars I counted mine: both heav’n and earth;
Paid me my wages in a world of mirth.

What pleasures could I want, whose King I serv’d,
      Where joys my fellows were?
Thus argu’d into hopes, my thoughts reserv’d
      No place for grief or fear.
Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place,
And made her youth and fierceness seek thy face.

At first thou gav’st me milk and sweetnesses;
      I had my wish and way;
My days were straw’d with flow’rs and happiness;
      There was no month but May.
But with my years sorrow did twist and grow,
And made a party unawares for woe.

My flesh began unto my soul in pain,
      “Sicknesses cleave my bones;
Consuming agues dwell in ev’ry vein,
      And tune my breath to groans.”
Sorrow was all my soul; I scarce believ’d,
Till grief did tell me roundly, that I liv’d.

When I got health, thou took’st away my life,
      And more, for my friends die;
My mirth and edge was lost, a blunted knife
      Was of more use than I.
Thus thin and lean without a fence or friend,
I was blown through with ev’ry storm and wind.

Whereas my birth and spirit rather took
      The way that takes the town;
Thou didst betray me to a ling’ring book,
      And wrap me in a gown.
I was entangled in the world of strife,
Before I had the power to change my life.

Yet, for I threaten’d oft the siege to raise,
      Not simp’ring all mine age,
Thou often didst with academic praise
      Melt and dissolve my rage.
I took thy sweet’ned pill, till I came where
I could not go away, nor persevere.

Yet lest perchance I should too happy be
      In my unhappiness,
Turning my purge to food, thou throwest me
      Into more sicknesses.
Thus doth thy power cross-bias me, not making
Thine own gift good, yet me from my ways taking.

Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me
      None of my books will show;
I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree,
      For sure then I should grow
To fruit or shade: at least some bird would trust
  Her household to me, and I should be just.

Yet, though thou troublest me, I must be meek;
      In weakness must be stout;
Well, I will change the service, and go seek
      Some other master out.
Ah my dear God! though I am clean forgot,
Let me not love thee, if I love thee not.
Nat Lipstadt May 2017
~

who knows the definition of a poet?
~
for my friend, S.Y,
who I will embrace with both hands,
both eyes, when he hands me a signed copy of a book
that answers the question


weighty subjects deserve your best work,
expressions of affection and introspection,
need careful reflection, a proper set up for the
tumult inevitable when delving in the unopened recesses
where the answers kept

so, of course, the writing commences well after 1:00am,
when the darkness of night clarifies the process,
for I work by day but live by night,
when summoning up my one tool no one can take away,
the joy, the relief, the spectacular exultation  of
rearranging the aleph bet in new ways,
when the quietude of reflection transports me
across the continents in visions of what will be

I don't know if I know the answer, perhaps, any answers,
but when this man demands
the ebb tides of soul to depart,
to make him stand alone on the shore of endings,
forcing  him to acknowledge his reckonings,
lonely, only humanity and frailties

I hear a voice gruff growling and me laughing-
"cut to the chase, make your point, get out of people’s way"

so in your honor, this simp fool who asks questions
no human has any business, the answers knowing,
will one last stanza grant and give and
yours to keep,
and commence countdown waiting for that day of welcoming

from the underground comes a chorus of voices,
in one voice but many languages, chanting:


all humans are poets
who acknowledge and freely confess that the
blood and stuff, the kisses and the touches of family and friends,
parent and child,
are the ***** and the egg,
the beginning and the circulation of the never ending,
the open entrance that penetrates the berm surrounding real life,
all these are the root and the stem and the blossoming,
of poetry writ large, for they who have these in their possess,
are surely by definition certainly

humans, poets


~
5/14/17 2:05am
all poets are human,
all humans are poems
Happy Birthday Steve!
basil May 2022
you complain about how people
can hardly see the difference between your pupil and your iris,
because your eyes are so dark
but i love the way
i can see my reflection smiling after your lips turn up

you call me hot, babe, honey
i call you ******, loser, simp

you have to leave me in two months
when your future catches up to you
but i'm the one with 'goodbye' hovering on my tongue

i'm trying to make up for three months of love poems
that i couldn't bring myself to write
but i can feel my bitterness leaking through

i can’t immortalize you now that i can count the days until you leave me on one hand

and you tell me horrible things like
“i’ll wait for you” and you say terrible words like
“i promise” and i cant seem to do anything but cry and need you

consider this my goodbye
it’s the only one i can bear to give
******* for making me love u when you knew you had to leave me. i’m going to miss you so much.

i cant even blame u cuz you have this whole future calling for u. i just love u

05.25.2022
Odd Odyssey Poet Aug 2023
Falling quietly into your arms,
still the loudest echo of falling love
Swept of the ground;
as closely to my steady feet, I can't brush off feelings
Or find a reason not place volumes of my pride,
announcing who you are to me
But I often feel as a selfish sinner to say,
"you should belong to me"
And I am like a mirror in your room,
reflecting on your beauty, as the first to see it in the morning,

To be a night-gown that covers you in warmth and comfort,
a resting pillow to the dreams still twined in your hair
And you being a thought resting on my head, of a brain chair;
feeling rude to stare, as you climb into my eye's sight
of your beauty step by step, of your glorious stairs,

Despite you not seeing me, above all those others chasing,
their desires of power they wish they could own, to own you
To enthrone you; those who once sat on their own thrones,
they have polished themselves, for you to sit on top of their heads
I doubt you care; as like a child with someone else to worry
responsibly for their younger's responsibilities,

Still would you ever consider to indulge in me,
with the dews of my eyes and sheering shy smile
I do try and try, till my tired is tired of being tired,
and my spark dies out for the night- lit again by seeing
you another day, and I continue on being fired,

But in the eyes of a looker-on, I'm fried;
spared no sympathy for showing such a simp in me
In the pits of my emotions, falling deeper and deeper,
and I pray in the end that someone would pity me.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2013
The young poetess^ writes:

Sitting on the edge of brilliance,
that cuts my youthful pride to shreds,
are the verbal shards of bards,
poets, beyond my experience.

Expelling their lifeblood,
I can, but only,
place my hands upon
their open wounds
murmuring hopeful platitudes,
praying that their blood spilled,
is not their excellence drained,
their wisdom wasted and stained!


The old hoary replies:

Wishful thirsty drinkers
from the cups of youth are we.

We 'presumed' ancient bards
have lived to regret the
burden of our accumulations,
the weightiness of our pages,
owning insights, steeped,
fermented, wine-to-vinegar,
spoiled by age, time-wasted.

Our words, product of visions
grown dim and simp,
under no duress,
we-eager confess!

Better poets were we,
when possessed of
blood hotter, skin smoother,
brow clearer, innocent of fear!

Your eager cuts run
zesty red and freely,
Ours, clotted ones,
anemic, yellowed from
the curse of the boundaries
of too much experience,
purchased pricey rules,
murderers of our uninhibited courage.

You cogitate with
passions unlined, unruled.
We shuffle, bemoan
our drizzling days,
waiting for relief,
and yet, rue
our inevitable conclusion.

We curse our fate, our slow dissolution.

You bless the opportunistic rising sun,
enervated by energies unbounded,
You animate for answers, solutions!

We sit caned and quiet, acidic,
damning Solomon and his caustic words -
There is nothing new under the sun.

Perhaps we know a word or two more than you.
Gladly we'd trade that for youthful hands
that pray, point and scribe, with the eagerness
that sets words upon paper of spirits enflamed!

Time, our master, has shred our writs to pieces,
yet, you young poetess, greet the morn, confident, saying
**today I will give birth to the first of many, masterpieces.
^The Young Poetess - Helen
Nat Lipstadt May 2014
I have never been published
or won a prize,
except, yeah, yeah,
the one in the
Crackerjack box

but from that cheap plastic surprise,
much was learned even as a young boy

cull the chaff of life
from amidst the wheat

plant it well and deep,
then forget all about it,
except where,
t'was seeded

when eyes yellowed,
hair turned a color Disney repackaged as
frozen
white,
normally a gift of a hairdresser,
called mother time,
and your pink skin scaled smooth
now kin and kith of the kitchen grater,

then time is in,
cull your plantings

go back into that yards,
pull out the weeds,
uncovering what only time
can provide -

poetry planted and born from
the summary addition of thousands
of days of life,
well felt,
well received,
well recorded,
drawn from earth and water,
well lived

sometimes my nyc sidewalks uneven,
cause a toe snagging tripping,
this loss of balance,
adrenalin hot flashing,
similar to tripping upon a new poet

every time I say no mas,
I must choose tween
left or right,
one can
read or one can write,
but not
both

a voice on I stumble,
making me ever so foolish,
ever so humble,
ever so confused

so at 12:31am
at it again,
reaping what others have sowed

this woman by her own confess,
Trouble with a capital everything
T.R.O.U.B.L.E

only a grownup chile
writs me a poem
re crackers in her vegetable soup,
a naval battle akin to that of Midway,
that makes me crackers with delight!

saucy, that poetess
you better love her well,
she tells you outright
or she'll sell you, the reader out,
for the next one cruising along,
hence this poem, her good graces sought!

but to get certain memories I want,
but can't recall for I never had them,
she, for me doth record:

Imaginary space within a dream
floats in a subconscious sea.
Our affection grows from
tremulous beginnings
its dramatic unfolding
vestige of the soul whispers
and lingers in twilight and ice

Shared breath,
in time our leisured rhythms
savored sweetly match kiss for kiss.

Words in parody drop,
one by one.
enmeshing me in rippling sorrow,
once again you've moved
just beyond my reach.


curse the teachers and the genes
and my plain vanilla simp vocabulary,
that don't let me write like this,
but to my backyard I go,
where I cull what other's have planted better,
and harvest the new fruits of
crackerjack superior poets
Read Patty M,
please yourself...
Nat Lipstadt Jan 19
my questioning,
directed at myself
and the answer simp,
not necessarily simpatico,
cause the answer is either
today, or never,
could be
both or n-either

yeah,
of that age,
when I awake
first two words are
*******, again?

and
if I hurry,
one piecework,
one mo’ poem,
hurried,
may yet be
vented,
scurried,
aired out
or for
quick disposal
sad dispatch

one mo’
disgorged poem
within and withouted,
either side
of midnight

been gorging
on letters ever since
They fed me
sugared letters
& lemons
for breakfast

and the last twenty
sending them you
in a disembodied
softly softly
voice
no matter how
far your imaginary
ears are from me
Sunday AM 9:52 2/19/25
🥲
Left Foot Poet Nov 2024
today,
walked the river arcade,
by the river~side.
same,
where, & when,
a decade earlier
and a laugh ago,  
we performed
a daily differential calculus

of the distance to that line,
a watermark,
where my accidental drowning
would be insurance covered

don’t recall, if back then,
poetry writin’ was a good  
a daily companion, or-even
a mere passing acquaintance

but went to
all-in-all-alone-freedom,
found riches,
yet still pressed in rags
of remorse, mourning surely,
until & still a
woman, or
three, rated me a
good looking edible,

even
if only didn't always dress
in black, head to toes, like an
extra cool new yorker, or an
attendee at my own fun~ereal

since those days,
gallons millions, zillions
of brackish seawater has flowed
out to sea as far as
England, Philippines, New Zealand,
whichever be connected to the
rain water of Adirondack mountains
flowing past East 57th Street,

my salty tears replenished,
but time changed the causation,
from oy to joy in simp terms
that rhymes…with me and yours

water woman water woman water
makes the heart capable of weeping
tears of joy,
oh! happy drowning
how do
you cross from woman to water,
that, now I walk on a
water bridge of loving
hard, steel & liquidity of
concrete, smooth roughness
became the path to loving living
Dougie Simps Jul 2013
I am*…
A beat without a sound
A stray without a pound
A flower without the ground
A person without the noun
A girl who believes in men
A writer without a pen
A solider who's off to battle, without a country to defend
A moment without a stage
A book without a page
A innocent man who's on the run without a cop to start the chase
A verdict without a case
A puzzle without the maze
A smile of given defeat, without the sour face
Water without the vase
A crime without the trace
Blood that doesn't stain
A scar without the pain
Circus lion who isn't tamed
A man who's in the mirror...without looking the same
A color that's black and white
A blind man who can read and write
An image of your sunny day...that's an illusion of your figment night...

But wait!
I've come to an conclusion...

Im An ill mind not willing to listen, who's thoughts are reminiscing..about a past life when the good rules and his golden heart wasn't missing....even without his illusions...but I walk in a realist dream?...Is this life really...all an illusion?
-Dougie Simp #LostLoveWriter
Francie Lynch Jun 2015
I know nothing about
The semblances of affection,
Or the pretension of passion;
I only know one kind of love:
The one I can't part from,
I really cannot, I really don't not.
I suffer ultra extreme separation anxiety.
No psychotic weird stuff.
We don't want to be apart,
But we do, for years at times.
I'm not a simpering wimp,
Or a wimpering simp.
This love lasts a lifetime,
A sane lifetime.
It makes me want to live.
I'll succumb to prayer and hope,
Whatever to never have it end.
     (I do mean never)
One love shouldn't have to subscribe
To the same cruel rules as everything
     (I do mean everything)
Else.
Something serious is askew
When one love leaves and love
Lives on in the other.
Our love lived once,
But died twice.
Kagey Sage Aug 2020
Once I feel a little comfort
I'll start blabbering about my dreams in progress
She's so supportive
thinks I'm a renaissance man
for all I find important
all the albums and paintings I've planned
Young da Vinci to a T
Little she know I don't dot my eyes
So I'm just sitting there
looking at a bland pole
with blurry vision
She's too great
so my childish totem's fade
cause all I want is you babe
Streaming binges on the couch
I sense the boredom bubbling up
So I start sifting through that rolodex
of perfect dates in my head
Walking through the naval museum
I still sense things are out of step
'cause a flawless Connery impression
just fell flat
I double down
beat the dead horse
of course, of course
So we sat down on the bench
across from the U.S.S. She don't give a ****
We talk about us
and I'm hit with a brick
"You used to wanna be a rock star
write books, teach college
and travel far
What ever happened to the "Will to Power"
you never used to shut up about
You're just content to be a hobbyist simp
that talks big and likes to hold my hand
I fear I'm holding you back
You've gotten so lazy since we met"
I wipe the brick from my face
and explain that my mind
is the only chains
that stopped me from doing those things
I was never even happy with those lofty dreams
She got me outta a dark place
and I'm content with just
strumming chords on my front porch
and exploring Western New York
So long as it's with someone more gorges than Ithaca
And you'll be my Penelope
She says she doesn't deserve me
but as she stares at Lake Erie
I know she means that I'm not the man she hoped I was
I used to rap about snatching power and holding gold
while beating myself like an opus dei catholic
just for being too lazy and not doing enough
I'm sorry you made me comfortable and happy enough
to live a modest life
(Oh good tidings of comfort and joy
comfort and joy)
Now I'm alone again
and it's opening day
Wreck myself with unachievable goals
just to reel them in
Get secure and balanced 'till
they'll throw me back into the mercury waves
I'm an ancient treasure in the making
don't excavate me.
Ill, my white lies lay
along black-truth's way,
attracting the stranded
eyes of idle watchers.

Dropped so indifferent
in hands that lead up
to one man's simp'ring god,
our antique worlds meet

and shake. His wired head
sits uncomfortably
near us, and spits words
by life left unspoken.

They feed the moon full
with dwindling day, to flesh
out love and make our steps
half-brothers, again.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2015
a gift for the poet
a sky full of stars,
whose poetry, when well read,
brings, leads,
souls to their knees
satisfying with quiet desperation,
satisfying with noisy aspiration,
unto the best places poetry,
can airlift the human soul,
to a sky full of stars
~~~
so many pleasures to pick from:

the summer's first awakening taste of
comforting cold vanilla in sugar cone
upon the lips,
reading Whitman and Poe,
in my sheltered poet's nookery,
watching my woman chop
summer fruits, cranberries, berries, mango,
into the salad of our lives

but one pleasure olden,
yet evergreen new,
rare,
but never aged,
like the occasional
pink potpourri sunset of  gold bluesy hues,
this ancien accidental tourist stumbling
smack dab
into a new poet whose excellence
force~asks you to say,
while he breathes intake/expels
noisy airy,
how~wow?

I don't read the words of
this solitary kayaker,
no, I drink till drunk
on mine own tears,
angry that I'm late to the party,
once again

nine poems glorious,
this poets meagerly provides,
reminding me,
a few master treasures,
oft outweigh the many

me, a thousand and more,
yet struggling to hone
my dulled verbal skills
to take true flight,
most o'mine, suffocate stillborn
in the torrential waterfalls of
never ending misleading
gold plated
trite

nine (!)
poems only,
bring this old soul
to his worn out knees,
in humbling fresh-face humility,
he thanks the muses for
gift-granting knowledge of a
blackened velveteen night sky new poet star,
to his eyesight keening,
sad in the knowing that so many more,
shine
but remain undiscovered

this new poet

"writes a little,
just soul scribbles mostly
not wanting to be anybody special,
an evanescent dark star; season's change"

give me more,
this old man demands,
for each of the nine is a

"single delicate petal cast off,  
like a party dress fallen
in a beautiful mess
upon the puddled wooden floor"

her invitation, I accept, I accept
on bent knee eagerly to

"Come swim within this restless silence
the raging river inside beckons

the cadences we hear
are the heart's untamed waters overflowing ,
eroding this heart's shorelines ,
leaving the thrummed edges wild
swim within this restless silence
the raging river inside beckons

the cadences we hear
are the heart's untamed waters overflowing ,
eroding this heart's shorelines ,
leaving the thrummed edges wild"

as always,
I wax too simp,
too long,
while the new poet waxes
simply eloquent,
hard knocking down his old soul
to the ground
with memories
of days when with first morn blush,
two three poems,
he provided
to greet the honorable dawn,
after searching the night skies,
for new and
Undiscovered Poems

She
(for must be a woman, I just know)

"colours this heart's blank pages
rapt in the poesy a joyous ecstasy ..,
enrapture with rainbow's candy taste"
Please follow this poet, lest you miss a new star..
The lines in " and italics are all hers.
Been awhile since I wrote a Read the New Poets.
Please follow her
sab ariana Oct 2020
i don't know if its love or lust
but you make me feel something
and that's rare
emptiness drugs and depression
are all ive ever known
to be fair
time goes by
i can tell by the colors of the seasons
i still don't know who i am
but at least with you
i have a reason
Si   lent
             fig   ures
                           un   der   a   du   vet
I do not know them
                            the pic   ture is not clear e   nough
                            I simp   ly can't
i  ma   gine   the   breath
              on a   no   ther one’s skin
                             crack   le be   tween   fin   gers
and so - called sparks
                             but I would dis   cover
                             the wi   res that con   nect us
und   er   stand our net   work
              like a be   guil   ing lab   y   rinth
                             quick blink - touch   es
qui   et   ly
                            crad   le your name
                            as if it were
a snow   flake
Written: February 2015.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time.
NOTE: Many of my older poems will be deleted from HP over the next two months as I am dissatisfied with them, and I do not enjoy using HP as much.
deyrah Oct 2022
my heart's been stolen, and not in the cliche way...
i'm pretty sure that if you run forensics they'll find foot prints leaving
they'll find your finger prints at the place my heart once laid.
your eyes are so beautiful that when i first saw them...
i felt how useless mine were, that i almost couldn't open them up
let me stare at you from afar
let me wonder how it would be like, for you to like someone like me
i know you've got a ton of people lining up to get your attention
but if after all your options are exhausted
and you feel like you need something new
then, please consider me!
deyrah Feb 2022
This is the end of love...
Cause I've dabbled in infatuation...
I can tell what love is
This is not genuine, so let's play pretend.
Tell me you love me, and let me fake a smile
In my need to be loved, and crave attention, i want you to love me, like it's my last day on earth.
Kiss my freckled lips with warmth.
Touch those melanin thighs with contempt.
And even if i know you're not worth having me!
I give myself to you, since it's you i want.
I can't stand the gaze upon you.
But without your presence, I'll asphyxiate myself!
Larada Apr 2020
I love you
Even when I’m battling the powers that be
The very powers that lead me to you
And you to me
I love you
Because I’m only human after all.
Lawrence Hall Oct 2019
Reclining ****...

                        For a scribbler in that art magazine

             “…bodiless heads, green horses and violet grass,
             seaweed, shells and funguses...conventionally
             arranged in the manner of Dali.”

           -Evelyn Waugh, Put Out More Flags, pp. 31-32

Making messes is but poor huswifery
Tie-dyeing creativity into
A finger-painting school of assemblage
Asymbol’d: “Reclining **** with Pet Frog”

In praise of working people and, like, stuff -
Your comrade cleaners whom you claim to love
Could tell you what a simp you are. They won’t
Because they need their jobs, dear precious ****

So, disappear your selfies into your ‘phone -
The 1960’s are over and gone
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is: Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  THE ROAD TO MAGDALENA, PALEO-HIPPIES AT WORK AND PLAY, LADY WITH A DEAD TURTLE, DON’T FORGET YOUR SHOES AND GRAPES, COFFEE AND A DEAD ALLIGATOR TO GO, and DISPATCHES FROM THE COLONIAL OFFICE.
Dave Robertson May 2021
Green shoots,
little shocks of brilliance
from mouths so oft distracted
tis a wonder they’re not more malnourished

the courage to give an opinion
on long dead white kings of literature
who speak Christ knows what but it ain’t English
is, as they themselves may say, lit

my tired soul has read the lines so oft
I feel peppered for all this,
so finding out Romeo is now a simp,
has the hot blood stirring again
I used to think I knew what to think
Reading too many books and stuffing my opinions
Never having lived them

But then you'd meet me in my basement
And you coyly asked me how my day went
Shyly loving the attention

I'm tired of playing chump
Every time that you hook up
FOMO as God's playing favorites
From my place down in the pavement
I know that nice guys finish last
Chivalry's best left in the past
While you SIMP for all them
I'm a shmuck but a gentleman

I give you my coat
Hold you close
Provide you comfort when you're crying
Let you get drunk
Drive you home
Each time you break up with that guy again
I'd jump out the shower
Just to buy you flowers
When he forgets your birthday, he's no gentleman
You deserved better than him

Since we were 17 we were always such a team
Just like Buffy's Scoobies
or too many John Hughes movies
And over the years when we'd lose touch
I just wasn't friend enough
For both of us to keep up
With all our changing scenes

I hope you don't feel something missing
With your second husband and your children
You don't find a missing laugh
When you cant find that photograph
I was just a place and time
Best left only to my mind when you've forgotten me
The gentleman, your best friend

I'd still give you my coat
Off my back
In the middle of a snowstorm
I don't even know you now
I'd still pick you up when
your car breaks down
Deliver you safe home
From wherever you roam
I'd jump the next flight
If you call and say you need me
No matter how far we may be, I'm still your gentleman

Hug your husband, kiss your kids
You are still a piece of me and until my end
I'm your gentleman
I wish we were still friends
Some cliche about lost time
Another dumb story or bad rhyme
Insert lame joke here, my dear

Darker lines
Less and greyer hair,
Maybe I'm a little more distinguished
I got this far
Because you were there
I took too long to say I still care
I'm soaking towels every hour
to stop my burning bridges
and I am missing you
my friend
Signed, your gentleman
dread Mar 7
Still and stoic, stunned, momentarily,
for the sake of not wanting to tarry,
though her eyes are starry
I suppose I am chasing the fiery,
like a proper torture puppet,
where pleasure is purely measured by the sounds she makes,
and I,
a pain filled pie,
promising to encapsulate a well packaged bespoke mind,
tailored to her tail and devilish wings,
let my crown be one that stings, if so she esteems,

roar and drag my nails against the sheets,
across the bedroom floor and into conspiracy,
teeming in a way that they would deem, simplified and undignified,
while you dig your nails in and I dream of your teeth,
do everything and all without leaving nothing undone unto me,

my promise is not to bawl, except of joy, that I'd devolve for the sake of your destitute ball. Trampling and fancying my fencing fall,
hearing me enamored through the halls, because I am what she esteems, and nothing is as it seems, unless she sees it fit,
and I throw her a romantic fit.

Go on, capture yourself capturing me, witness how it is that a rose falls, into a flower garden with no mystery to solve, for the only way is up, and the field is filled and sunlit. Might you say there's nothing to wit, just decadence to not be absolved but played with.

Your fire, I acquit.
Still Crazy Jun 14
"I write for the ordinary souls
who can't always sort out the
meaning in all the metaphors and analogies
that grace more sophisticated formats.

Indeed,
together we have
struggled over
the potholes of existence
and in my case,
heath,
but it's nice to not be alone
on the weighing
to the way

I do welcome your company.
I try not to complain
and be down,
but it's a struggle I often lose.
You can call me on it,"

by
Anonymous
<>
R*esponse:

a kith & kindred soul,
to I,
as well,
*who
too,
whose
soul is still
crazy after all these years

our pathos paths cross
but lit~er~
ally
but
we are
allied as well

simple *simpatico
and
words interestingly
suffice
when
suffering
is cognizant
and the parallelism
is truly
literal,

anon!

(You!
can call me in it)
indeed!
Anon
n internet slang, "anon" is a shortened version of "anonymous". It's commonly used to describe someone who is not publicly identified or who is posting

Anon

Old English on ān ‘into one’, on āne ‘in one’. The original sense was ‘in or into one state, course, etc.’, which developed into the temporal sense ‘at once’.
TreadingWater Jun 2017
i'm ch _ o _ ck  _ ing
^On ^It
the glass
lodged. in. my. chest.
you / need / some
' '' '''  time
you're not | ready |
For.
This.
yetmydarlingdearestlove
>ask >ing
this to
#stop
is like [[holding onto]] eels;
& trying to find brakes
is like trying ~to ~chew  ~steel;
& i know you mean
the best sweetheart
& i-know-that-time
₩ill  tell
but the be(   space   )tween
the }now{  & then
    is
simp    ly
£iving
h€ll
Dani
Hamed M Dehongi Jun 2019
Drawing a real scene is hard
Remove details keep it simple
Scientific rules are complex
Reduce unknowns turn it simple
Life on earth is getting tougher
Forget excess, be more simple
Human relations are involved
You do better, being more simple
Express your thoughts effectively
Avoid wordiness it’s better simple
You have to work hard to achieve
What you needn’t if you were simp
ZACK GRAM Mar 2019
I WANT TO DIE SO MUCH, TOUCH LUCK IM STILL BREATHING, WISH I WASNT!!! WAS LIKE NO SHE HADN'T, WHAT'S THE MATTER? WILL I EVER FEEL BETTER? KICK THE BUCKET WITH A LETTER NEXT TO MY BED. EYES WIDE OPEN WITH ***** WRITTEN ON MY FORE-HEAD, KNOWING I WAS BETTER OFF! TRUE STORY ABOUT A WASTED LIFE-LIVING A LIFE THAT WAS A BIG WASTE, SO MANY YEARS GONE AND PASSED, STILL FEEL STUCK IN THE PAST, CANNOT GET IT TOGETHER, WILL I EVER BE A WINNER INSTEAD OF BEING A LOSER? DEATH HAUNTS ME AND IT HURT'S SO BAD, IM GOING MADD, MY MIND IS GONE, FAR FROM HAPPY I AM SAD, SO BE GLAD, MY LIFES OVER, FORGET THE FUTURE, PRESENT AND PAST, IM IN LAST, ON BLAST, HELD IN A FULL BODY CAST, LOST SOME DEEDFUL CASH, KNOWN HOW TO MASH, BUT AM AFRAID TO GOTO MASS, I WONDER WHEN I DIE WILL I GOTO HEAVEN, OR WILL I END UP IN HELL, LINED UP WITH DEMONS I SEE THEM ALREADY AN FEEL GHOSTS, I WANT TO GO HOME, LORD TAKE ME AWAY, TIRED OF BEING ALONE, BORED AND ZONED, IVE GOTTEN ******, SILLY FACT IS I LIVE 4 DEATH, THE DAY I SEEN THAT MAN DIE IS THE DAY I SEEKED REVENGE, IN THE END, I WILL SHINE OR RIDE HIGH, MAYBE OFF MYSELF, GOD KNOWS, WANTING TO DIE, WONDERING WHY I AM ALIVE, EASY AS PIE, BLAST MY HEAD OFF, ONEDAY YOU WILL SEE ME, OH BABY I CANT LIVE LIKE THIS, MY LIFE IS RUINED, SO I ASK MYSELF WHY? WHY MUST I LIVE MY LIFE WHEN IM ALWAYS SICK AN TIRED, ALWAYS LONELY, ALONE ALL NIGHTS, ITS NOT RIGHT, LORD F MY POSITION, CAN I NOT JUST DIE, I CANT BREATHE ANOTHER BREATH WHEN MY WORDS GO UN-SPOKEN, MY HEART MIGHT EXPLODE, EXPOSED, WHEN WILL MY HURTS AN LOSSES GO, HOW MORE MANY DAYS ON MY OWN, UNTIL THEN, OUR PHONE WILL NEVER EXIST, FEELING LIKE A SIMP, WISH I FELT GROWN, LET 1 THING BE KNOWN, DEATH WILL CONSUME, ITS DEPRESSING, FULL OF WASTE, LEFT FOR DEAD IN A DITCH, THINGS FELL INTO PIECES, AFTER BEING DRAGGED CHAINED TO A TRAILOR HITCH, WELL WINCH, ILL GO FIRST, NO WORRIES IT WILL NEVER STOP HURTING, ITS THE WORST, MORE PAINFUL THEN BIRTH, I HATE THE EARTH, SO I GIVE IT ALL IM WORTH, IN THE END LOVE DOESNT WORK, SO MARK MY WORDS, HEAD TO HEELS, NO REASON EVER SENUATION KING OF AN UNDERGROUND, ITS WHERE I MAKE YOU LAY, YOUR LAST DAY, OUR LAST WORDS, FRESH FLOWERS ON YOUR GRAVE, YOU PAVED THE WAY BUT TODAY WE WILL SEE, FROM HEAVEN TO THE DEEPEST DEPTHS OF THE UNIVERSE, THE WRONG SEASON SHADOWED IN DARKNESS SUCOMMING THE LOVE AROUND ME, SO HARD TO SURVIVE WITHOUT YOU, MY WIFE OR THE ONE WHO CARES, AKA ME AND MINE, THE LAST SECOND MAKING IT TO THE FINISH, I WANT YOU LADY HAVE MY BABY, IM GOING CRAZY, SPEECHLESS BUT READ MY LIPS, LET ME GO ON LIVING, CORPORATE ISSUES, ILL OFFER YOU, THIS KEYBOARD GIVING A CODE LIKE THESE PAST 5 GRAPHS, ILL TEACH YOU BASIC MATH, YOU CANT EVEN THINK, GIVE YOU WOMAN, GIVE YOU A WHIRL, A TWIRL, A SWIRL, ALL AROUND THE GLOBE, THE AK SMOKE HIT WITH A BANG, GONE THRU THE ROOF, ACE COOPSWOOP, THE LATEST NEWS, MY LIVE BLOG, CALL CNN A BADASS IS IN THE BUILDING, SHIPS AND SQUADRANTS, IM SO POWERFUL, COROSPONDENCE CONSULTING, TALKING BIG GUNS, WATCH THE BUSH, WORK FOR ME OR LOSE PLACEMENT, YOUR GREED IS TROUBLING YOUR MONEY SITUATION, MAKING PAPER BILLS FAKE, I AM A PATRIOT, SO ICY FREEZING THE GREAT LAKES, TAKING ON PIKES PEAK, FREE IN THE COLUMBIAN STREETS, DROP A BIZZLE, LIKE 80'S CUBA, DONT SAY MY NAME TWICE, I HAVE ALL THE SUPPLIES, I WILL ABIDE, YOU WILL ATTEST, THE BEST, SPEAKING FOR THE REST, A PUBLIC ANNOUNCMENT AND FAIR WARNING, LISTEN OR GO MISSING, AMW, BUILDING SKY-SKRAPERS, MINING FOR PRECIOUS ORE, BURIED, LISTEN WITH NO AMOUNT, IM WILLING IM GOING TO WE ARE GOING TO, IM WILLING WERE STUNTING, LETS HAVE IT, GIVE YOU THE BIDDINGS, THE FUNDAMENTALS, PIVOT, PACK AND SHIP, NATIONAL CHAMPION TURNED INTERNATIONAL AWARD WINNER, OUT IN THE VALLEY WOMEN BADDER THEN HALLEY, VOICE LIKE CAREY, BABY WHAT YOU WANT ILL MAKE YOU A TRILLIONAIRE, HOLD STOCKS RUN SHARES WHO CARES, SKIN BARE, THAT FINE BODY PREPPED HAIR WITH A FLASH OF GLAMOUR AN TOUCH OF GLARE, BODY WORKING, TWIRLING, I WANT, TAKE A SEAT, ALL ACROSS ALL THE LANDS, IF YOU UNHEALTHY I MIGHT HURL SO GIRL GO ON SOMEWHERE OTHERWISE, PEARL, DIAMOND, YOURE MY LOVE, OUR FORCE, NEED/WANNA MAN LIKE ME IN YOUR LIFE, COME OVER HERE I WILL DO YOU RIGHT, BODYING YOU TONIGHT, WORKING THAT TIGHT, POLITE, **** SIDE, SO BE MINE, I GOT THAT NINE, PROTECT THE LIME LIGHT, WANNA REAL G LEMME TELL YOU HOW IT IS, ALRIGHT? TRUST ME, MY FUTURE WIFE, HEART BEAT CONNECTED TO A HEART BEAT WHAT A NICE FEATURE, YOURE SOAKED, ALL THAT WATER PUT IT IN THE AIR, AYE MILLI THIS A BILLI, ONLY GONNA SAY IT ONCE, IM ALREADY GONE AND MIGHT BE DONE, SO POP IT, ANYONE ASKS YOURE MINE, MY DIME, HANDS TOGETHER, A 1 NIGHT STAND TRANSFORMED INTO A LIFE LONG RELATIONSHIP, WE MAKE LOVE, GOT ME BEGGING DONT GO, THIS THE G WITH THE SECRET TRADE, GOT PICTURES OF YOU HAND ME THE ROPE, BETTER BELIVE, FOUR-FOUR, WOOD WHEEL SWERVING, BIG RIMS SPINNING, PAINT GLISTENING, BASS BUMPING, RIDING *****, MY NAMES NOT OUT, MY NAMES ON TOP, REPPING THA NAWF, A DEATH NOTE TO END RAP IN ONE DAY, BIGGER RANK, HIP-HOPS DEAD, LAYING IN YOUR BED 2 SHOTS 2 THE HEAD, 6 FEET AN STILL SINKING, GOT SLAUGHTER? NO COST, COOKING WHAT YOU WONT, LIKE MY FIRST VERSE, SO MUCH WORK, GATHERING ALL THE FISH IN THE SEA, BUYING BANKS, END YA, TRILL YA, PAY YA, EVEN MAIL YA, THATS WHY I CALL YOU TRICK, BIG BUSINESS I GOT A EXOTIC MOUTH, SPEAKING THE TRUTH, WOMAN I GOT SKILLS, IF MY DOUGHS YOUR DOUGH, TALKING OFF WITH THAT DRESS, GET RID THEM HEELS, DONT BE FAKE WITH A FAKE *** NAME, NICE LIPS, MAKING ME SHOUT, NO LOSS, CATCHING YOU SLIPPING, OFF WITH THEIR HEADS, GET OUTTA MY BED, HALF IS MINE, HALF IS YOUR'S, GIVE ME MY  NATIONWIDE TOURS, WHEN I SAY GOODMORNING BABY MOMMA, GOT YOU TO STOP CRYING SO DONT WORRY, I AM SORRY, THEY DONT STOP DROPPING, BABY BABY DONT FORGET, YOURE ANGELIC, THIS LOVES WAR, YOUR LIGHT GUIDES ME THROUGH THIS DARKNESS, IM DONE APOLOGIZING, SO RISE, RISE AN SHINE BRIGHT, A WOMAN WITH YOU WILL HAVE NO DRAMA, IM SO EXCITED, I CANT THINK, I MIGHT HAVE A HEART ATTACK, JUST 1 DAY, HOW THE HELL DID YOU THINK ILL HANDLE BABY MOMMA DRAMA? I ASK THE LORD, IS IT ME OR THE OTHER BROTHERS DOWN THE STREET? ANOTHER DAY AWAY, I JUST CANT, IN A CASKET IS THE ONLY WAY, NOTHING WILL TURN MY SITUATION IN A DIFFERENT DIRECTION,THIS DEMOND I SEE IS ATTACKING MY LOGIC, I LOVE YOU, MARRIAGE BABY IN A CARRIAGE THINKING ABOUT US AS ONE BURIED, NEXT TO ME THIS IS AMAZING, COULDNT BE MORE HAPPY, THE HURT IS REAL, THE DISTRESS IS A SACRIFICE ITSELF, I CANT EAT I CANT THINK, THIS LOVE IS KILLING ME, I DO BELIEVE I WILL NEVER CHEAT OR ESCAPE, OR EVEN IMAGINE THINGS GETTING WORSE, REALIZING NOW THIS A WRITTEN 24 HOUR MOVIE, LEGAL SMOKE, SCRAP UNDER THE TABLE, WISH YOU DIDNT HAVE TOO, BUT NEVER BE LIKE ME EVER, LOW-KEY VERY IMPORTANT INDIVIDUAL, CANT BE STOPPED MUST BE BAUGHT, DONT STOP, MAC PLAYA ****, BEATS ON A LIST, SO BACK-UP, WARRANTS FROM ATTITUDE, GOING TO STAY PAYED, LET THE BEAT DROP, LIKE A DON, A AMBASSADOR, A KING, OR A GOD, LETHAL ASSASIN, MAKING A KILLING, WORSE VILLIAN, MOST POWERFUL HERO, MOST DISCRIMATED LIVING, LIFE OF A TRILLIONAIRE, CANT HANDLE ME, DONT GET SHOT, I DONT CARE WHAT YOURE WORTH, YOU AINT WORTH THE ***, YOURE SO FAR BEHIND GET YOUR *** STARTED, TRY AND CATCH UP IM SO FAR AHEAD I PAVED THE WAY, NOT ONE PERSON TILL THIS VERY MINUTE CAN COMPETE, SO GET OUT OF MY PATH, GO DIG YOUR SHALLOW BURIAL SPOT, SLAVE, SOON TO BE ENCASTED IN YOURE OWN ****, SO CLEAN UP THIS ACT, EXPLAINING MY SITUATION, LET IT BE KNOWN, POSESSION IS LUCIFER, FROM CONCRETE PRINTS FATHER CALLED DON, ENDING WORLD DOUBT, I AM ALIVE, WITH THIS I NEVER DIE, SECRET SOCIETY SPEAKS FROM MY SOUL, THE FORCE OF FREIGHT TRAINS WANNA PLAY GAMES, 1 GALLON A MILE FOR WEIGHT, TOP TO BOTTOM FILLED MAKING YOU FAKE, MY PEOPLE'S LOCKED, TONS OF KEYS TO CITIES, PULL ANY CHICK, PULL ONE, PULL TWO, PULL THREE OR FOUR, NOT SCARED ONE BIT, GET IN A LICK, LIKE SLICK RICK, SLICK RICHS BROUGHT BACK ZACKS FIFTH WAR, THE REAL STARS AN STRAPS, GUN TO MY DOME, GIVE UP BEFORE YOU TRY AN THE TRIGGER FINGERS NOT MINE, I PUT ON AN SHOUT OUT I GOT BIZZLES, LONGEVITY OUTTA UPTOWN ATTRACTING ANYONE FROM ANY COUNTRY, DEAD FROM SICKNESS OR IN PAIN HELLS WITNESS, I PRAY SOME VOODOO RIGHT NOW, TO RISE THE FORESAKEN, WITH THIS HEX BRING OUT THE DEVIL.........
Z-PAC
Joanne Sep 2024
Hopeless romantic is what I would call myself
Hopelessly falling in love
Hopelessly giving my heart away
Hopelessly giving you my all
Hopelessly a simp
Now I’m hopeless
Hopeless of the idea of romance
Hopeless of the idea of the one
Hopeless of the idea of not being lonely
Hopeless of the idea of falling in love
I hate it
I’m hopeless
What’s left in romance
What’s left in love
Pain
Sorrows
Endings
That’s love
An endless cycle of pain and hopelessness
Leaving you high and dry
Oh love
Why do you have to be so cruel
Why do you have to leave me in pieces
Leave me clueless
Leave me uncertain and broken
Leave me hopeless
Hopeless that I will find you again
Hopeless that I could fine someone to be romantic
So I guess I’m finally a hopeless romantic
It’s hopeless. Romance
Classy J Dec 2022
Expressive as onomatopoeia,
Come in with that boom, bang, clash.
That assalamualakum ****.
A dismissive villain with mad ideas,
Make these bad divas act up like Madea.
Rebel and find out *****!
When I lay this piece upon ya sis!
Nobody ruthless as this!
So dark and faceless, ya would think…
I was made in the abyss.
Made something out nothing,
Big bang up in this!
I sustain, pull the clip.
Like Rick James, I’m the ****!
Cold blooded, **** the simp.
Yes I made it, I admit!

Coked out chollos,
Cringe when I hear em say yolo,
Sirens ring out,
Uh oh here come the popo,
The supposed superheroes,
That is till they be tempted by dinero,
Eating out the hands of monsters,
Whose the real bad guy? Al Pacino.
Want protection pay the mobsters.
Wondering the difference between that and our tax dollars?
Don’t kid yourself brother!
Politicians are the real Godfathers!
Where God is replaced by the almighty dollar.
That could turn a scholar,
To a Rottweiler.
A sharped dressed deviant that wears a white collar,
But instead of being arrested they are honoured.
Left feeling sick to my stomach,
Watching this union between cops and robbers.

Living in a reality where dark knights get annihilated.
Matched the profile,
So, better prepare to be violated!
Don’t matter if all your life you’ve been docile.
That **** don’t matter when it comes to hatred!
Where tragedies like the green mile,
Happen every other day!
Justice is dead,
If it ever really lived in the first place!
Joanne Sep 2024
Hopeless romantic is what I would call myself
Hopelessly falling in love
Hopelessly giving my heart away
Hopelessly giving you my all
Hopelessly a simp
Now I’m hopeless
Hopeless of the idea of romance
Hopeless of the idea of the one
Hopeless of the idea of not being lonely
Hopeless of the idea of falling in love
I hate it
I’m hopeless
What’s left in romance
What’s left in love
Pain
Sorrows
Endings
That’s love
An endless cycle of pain and hopelessness
Leaving you high and dry
Oh love
Why do you have to be so cruel
Why do you have to leave me in pieces
Leave me clueless
Leave me uncertain and broken
Leave me hopeless
Hopeless that I will find you again
Hopeless that I could fine someone to be romantic
So I guess I’m finally a hopeless romantic
It’s hopeless. Romance

— The End —