poMotion poetry

With Fuzzy Balls

with 2 comments

“Remember when we fucked?”
asked the clown
as she spat in my face.
tongue-tied and stumbling backwards
I unzipped my pants to reveal
nothing

she just stared blankly
wiped the clown make-up from her face and laughed
“only in America” she quoted
while undressing layer by layer
until all that was left was
a shadow and shoes
high-heeled shoes, pink
with fuzzy balls

By Brian Feist

Written by lickmypoetry

July 31, 2012 at 7:42 pm

Posted in poem, poetry, Random

Tagged with , , , , ,

A Day

leave a comment »

“You know the way you smell in the morning? That’s how I feel.”
The man was saying into his cell phone as he dug in his pocket for a quarter.
Producing two shiny prizes he put them in the machine and pulled the handle, then with out removing the phone from his ear (using his elbow to hold the spring-loaded door down) he pulled out a newspaper.
“No, no I don’t need any of that,” he continued to someone, somewhere else.
Opening the paper in a flourish he eyes darted back and forth across the page,
“Here it is,” he suddenly blurts out, and almost drops the phone.

by Brian Feist

Written by lickmypoetry

July 15, 2012 at 10:06 am

Posted in poem, poetry, Random

Tagged with , , ,

In A Motel in Hayward, California

leave a comment »

What is the point of pain
if it doesn’t teach one how to live
What is the point of emotion
if it doesn’t teach you about yourself
the only point of losing is to learn how to win
fucking, sucking, smoking, joking
are all games to learn about the value of love
the importance of those around you

We hate only to learn the value of distance
the pain of faith and belief
God foresaketh thee to a wilderness of empathy

Everything is battle
a game of winners and losers
wandering through the field unequipped, untrained, and unprepared

By Brian Feist

Written by lickmypoetry

July 15, 2012 at 9:56 am

Posted in poem, poetry, Random

Tagged with , , ,

Politics

leave a comment »

by A. Little-Greenman

Politics is not
ohh who’s going to win the election?

Politics is the action of deciding how best to use resources

The people who have “earned” the distinction to be the ones who make the big decions, call themselves:
Politicians

But that is only because they have no real job. They are not electricians, or plumbers.
And yet electricians and plumbers also have to decide how best to use resources. So they too are politicians.
Why do they call themselves,
Journalists or Firefighters or Professors?
Because they have real jobs.

Forget about politicians and focus on politics

 

Written by lickmypoetry

February 11, 2012 at 8:37 am

Posted in poem, poetry, Random, submission

Tagged with , , ,

Pot is such a wonderful drug. -The poem

with one comment

by A. Little-Greenman

 

Pot is such a wonderful drug, that one can stop using and actually lose weight.

That never demands anything of you. Way too hard to write this while stoned. Don’t print that.

Beauty, beauty, beauty, ha ha ha ha,,
Very long green stems of bliss that force themselves to flower out yellows and reds
even blues and purples

How can you go wrong with a purple flower of spongy moistness?

And fire
don’t get me started on fire.
The red glow and the heat and the movement, and the …
oops there I go off,
but then you bring the two
together

they consume each other, the fire goes into the flower and the flower pulls the fire to it with each breath.
The fire dances while you exhale then leaps back to action at the moment of suck

suck suck blow
is there a carb on this

cough cough
ha ha, beauty, beauty, beauty!

Then to not have the fire dance, or the flower is only
Meh

not vomiting in dirty closets, or sweating in dirty clothes. Or aching, just

Meh
ha, beauty, ha! beauty, beauty

almost forgot the best thing about pot…
ahhhh
crap I forgot, again

Written by lickmypoetry

February 11, 2012 at 8:35 am

Ode to the beautiful

with 2 comments

thank you God, or Shiva
for uniting and creating

than you Kali
for destroying

thank you mom
for teaching

thank you friends
for comfort

thank you
for the dance, the game, the adventure, the bouncing tigers, the hidden dragons, the falling leaves, the growing flowers, the flying insects, the confused pets, the missing links, the ugly, the misshaped, the intervals of pain and pleasure, the fact that there are no facts, the first the last the middle in no particular order.

Thank you Beauty
for you are

and for that I admire you

Written by lickmypoetry

May 20, 2011 at 2:33 pm

Posted in poem, poetry, Random

Tagged with , , , , ,

Prophecy

with 4 comments

“I don’t really know,” he said, his hands covered in blood, “h-how this happened.”
He could remember the screams and the cold rush of adrenaline climbing up his spine.
The face on the floor was contorted in such a way it seemed to be saying, “Ahh”
It had an almost angelic glow. The blood was sprawling out on the floor making wings for the departed soul.
“It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” he kept repeating in an awkward whisper.
He thought back to the chow mein he had earlier.
The cookie with its poigently phrased fortune:
“You will change someone’s life today.”

Written by lickmypoetry

May 4, 2011 at 1:57 pm

Posted in poem, poetry

Tagged with , , ,

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 25 other followers

%d bloggers like this: