Said you’re all out of singles
I said try double-dipping
And you reached for a line
But hands were Freudian slipping
I tried playing it smart
But the dumbbells were wringing
With the wait of the time
Because my pendulum’s swinging
On your side for a second
In your way just to change it
Now I’m force to be reckoned
With a chemical agent
Sure you’ve seen and you’ve conquered
But now you’re dis-oriented
You hardly knew what was coming
But you softly relented
If we’re a joke where’s the punch
Line of kool-aide to inspire
These shits and gigs leave a byte
Like ha ha B B gun fire
You said we’re breaking rules
But we say we’re breaking rulers
That say we’ll never measure up
As if our Queen size weren’t enough
And if you catch a splinter
Best of wishes from yours truly
But we’re out of line
The line’s been cut
It’s time we got unruly
And sometimes time flies
like a hummingbird
beating like mad
just to hover in place
and time fleas
Yes time flies—
like the sugar in its blood
til it’s drained to vacant saltiness
You were my rock, in that I felt you poking around between my toes longer than I could ignore, so I had to take you out.
You were my rock that I kept kicking down the road, until I got bored.
You were my rock, in that I was silly enough to think I could just paint a smiling face on you and call you my pet.
You were my rock, and I wanted a collection.
You were my rock, in that I looked at you and saw the work of art you would be once I chipped away the extra parts.
You were my rock, but I wasn’t much of a sculptor.
He said: you’re hard to read
I said: not if you know your Phonics.
He said: you’re not on my form
I said: stick to your Platonics.
He said: I know what you like
I said: what a pleasant Outing.
He said: well that’s a first
I said: no you just started counting.
Posted in poetry, Uncategorized |
Tagged ambiguity, bad poetry, clapbacks, creative writing, dialogues, hard to read, phonics, poetry, puns, qtpoc, wordplay |
I’m just here to kill time, I say,
So just kill time with me.
Help me strangle it before it strangles us.
We need to stop its ticking pulse,
So we can play off the beat.
There were futures, but I said kill time with me now.
We’ll twist up its forward and back.
It won’t be easy, but when we’ve made it,
We’ll feel its grip grow limp, its gaze grow vacant,
Its march stumble to stop in the path.
I wanna kill time with you,
And bury it deep in the sand.
They might dig up the fossils one day, I guess,
And think up who did it, they’ll know, more or less,
But we’ve got timeless space ’til then.
So why not murder time together?
Posted in poetry |
Tagged creative writing, futures, growing up, kill time, killing time, linear time, love, murder, poetry, puns, time, timelessness |