Submissions by M-E_Ninny-L (michael edward lanier)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I'm not an intellectual, I don't like notions of superiority. Just an artist who tries to keep things simple, I have to call myself a complex minimalist in today's inpatient world.
ANGER POEM
Published
19th Sep 2015 3:48pm
19th Sep 2015 3:48pm
Why Ask Normal?
your mamma said
add a longer handle
that's an invention
more new for you to choose
awe shuck some corn
future? time
there's your new
PROBLEM
reach a little further youth
cause hale mortality
when the corn shucks you
OH! damn baby
mama was right
so I'll throw
a robe
as it goes long
real long
I'll throw it your overcoat
whilst I chuck, shuck, and buck
ten lookiloos away
I'll shed you a tear
for a parachute
stomp on your ocean
say your death's
"nothing new"
drag the paralysis
...
add a longer handle
that's an invention
more new for you to choose
awe shuck some corn
future? time
there's your new
PROBLEM
reach a little further youth
cause hale mortality
when the corn shucks you
OH! damn baby
mama was right
so I'll throw
a robe
as it goes long
real long
I'll throw it your overcoat
whilst I chuck, shuck, and buck
ten lookiloos away
I'll shed you a tear
for a parachute
stomp on your ocean
say your death's
"nothing new"
drag the paralysis
...
641 reads
1 Comment
ANGER POEM
Published
16th Sep 2015 10:28pm
16th Sep 2015 10:28pm
Harshness for Harshwords & 4 Stomps Away from A Yardbird's Drowning in that Sky's View 'Cause o' the Moonroof
I Ain't Just Gonna Bark
I Ain't Just Gonna Barf
All Is Not
that junkyard dog that I have been
called out to be mean as a mother
When That Killer's fuhgastata drops
Is all YOU saw that last Straw?
Was I really the bad guy?
I'm pretty sure I stopped the fried head of a pigeon
from RUINnin'
at least one dog's hot footed chicken
some birds are for fryin'
some birds are for flyin'
Why YOU gotta crank the heat so high
'round that one yardbird's dancin' rite
Could YOU let this baby come out the trash...
I Ain't Just Gonna Barf
All Is Not
that junkyard dog that I have been
called out to be mean as a mother
When That Killer's fuhgastata drops
Is all YOU saw that last Straw?
Was I really the bad guy?
I'm pretty sure I stopped the fried head of a pigeon
from RUINnin'
at least one dog's hot footed chicken
some birds are for fryin'
some birds are for flyin'
Why YOU gotta crank the heat so high
'round that one yardbird's dancin' rite
Could YOU let this baby come out the trash...
661 reads
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Apr 2014 10:09pm
5th Apr 2014 10:09pm
Boardwalks
City skirts
Stained with fruity vomit
Differently wearing day to night
Every chunk a scene of not owning what
Is what the thing that's letting go
There is no holding on
For man is not as flammable as a canvas
More fickle than a pen
From plank to plank
Ever the growing whitewashed stains
A midst the growth of dying
So we stroll and sit and laugh and cry
Throw change into the breeze
The temperature can come to a blaze
Held into no handout toward a bank's thirst
The birds don't give a damn about our human metals
Flesh torn for...
Stained with fruity vomit
Differently wearing day to night
Every chunk a scene of not owning what
Is what the thing that's letting go
There is no holding on
For man is not as flammable as a canvas
More fickle than a pen
From plank to plank
Ever the growing whitewashed stains
A midst the growth of dying
So we stroll and sit and laugh and cry
Throw change into the breeze
The temperature can come to a blaze
Held into no handout toward a bank's thirst
The birds don't give a damn about our human metals
Flesh torn for...
599 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
5th Apr 2014 9:27pm
5th Apr 2014 9:27pm
Retreat
I've never failed at holding tears with
the face of a clown
Dancing for quarters without my face worn
sends distress pouring out
Could I go back into the wild
blade held within a crouch
Should I run away once again
for solice of not knowing how
Would I survive more than having no more
another time minimally
There's always jokes and flowers
...
the face of a clown
Dancing for quarters without my face worn
sends distress pouring out
Could I go back into the wild
blade held within a crouch
Should I run away once again
for solice of not knowing how
Would I survive more than having no more
another time minimally
There's always jokes and flowers
...
699 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Mar 2014 5:51pm
10th Mar 2014 5:51pm
It's Not Funny to Have It All With Nothing to Give
there's so many big Its in the world
twirling music boxes
passion without attachment
flags held for sex and then unfurled
bebop
uneven stanzas
four four time
dotted lines
off kilter burners with pots holding the movement of growing deliciousness inside
many ends can be thought as yours
more connections than can be ignored
microscopic fairy tales aren't just that
as brilliance finally sparks for science's stance
the eyes of suggestion don't just judge
life is worse with rotting fudge
with all the ways...
twirling music boxes
passion without attachment
flags held for sex and then unfurled
bebop
uneven stanzas
four four time
dotted lines
off kilter burners with pots holding the movement of growing deliciousness inside
many ends can be thought as yours
more connections than can be ignored
microscopic fairy tales aren't just that
as brilliance finally sparks for science's stance
the eyes of suggestion don't just judge
life is worse with rotting fudge
with all the ways...
563 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
10th Mar 2014 4:46pm
10th Mar 2014 4:46pm
Being Faceless
not just as a clown
funny fun poking
for big bad baby Mr White Wash's
more than million picture lesson
holding no name
more than cartwheeling little flowers and
jokes with ears on end in high risk art
the tumbling artist slips on nothing
squealing with a faint
"I've racked the noodles in by bean bags, and have balloons for brains."
poem by: m.e.l. (painting entitled Death's Clown is More than a Pie in the Face)
funny fun poking
for big bad baby Mr White Wash's
more than million picture lesson
holding no name
more than cartwheeling little flowers and
jokes with ears on end in high risk art
the tumbling artist slips on nothing
squealing with a faint
"I've racked the noodles in by bean bags, and have balloons for brains."
poem by: m.e.l. (painting entitled Death's Clown is More than a Pie in the Face)
580 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
17th Feb 2014 12:32pm
17th Feb 2014 12:32pm
the breeze
helping others who've had a raw deal
with breeze of some kind
tact
takes social sublimation in
relation
breathe in the commonalities
for we are all
all all all so much
alike
what is in
my hand out
may be no
meaning no
I've got to go
nasty
people get away
I've been at peace
in battle
though not needed
for a new day
once again I say
one love
global family
with the
breeze there
can be
peace
poem by: m.e.l.
with breeze of some kind
tact
takes social sublimation in
relation
breathe in the commonalities
for we are all
all all all so much
alike
what is in
my hand out
may be no
meaning no
I've got to go
nasty
people get away
I've been at peace
in battle
though not needed
for a new day
once again I say
one love
global family
with the
breeze there
can be
peace
poem by: m.e.l.
504 reads
1 Comment
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
17th Feb 2014 11:50am
17th Feb 2014 11:50am
Forever All New
The story keeps changing every day,
there's ever coming chances for peace.
With a such thing as causality in reality,
the world sees endless revelations within individual existences becoming undone.
While we find the parables of our own lives,
we are illuminated further in the knowledge of who one was going to be.
Getting over the turmoil of loss causes the growth of strength.
work in progress by: m.e.l.
there's ever coming chances for peace.
With a such thing as causality in reality,
the world sees endless revelations within individual existences becoming undone.
While we find the parables of our own lives,
we are illuminated further in the knowledge of who one was going to be.
Getting over the turmoil of loss causes the growth of strength.
work in progress by: m.e.l.
877 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Feb 2014 1:37am
16th Feb 2014 1:37am
So Many Taken
I've taken so many lives
since before the start of this war
I've been a killer since I was hardly a child
born as to be a run away
many times around the block not mild
a defensive fighter who never wanted to kill
shots to the gut
cause pain for no thrill
to hell with the titles and clarifications
I'm living through a world war
I love my country and hate the half cookie Nazi nation
squats on squats from squatted out hatred
Webster's should apologize for the heathens with gods
changing negative rule to be universal
grows future...
since before the start of this war
I've been a killer since I was hardly a child
born as to be a run away
many times around the block not mild
a defensive fighter who never wanted to kill
shots to the gut
cause pain for no thrill
to hell with the titles and clarifications
I'm living through a world war
I love my country and hate the half cookie Nazi nation
squats on squats from squatted out hatred
Webster's should apologize for the heathens with gods
changing negative rule to be universal
grows future...
622 reads
0 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
20th Jan 2014 10:21am
20th Jan 2014 10:21am
Tip Towin Through the Mall
I was tip towin through the mall,
yeah that's right (tip towin through the mall)
with my back arched back, and my shoulders way way back back.
Kickin legs up high in the front, then ever so soft down,
heals down never kickin back. Silent this time
tip towin through the mall...
...but oh yes my hands were in my pockets,
and when this lady asked me "What's your name?"
I said "Window Shopper"
yet everyone was still peepin in on my funkidiness,
and all babies baby were just takin that galactic soul ride
through the what the what...
yeah that's right (tip towin through the mall)
with my back arched back, and my shoulders way way back back.
Kickin legs up high in the front, then ever so soft down,
heals down never kickin back. Silent this time
tip towin through the mall...
...but oh yes my hands were in my pockets,
and when this lady asked me "What's your name?"
I said "Window Shopper"
yet everyone was still peepin in on my funkidiness,
and all babies baby were just takin that galactic soul ride
through the what the what...
632 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by M-E_Ninny-L (michael edward lanier)
