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briarmoon · 1 year

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The Day Betty White Died

I bought a hand gun

The day Betty White died

At the age of 99;

Nothing really special, hun,

Just a Ruger 45.

Your un-woke asshole reeks

From the shit your mad mouth spews,

Between those orange cheeks

In front of all these pews.

I’m tired of their twisted lips

Spiitting toxic viper vile,

Over their silicone tits

And plastic cherry smiles.

Kenny ain’t doin’ nothing

To make this country great,

Sipping gin from red Solo cups

Ice cold with so much hate.

I bought a hand gun

The day Betty White died;

A pretty-in-pink one -

Why are you so surprised?

To them, we’re all weirdo freaks

Mock righteousness they choose,

When pecking their crooked beaks

At loose bags of nuts and screws.

A merry round of pistols whip

These Proud Boys into shape,

With a gaggle of firm grips

And dazzling rainbow capes.

Karen ain’t doin’ nothing

To make this country great,

Serving slices of poison pie

On fancy Chinet plates.

All this too shall come to pass

When I cap a bullet in your ass.

I bought a hand gun

The day Betty White died;

Not for sport or fun

Just trying to survive.

In a sea of sheep

Sailing on a ship of fools,

Pray the Lord, their souls to keep

Courtesy of Fox News.

Flo can kiss my grits

There won’t be any trial,

No judges to acquit

When I blast those redneck smiles.

They ain’t doin’ nothing

To make this country great,

Wearing their red dunce caps

Y’all hennies took the bait.

I bought a hand gun

The day Betty White died;

Chic-Fil-A better run

Before I cross the other side.

There won’t be any jury

No church bells down the aisle,

Our palms are clenched with fury

Cuz you treaded on our style.

We don’t wish you well

It’s time to face the nation,

You won’t live to tell

When you face our congregation.

You ain’t doin’ nothing

To make this country great,

This is the hate you breed when

Indifference learns to procreate.

All this too shall come to pass

When I cap a bullet in your ass.

I bought a hand gun

The day Betty White died

At the age of 99;

Nothing really special, hun,

Just trying to survive.

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prasannawrites · 2 years

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5/30. will i stop writing about food? who knows. text id under cut

SWEET LIKE MAMBAZHA PUTTU

of light, of love—twined together by the turmeric yellow thread

of time, there is little to be said, little to be offered apart

from breaking bread, and making a feast from leftovers—

cooking is transformative, how else does love transpire?

to stare at rice-flour, add a little salt, pour boiling

water over it, let it cool before breaking it up into

little clumps with an old tin-can, crack open a

coconut, grate it, and then layer the little clumps of

flour with coconut, and let it gently steam for about

ten minutes, and serve with either something sweet

or savoury—you have ripe mango on hand, so you

pair it with that. making something from nothing,

that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

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thepoetscorner · 3 years

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I know it’s forbidden.

But your touch is all I know.

You touch me not with your hands

but with your soul

-my secret

#thepoetscorner #poetry #poem #poet #original #quoteoftheday #inspiring quotes #motivation #books #inspiration

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oflourdes · 3 years

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march 7, 2020

-kl

#poetry #poem #writeblr #poemblr #writing #my writing #original #spilled ink #writerscreed #poets on tumblr #writers of tumblr #poetsandwriters #thepoetscorner

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unnaturalmind · 4 years

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Communal rifts From partisan politics

Relinquished respect For close relatives

Relationships are tested The fuses are lit

Both sides heavily invested For reasons both deem legit

If you say “All lives matter” One more time I’m going to explode

And fuck me for saying “Systemic racism exists”

For reasons unknown You can’t understand How you raised Such a compassionate kid

These divisive politics Make me fucking sick

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justastarry-eyeddreamer · 4 years

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Unspoken

There were

too many things

I've left unsaid

So instead

Those words

Clumped in my throat

Rolled down my cheeks

Carried by my breaths

They speak

Of the should have beens

Or the could have beens

All of which

Remaining still

Unspoken

As it's always been

A slow silent kill

- PM

#writerscreed #poetrypost #poetryportal #spilled poetry #original poetry #poetry #poeticstories #tbpreblogs #24hoursopen #writeblr #poets of tumblr #poets corner #short poem #thepoetscorner #13cupsofteareblog

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runningtowardstheendlesssea · 4 years

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Untitled

collect the debris of my wasted heart

collect the corpses from the highway tracks

we’re never going to change

we’re never going to change our ways.

i

am a non-believer now

i

don’t even know, somehow,

and you and you and you and you and you

should know.

smash the CDs in the living room

smash the piano with a broken broom

we’re never going to change

we’re never going to change our ways.

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themodelscoach · 5 years

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“There’s water in my body, fire in my mind, life in my spirit and blood in my soul. My lessons make my muscles and my memories my joints. And there’s not a single moment that they are not guided by the loving power of the Moon and the Sun. This is why I know it is okay to make waves just by simply being myself, since the Moon does it all the time. And I will not stop shinning like I do, regardless of the clouds.” ~Nel~ #nelmoschetto #moonpoetry #moonsun #sunmoon #sunpoetry #poetscorner #thepoetscorner #montrealwriters #writersblock #writersonig #montrealauthors #auteurequebecoise #auteure #poetesse #poetesses #mtlauthor #canadianauthors #argentiniangirl https://www.instagram.com/p/B2LbDvVFIrz/?igshid=1nssyt3q7uc12

#nelmoschetto #moonpoetry #moonsun #sunmoon #sunpoetry #poetscorner #thepoetscorner #montrealwriters #writersblock #writersonig #montrealauthors #auteurequebecoise #auteure #poetesse #poetesses #mtlauthor #canadianauthors #argentiniangirl

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mywordsatlast · 3 years

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You look beautiful in jewellery but more beautiful while wearing your SELF.

-mywordsatlast

#thehopefulquotes #thepoetscorner #recycleyourpain #motivational quotes #refurbish

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madibamusic · 6 years

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#Salute @magero_tbh an exceptionally talented #SpokenWord #Artist who when @wisdm_uk commissioned him to create an original piece based on the theme #FreedomFighters with only a month to create / record / perform live #WISDM @smallgreenshoots @ClubFRSHRZ @aceagrams @j_romez @poeticunity #ThePoetsCorner #Freedom #Fighters #PoetryEvent #LiveMusic #Classics #Revolutionary #BlackCulturalArchives #Brixton #Poetry #SpokenWord #PoeticUnity #PoetryIsLife #WeInspireSupportDevelopMaster #ClubFRSHRZ

#brixton #wisdm #poetry #freedomfighters #clubfrshrz #fighters #weinspiresupportdevelopmaster #poeticunity #freedom #revolutionary #artist #salute #thepoetscorner #classics #poetryislife #spokenword #blackculturalarchives #poetryevent #livemusic

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skandouz · 6 years

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TONIGHT Just a handful of tickets left! For The Poets Corner presents: ‘Freedom Fighters' @bcaheritage 🙌 tickets available from link in our bio, don't miss an intimate evening where poetry meets revolutionary music. Doors open 6.30pm, show starts 7pm (sharp) #FREEDOMFIGHTERS #Project featuring #original #poems from @ragzcv @magero_tbh @nekkitaspeaks @lucrecia_selinex @abstractbenna & @tonyakaro #WISDM @smallgreenshoots @ClubFRSHRZ @aceagrams @j_romez @khays_camera #ThePoetsCorner #Freedom #Fighters #PoetryEvent #LiveMusic #Classics #Revolutionary #BlackCulturalArchives #Brixton #Poetry #SpokenWord #PoeticUnity #PoetryIsLife #WISDM (at Black Cultural Archives)

#livemusic #original #poetryislife #poetry #spokenword #poetryevent #thepoetscorner #wisdm #blackculturalarchives #revolutionary #classics #poems #freedom #poeticunity #freedomfighters #fighters #brixton #project

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briarmoon · 3 years

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The Poodle (Limerick)

Lucky-doodle the poodle

Ate the whole kit and kaboodle;

Out of house and home

And even the garden gnome –

Because it tasted like strudel!

#poetry #dogs #poodles #humor #limerick #poetsoninstagram #poetsofwordpress #poetscommunity #thepoetscorner #poetscafe #poetsconnection

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prasannawrites · 2 years

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4/30. text id under cut.

APRIL COROLLARY

Sorrow espaliered across the width of my body—the unruly sun

manages to cast light on it. I suppose that necessitates a thank you,

moss grows best in shade—would my sorrow have grown into something

unspeakable, something you only glance at for a moment before your

stomach ties itself in knots with pity?

A paradigm of a body—bruised, broken, and bent;

the wounds are telling, even in this abundance of green & sun,

their refusal to heal is tantamount to a state of constant regret.

They become tubers, storing trauma under skin, overwintering easily

but do not generate new roots, and instead permanently store

the pain. I accept, and acknowledge this—

there will come a day when I can weed myself to the point

being a heart-shaped meadow in a quiet existence,

only blooming flowers we planted.

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thepoetscorner · 3 years

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My anxious thoughts race in my mind as I struggle to make sense of the string of words that fill it. “Her eyes”, I think. “It all started with her eyes.” They were blue like the sky, but they sparkled and shimmered like the sea. It wasn’t the color that captivated me though, it was her expressions. Her mannerisms.Her gaze..oh Her soft gaze. The way light flowed from her soul and poured out of her eyes was enough to light the whole world at night. I will remember those looks and that gaze, for the rest of my life. And Sadly I will search for her in others for the rest of my life as well.

“Her eyes”, I think. My body trembles as I try to walk. My feet slowly move forward. I stare at the ground afraid of what I may see, even though I already know what lies ahead. The air is wet and heavy and muted voices mumble in the background. All I can hear though is the grass crunching underneath my shoes and the quiet pulse that trobbes in my head. As I walk down the aisle my feet sink deeper into the the ground, their weight multiplying with every step. My chest heaves and quivers as I near the end of this treacherous walk. And I know that the time is coming to look up.

Her eyes had a way of wandering. she always gazed off into the distance, admiring the beauty of what surrounded her. Whether it was the sky or the stars, the trees or even the bugs, she always found it’s beauty. While she did this I would always gaze at her. I studied her face the way she studied the stars. A work of art, she would say. I would nod, Because indeed, she was a work of art. I watched her fall in love with the earth. And the more I looked at her, the more I never wanted to look away.

I approach the end of the aisle, my eyes pinched shut. My Adam’s apple bobs up and down as my throat tightens. Air escapes my mouth in small, weak slivers. My chest shakes with every forced breath. And slowly I let my eye lids rise.

“Oh how beautiful you look, my love.” I say through trembling lips.

My jaw clenches as tears well up in my eyes. Your casket has a blue silk lining, A light baby blue. And a dark oak wood that you would say matches my eyes perfectly . You lay there so peacefully.

So still.

-love at first sight

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oflourdes · 3 years

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march 7, 2020

-kl

#poetry #poem #mine #words #word collage #writeblr #poemblr #writing #spilled ink #writerscreed #writers of tumblr #poetsandwriters #thepoetscorner #original work

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sojc123 · 5 years

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Poem retake: "The Rest of the Relatives." #poem #poet #poems #poets #poetry #poetryweekly #revisited #retake #literature #lit #poetrycommunityofinstagram #writs #thepoetscorner #writing #poetrycommunity #photopoem #bymepoetry #globalpoetcult #lifeispoetry #poetryisnotdead #poetry_addicts #poetrygram (at Huntsville, Alabama) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzpUtKhl3EA/?igshid=ub0cxjl83igy

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