Log in

No account? Create an account
SPINOnline Poetry Folder, SUCKAS!'s Journal
[Most Recent Entries] [Calendar View] [Friends]

Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in SPINOnline Poetry Folder, SUCKAS!'s LiveJournal:

[ << Previous 20 ]
Sunday, October 14th, 2007
12:47 am
From Russia with love...

Место на земле/Place on Earth

To day I tried to shoot my cock
A pistols was loaded & locked
And then I listened a slightly squeeze
I saw the faces screamed kids.

To day I tried to trim my dick
And will become a natural freak,
But girlies licked big ice-cream
I ran away her breathing stream.

To day I tried to cut my glands,
It was a hard my little friends,
I found only rusted knife
Because that I still alive.

To day I tried to squash my head
Thom sang about on radio set
I rose a volume and will see
“The city sunset over me”

To day I tried to kill my self
I ask my baby about help
She bent and I’ll in inside
Her cherry lips, her legs, oh my!...

Sunday, September 10th, 2006
6:50 pm
my first poem
by me

i belong to a time when life was about more

than the meaningless blink of an eye

A time

that's never been
and never will be


those living

are already dead.

A man of the same time once said

"there are worse things than being alone"

and now i know

we both know

do YOU??
Sunday, September 3rd, 2006
5:03 pm
The chords loosen
Freedom from you
Freedom from this
I thought it was you
You were binding me down
Pulling me to you
Trapping me.
But it was my feelings
They would not let go...
Of what?
I don't know
But now i'm released
I can move
And love
And make my peace.
Monday, December 27th, 2004
11:26 pm
tbblowfish my name is cora different from poppyhorse just thought i would let ya'll know
11:24 pm


Your smile
Retracting from your heart
Makes me burst inside.

Your big brown eyes
They are so honest
I cant be mad.

I am not sad
In your presence
How can I be
You make me smile.

You are so true
So there
So deep.

When you look at me
I'm lost
I'm confused
I'm not there.

I cant explain what I feel
Just a crush?
Surely not,
Is it love?
Could it be ?

Your so truthful
What can i do ?
I cant be me!
Your my one
Do you notice me ?
11:23 pm

Locked in a world
of inconsiderate people
they use and abuse you
but you keep going back
you can't understand it .

You don't get them
they don't get you
but they're your best friend
or are they just a figment
of your imagination,
or are they real
you can't undersatnd it.

Do you ever really understand them
or do you just pretend.
Is this world just a dream
or is it real
Is it so real
you can't understand it?
Wednesday, December 1st, 2004
5:52 am
from "Morning Hikus"
Sleeping In
I've fallen in love
A brief but torrid affair
Just me and the bed

Interesting dreams
Shattered by a loud buzzing
fucking mosquitoes
Sunday, February 22nd, 2004
12:04 pm
Forever CryingCollapse )

Current Mood: contemplative
Saturday, February 21st, 2004
6:54 pm
NEW!!! Dedicated to my ex-friend Dallas!!!
Im sorry that I hurt you
Im sorry that I dared
I would have told you sooner
But I didnt know you cared.

I like him oh so much
And I know that you do to
But I think that I love him
And I want him to love me too.

You may be gone for now
But I will think of a way
We will be friends again
I will fix this one day.

Current Mood: crushed
Friday, February 20th, 2004
12:57 am
coming back from sheol
i found You waiting by the banks
where my mother's mother usually waits

[if you choose to end this program now, you will lose any unsaved information]

where the kids never grow up, and never grow old

[fatal exception: runtime error]

the woods have ears, but their mouths are too full to speak
they sigh and bow eastward with holes in their temples

[general protection fault:abnormal program termination]

[3 items remaining]

You and me
what would happen if we did?
make the world from formless void
i cover Your beautiful lips with mine and we float

[2 hierarchical trees created]

one may not survive the winter
one is glow-in-the-dark
fertile crescent, gives me shade and still water
i never want You to go, i'll do anything
i clasp my hands tightly around Your waist and hope that you can still breathe

[1 item remaining]

if it's not me, it's usually one of them
if it's not them, it's the odd little tree
or sometimes it's you with your hands folded
pale like headlights
covered in ash
like a plastic doll with your mouth full
or sometimes it's You like You are tonight
ripe like an apricot
green pastures, the scent of milk and honey
angelic and in full bloom

[Line 42 Error: Undetermined String Constant]
[A script error occurred on this page. Do you want to continue running scripts on this page?]
[A script error occurred on this page. Do you want to continue running scripts on this page?]
[A script error occurred on this page. Do you want to continue running scripts on this page?]
[A script error occurred on this page. Do you want to continue running scripts on this page?]
[A script error occurred on this page. Do you want to continue running scripts on this page?]

D. Canon
thanks for reading...any input is appreciated!

Current Mood: Other
Thursday, February 19th, 2004
8:14 pm
lemme know wut u think
Take me and hold me
and watch me fade away
Cry myself to sleep
I cry my life away

Break me and burn me
Kill me if you please
Stab me and beat me
Bleeding... on my hands and knees

Do you see me?
I am dieing
But in my heart
I will forever be crying.

Current Mood: curious
Sunday, January 25th, 2004
7:49 am
I wanna hear a poem by steve coleman
I Wanna Hear a Poem
I wanna hear a poem
I wanna learn something I didn't know
I wanna say "yes" at the end, because I'm sick of saying "so?"

I wanna hear a poem about who you are
And what you think
And why you slam
Not a poem about me and my poem
Because I know who I am

I wanna hear a love poem
A sad poem
An "I hate my dad" poem
A dream poem
An "I'm not what I seem" poem
An "I need" poem
An "I also bleed" poem
An "I'm alone" poem
An "I can't find my home" poem
I just wanna hear a poem

I wanna hear a poem about revolution
About fists raised high
And hips twisting in a rumble like a rumba
I wanna follow the footsteps of Chè
And hear the truth about the days of CIA killed the mumba

I wanna hear a poem about struggle
So that when I open my mouth, I can step outside myself
I wanna listen to no less than the sounds of protest
In the factories where workers sweat and make Air Jordans and Pro-Keds because
If you wanna take shots at people
Target Phil Knight and Bill Gates
Contemplate how
They own the products
And they got the goods
How they act like they care
But they're just Robin Hoods

I wanna hear a poem where ideas kiss similes so deeply that metaphors get jealous
Where the subject matters so much that adjectives start holding pro-noun rallies at city hall

Because I wanna hear a poem that attacks the status quo
That attracts the clapse of the cats with the fattest flows
That makes the crowd pass the hat
And pack my cap with a stack of dough
I wanna hear a poem that makes this audience yell "hoooo!"

Because I wanna guess your favorite color
Then craft rhyme schemes out of thin air
I wanna hear a poem about why the statute of limitations for rape is only five years
I wanna hear a poem
I wanna feel a poem
I wanna taste a poem
Give me your spot on the mic if you wanna waste a poem

I wanna
A Poem

Steve Coleman, 1998 Slam Champion
Thursday, March 13th, 2003
1:04 am
Litening Cafe
Finally off work, I head down to the litening café for a hot one.

Nothing like 4000 volts running through your entire system.

They all know me here. I’ve been goin’ there for years.

When I get there, a guy comes up to me and says, “Hey, I know you.”

Visibly nonplussed, I’m not quite sure how to react. I don’t remember this guy.

“You probably don’t remember me,” he says with a giant grin. “I haven’t seen you in over 10,000 years.”

That’s curious, I don’t remember anything beyond 4000 years ago. I try to ignore him and get in a few more volts.

“We jumped from Iceberg to iceberg in those days. And you… your name was Yor. Yor of the Ice People.”

You know, shock therapy used to be only for the very rich and criminally insane. It’s easy to take for granted, now that it’s available in all the local cafes.

It used to just be for rich and the criminally insane, now everyone wants some.

“What are you doing with yourself these days?” he asks.

“I’m a web designer,” I say. “But hey who isn’t.”

Visibly nonplussed, he’s not sure how to react. Web designer?

I take a few more volts.

“If you had humanity at your feet, what would you say?” he asks.

“Humanity?” I say. ”You mean, like, all of it?”

“No, like… like if you had a million, or a thousand people… or, like, 100 people who were hanging on your every word… what would you say?”

It’s been so long since someone has asked me that. “Well…” I say at last, “I would probably just be still.”

A knowing grin climbs his face like a iceberg reaching from the horizon, he puts his hand on my shoulder.

“As you were back then, my friend. As you were back then.” And with that, he walks away.

I guess he didn’t want any current, after all.

Yor of the ice people…. What a crazy idea.
Saturday, March 8th, 2003
2:02 am
Well I don't know where I came from
And I don't know who I am
So I cry
All alone
Fast asleep

And the hallways isn't empty
But there's no one else around
So I sit
All alone
With the sound

Time goes slowly
Sleepy me
I get lonely, you see

Soon a someone
Will this way come
The door is open for me

If I howl out in the nitetime
Will you put me back to bed
And kiss
Me on
My head?

And if I run across the bedroom
It's cause I see the ghost of me
And I'm afraid
That so
Is he

I wish I was
In bed with you
There's nothign else to do

I'll be good
And you be still
We've got time to kill

Well I don't like transportation
And I don't know any words
But I
Can Sing
Like birds

Help me
Hold me

Where I'm
Friday, February 14th, 2003
1:08 pm
Valentine's Day

Current Mood: appropo
Tuesday, December 17th, 2002
1:17 am
Pig Farmer
Pig Farmer Pig Farmer
What are you growing
Pig Farmer Pig farmer
killing your hogs
Meat Packer Meat packer
What's on you shiney hook
Meat packer meat packer
what's in your box

butcher o butcher
what cuts are you selling
butcher do you have
a chop for my son
little boy little boy
what are you eating
little boy son of a
struggling dad

Working man working man
wife and a child
Working man wondering
"what will I do?"
Homebody homebody
home with the child
Homebody's husband's home
She's black and blue

Little gun little gun
sleeps in the dresser
little gun waking up
Hey, I know you
noe Father knows what to do
and so does his child
cat and the dog
And the homebody too

Pig farmer Pig farmer
Where are you going?
Pig Farmer Pig farmer
killing your hogs

Current Mood: ethereal
Tuesday, May 7th, 2002
2:35 pm
bio pomes
Monkey Music

The monkey is red and throbbing to rapid music.
What monkey dances red to throbbing music?
What? Monkeys? What monkeys? Music is for honey lover monkeys.
Monkeys love red honey.
Red honey makes throbbing red music do what it will.
Red will m ake monkey music like throbbing invisilbe angels.
Angels of monkeys on red skies eating honey.
What about monkeys, honey? What? Reds don’t eat moon goo.
Moon goo is red like monkeys, honey.
I eat red goo off shoes in pools on monkey moons.
And moon too do you to monkey honey funny red goo.
Goo goo goo moon monkey red love.
Dogs eat goo good God’s good goo for dogs and monkeys.
Red monkeys.
honey monkeys.
Dog monkeys?
God monkeys!
God money...
God’s money buys monkeys for honey gods to dip the even odds.
Black and white monkeys buy gods for honey dogs.
Odds are black monkey god even has a funny bone.
Even black bones make good monkeys bad.
Bad monkeys eat baskets of red coloured monkey bones.
Red monkeys make music on throbbing red monkey baskets.
Baskets dance with monkey lovers throbbing in rapid music.
Rapid red baskets drip monkey honey on throbbing red music.
Red music making monkeys hungry for God dog lover honey.
Monkeys making throbbing music, red rappib music, honey.
Honey monkey making music. Thr obbing rapid music.
Red monkey throbbing to the rapid honey music.
Red music.
Rappid music.
Useless music.
Monkey music.

BioTri and The Becoming (Manifesto)

start with a simple line
keep starting with a simple line
start starting simple lines
simple lines and more lines
start varing lines more and more
like the lines that were started
but different from the start lines.

Now start filling the spaces
keep filling in the space
start filling more space
fill more space between lines
start varying fillin g more and more
between the lines that were started
but different from the start filling

start to fill with simple space
start to fill the fill with space
space erace the fill and lines
now that you filled it with lines and space
start varying space, le s s and less
make space between lines and fill
and different from fill and lines

keep stopping
stop lines filling space
stop filling space in lines
No more making space in fill and lines
Don’t vary stoping. Just stop.
Make no more no less
It is diff eren t. it is done.

Ballad of Pico and Stripe

Monday, April 15th, 2002
9:51 pm
Inconsequential Inconsistencies

Plagueing everywhere even the desicated lands,
the pestulence with many plans.
Parasitic clones that festor with gile and disease,
who else do they have to please?
Surficing to say in the least,
They like war not peace.

Since this is the demon that reigns supreme
it wins its battles and lives it's envisioned dream.
The dream of ill willed that destroys who they are
will they ever be saved, or have they gone too far?
This Evil and darkness that smothers their hearts
tearing, pulling, and breaking it apart.

It needs to be fixed, mended and healed.
That demon must be thwarted and killed.
If not zombies will roam the lighted way
Not caring of whom they kill and eat as prey...


Current Mood: restless
Monday, March 18th, 2002
9:30 pm
Over the load speaker...
Howdy everyone!
I really need some people to read my poetry and get back to me on whatcha think...I would be so greatly appreciative of this. Leave comments, criticms, suggestions...whatever. All is welcome...just check out my journal at poppyhorse, and leave some comments.
Saturday, March 16th, 2002
11:00 pm
Corn Beef

Slaughtered meat,
the tasty edible treat.
For this special day
we celebrate.

I havn't eaten in so long.
I am soooo hungry.
I have this hunger.
It wants to be fullfilled.

I miss eating.
the fulfillment.

I want to savor it in my mouth.

Exploring my body.

The feeling of my flesh as it
bastes me in its scorching liquid heat.
My desire, it sizzles with passion.
Consuming, and controling.

I can only with stand for so long.
I am extremely hungry.
I need to eat my fill soon.


Current Mood: horny
[ << Previous 20 ]
About LiveJournal.com