Best Hoodies Poems
One must imagine Sisyphus’s
boulder, marble-sized these days
And Ozymandias’ plaque,
spinning despair into praise
Look on, ye hypocrites,
and sneer at my undoing
Your universe is a giant sandpit,
entropy accruing
Their legacies long crumbled,
eroded by rust
Gods built the wrong way,
on scaffolds of dust
Virtue or vice register
equally the same
Except between stars,
there’s space for one more grain
Down here, we clock in daily,
stack hours like prayer
Worship strong Wi-Fi,
evangelize on thin air
Imagine heavenly echoes,
because the silence isn’t fair
Some develop connection,
others a thousand-yard stare
Our Earth splits naturally,
along seismic lines
Greenwich claims centre stage,
only for the meantime
Sisyphus, still aching,
gets an epidural at last
But only in hindsight,
for his hump blocks the past
Redrawn are our own lines,
watchtowers in the sand
Sketching new borders,
carving up the promised land
Exhume ancient treasure,
and black, viscous stuff
Addicted to all things buried,
as if our dead weren’t enough
Still we write blindly,
tracing glyphs already faded
Helps lift the mood
when depressed and jaded
Gods stand on shaky ground,
myth holds them together
In schisms that bind billions,
then sever forever
Oh, look on—ye poet
Sisyphus now rolls his eyes
He’s seen the apps, wars,
hoodies, and cable ties
His hamster wheel’s a meme
for gods who merely try
Small wonder he mutters,
at least Ozymandias gets to die
And sometimes I pray to gods,
or maybe their ghosts
About versions of me
I’ve been missing the most
They don’t directly answer,
but do leave this guess
In the end, to keep on rolling
may be my passing success
By David Kavanagh
How did a cherry kiss? Bitter flower petals with sweet pistils.
So laden they act as halos while we breathe the love
in a pink hollow, silence sounding like taste, acting like epistle
to hold this moment in a silvery image, like moon, or dove
low, low, a bowl formed while sunshine flickers above.
Chains of yellow petals hang over our deck, the leaves hands--
offer welcome resting branch, our sheltered home.
Seeds follow close, fragile like beans, hard case to feed the land
crawl before God, they say, be grateful as we weed and stir loam.
Together seeds and flowers and hands make a life a poem.
Awaiting the sumac, the flame at summer's ending is fruitless
we've passed the feathering, the pimping of red underneath bristle
the deer horn softness crawling out in oddest places in a mess
lining the sand pond, above the purpled iris, the pestle
of stone and sun, no rain to bring down sumac's fiery trestle.
Vulturous crows squawk and fight the ring-billed sea gulls
waiting, one in the bared hollow hands of the cottonwood
the other fat-bellied and waddling after rain finally dulls
we're under hoodies, under shivers, our neighborhood
waits the pinking and mossing, will it unfurl new wood?
Sometimes I feel like I'm not supposed to be here
But I put on a brave face because they hope to see fear
Labels on my head and judgement from the environment
I wear Hoodies, Trainers and have tattoos so I don't meet their requirements
They don't care about your dreams unless you want to be a police officer, Nurse or Fireman
So much anxiety so I barely go out into society
Still cant believe Americans voted for Donald Trump
Here in the UK we have people holding signs saying its a 2 minute walk for a McDonald's lunch
But no one holds signs or gives directions to the nearest library
They'll encourage you to get obese, when they should encourage you to read
Because they will always fear someone who is smart
So many idiots out their brag that they smoke weed
Like its a great accomplishment that they had to work for with their whole heart
People with no dreams, take shots at someone who's trying to Make a success of their life
The biggest smiles during the day, will be the most upset in the night
Seen people act tough and talk a lot while the Lion is in the cage
But open that cage door and they're stuttering their apologies and begging god for a second chance before the lion escapes
That's the same for all of those who make threats online
People will forget the 99 things I got right, but throw it in my face when I took the wrong step one time
A bunch of wannabe thugs talk about how they hold guns and are going to waste us
But the only time they've held a Mac, is when they passed their girlfriend her make up
I've listened to Hip-Hop since I was 10 and never claimed to be a thug
Come from a family of addicts and have never touched drugs
So I can't take people serious who blame their circumstances
My nightmares tried to screw me, but I'll make love to my dreams and flirt with chances
Give my food for thought and let you know what's inside of me
I refuse to be a victim of society
A hint of red and yellow
Amongst a sea of green
A sign that change is coming
To the forest canopies
This morn's air is slightly chilled
Much more than in past months
And squirrels scurry 'cross the ground
Collecting all their nuts
There are no children playing
Nor in the swimming pools
The streets are calm and quiet
For they've all gone back to school
Some have dug out their hoodies
And others long sleeve shirts
And some have traded off their shorts
For Pants and longer skirts
The corn too, has turned colors
From green to wilted brown
And bonfires are blossoming
Like ember flowers from the ground
Ciders and hot chocolate
And flavors of pumpkin spice
And the beers at Oktoberfest
Well, they Taste just as nice
The full moon rises larger
Signs of harvest in the air
And the deer become skittish
With bow season drawing near
The sky itself seems different
It's shades of grey and blue
And the sun that hides behind the clouds
Tells us fall will be here soon
I had a cat, a large one
I thought I loved the cat
The cat thought he loved me too!
Then, one day,
They took the cat away
The cat, with the bassinet, the little furry presence
And Sameeha’s science club chapstick
And I thought I was kissing scientific a book cover
Where he is artistic in a beauty in the other way, rare.
It was a cat. After all, it was just a cat
It had the nicest jacket ,
with hoodies on,
the cat used to sit on time,
the cat
And it had the fish, tummy time, happy face, and everything first time
For I never yearn to come back! For there, to chime!
It is just a known type of pain that I knew for far too long!
On a question paper, pm time, departmental too
Dealey Plaza, are you keeping right on the still unresolved Elm street?
Heavenly God , do you play around heavenly to utter Godsay, is your slip
Where you do not know usually after or before the strait the gate
You never knew Jack Ruby and you never knew Oswald
So you never knew other than too much other than, Please, other tall!
Dangling hair, girls twirl, drum majors,
Baseball turned cap boys, screenagers,
Gum chew boys, girls curls, tweenagers,
Just teenagers, just teenagers.
Pixie sticks tootsie rolls swallows,
Gummy bears m & m's follows,
Reeses cups hershey bars hollows,
Tidbits mellows, tidbits mellows.
Marshmallow pillow stuffing jams,
Strawberries dribble squishing rams,
Peach clings and lemon rings swim crams,
Dollops mouth slams dollops mouth slams.
Dressed up, lollipop, a cutesome,
Suit, tie, flowers guy, a twosome,
Hoodies, both moody, don't getsome,
Great into some, great into some.
PEDDLING HOPE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a small pill, solace in a blister pack
legally dispensed by a white coat
promises relief, a cure, a return to normalcy,
a life unburdened from pain and disease.
the ache returns, however, louder and more insistent
another pill, then two
the dosage creeping like a vine.
a pressed white powder, a crystal shard
illegally peddled in a dark alley
promises escape, temporary reprieve, abnormality,
a life numbed from pain.
the craving returns, however, the gnawing need
the body screams,
desperately clawing for the next fix.
addiction cares not about legality~
the hungry monster gnaws the same
whether fed by doctor’s script or dealer’s promise.
Big Pharma, a sanitized name
cartels in suits and white lab coats
pushing their product with glossy ads.
the cartel’s hand, a brutal fist
deals death blows and ruin,
pushing their product in seedy places and backstreet alleys.
one wears a suit, funds politicians,
smiles on commercials, promises relief from disease.
the other whispers in shadows
creates transactions based on desperation and fear.
Big Pharma’s towers gleam, untouchable
built on prescriptions, on the fine print no one reads.
cartels hide, their dens and caves obscured
built on blood, dead bodies, and broken dreams.
how many lives line the pockets of pharmaceutical giants,
legal drug pushers in suits peddling hope in blister packs?
how many lives line the pockets of backstreet cartels,
illegal drug pushers in hoodies peddling hope in powder?
Wait! don’t tell me about regulations, about quality control
when the end result is the same:
bodies chained; minds enslaved
lives bartered for fleeting highs and ephemeral repose.
I am pretty.
I know, because everyone says so.
I am so pretty that
Hoodies and lack of makeup
Translate as showing off
Natural beauty- as confidence
In the fact that everyone
Will love me,
Instead of disinterest...
I am so pretty that
Boys ask how old I am,
And say, "Too bad..."
Because I'm under 18.
I am so pretty that
My boyfriend doesn't like
To kiss me in public
Because everyone stares
At the Hispanic boy
With- The nerve!-
To touch a white girl-
And a pretty white girl,
No less!
I am so pretty that
Any boy will flirt with me
And when I remind them
That I have a boyfriend,
They protest,
"But you're so pretty!"
I am so pretty that
When my best friend,
A Muslim girl,
Taught me how to wear
A hijab,
People asked why
Would I ever cover up;
They would say,
"But you're so pretty!"
I am so pretty
That I know I could never
Say that I feel lonely-
People would just say,
"But you're so pretty!"
I am so pretty that
When I'm upset,
People will tell me,
"But you're so pretty...
You, know that, right?"
Yeah. I know.
Sometimes I don't switch on TV, the radio stays dumb
and finishing a newspaper can leave me feeling numb.
What is it with this world of ours, where did it all go wrong?
How could the higher-ups elect leave it like this so long?
Should in the future by strange quirk just one man gets a voice
and leader of the world is picked at random, not by choice
and through my letterbox a card that says it will be me
then here's my manifesto telling how my world will be........
From infant school to college , five to eighteen and above
a daily lesson will be taught on what it means to love.
Care, compassion, sympathy, respect, be generous
be acted out from dawn to dusk, not just sit and discuss.
The value of all earthy life, no man to lay a hand on
and we put an end to children, horses, dogs and cats abandoned.
Hoodies will be outlawed, no reason to hide one's face
and gangstas from da hood will wear a onesie in it's place
(the ones that look like Pandas or a Pokemon or cat)
so no more threatening gestures, there, I've taken care of that.
All military vehicles no longer will be green
but paler shades of Lavender and pink so they'll be seen.
The nuclear warheads from the planet's face I would expunge
conventional weapons would now be tipped with pointy sponge.
Barb wire fence and barricades would all be knocked down flat
and entering each country would be on a welcome mat.
The list of National Anthems under me would not last long
I'd swop them all for 'Happy', that nice Pharrell Williams song.
Monday as start of working week, I refuse to defend
so I'd bolt it onto Sunday just to make a long weekend.
To replenish the rainforests we all must plant a tree
and litter pick the garbage from the vast Sargasso sea.
Rewards for all these changes that I make around the world?
Free beer to all the fellahs and Prosecco for the girls.
The kids get sweets and chocolate but they must understand
they're still in bed by seven, and they've got to wash their hands.
For contest 'If I could change the world', sponsor Becca Teagan
By Robert (Bob) Moore (©2015)
The gun shearer has gone now, like many other things
the shearing sheds are empty, and wools no longer king
gone now like the drover, and the brumbie on the plains
but we still have the scorched brown earth, and droughts and soaking rains
The aussie language has almost gone , the things we used to say
fair dinkum sport, and ridgie didge, and hello was “G’day”
no “its your shout” “snakes in your pocket” “he’s a bonza bloke”
“Bloody oath” and “Dinky Di” and “can’t you take a joke”
no footy shorts and tshirt, an Akubra hat was neat
now its baseball caps and hoodies, and Nikies on your feet
you don’t drive a Holden car, you drive a Nissan tank
the aussie way of life is gone, you can take that to the bank
once you could walk along the street, anytime without a care
bread and milk delivered to your door, the money you’d leave there
upon the step, with empty bottles, people just walked bye
no way that you could not do that now, and you wouldn’t even try
no bangers on the barbie, with a great big piece of steak
Hoges even calls a prawn a shrimp, the Americans to placate
used to say “a barbie out the back”, but now its “al fresco”
with emu, ostrich, and crocodile, and some you may not want to know
now everything is different, but did it all go wrong
can we say that it’s just progress, and we are where we belong
multicultural, many Nations, trying to live as one
no manufacturing anymore, all of that has gone
Is it still a Western Culture here, an Anglo-celtic race
or has it changed, to something else, at a slow, unnoticed pace
there’s Catholics, Buddhists. Muslims, there’s Anglicans and Jews
in every tier of government, and controlling all the news.
So we only know what we are told, and pretend that we don’t see
what’s happening to this Country, ‘cause that’s just not PC
so soon the Lucky Country, may not be lucky anymore
and we’ll find the life which we once knew, has walked right out the door
Liberty Hall
The halls are packed with Liberty,
She cries FREEDOM on the streets.
The halls are packed with Liberty,
The children forgo their sweets.
Let's have a Ball
Smash and grab, fire asunder
Take what you can, who cares!
Come on people, lets' plunder,
Don't worry about the stares.
It's your Call
Hey coppers, we're over here,
What are you going to do in blue?
Like Goliath you have the spear
But we have our stones too.
England's Fall
Forever England, forever scarred,
A scared community up in arms,
Houses burnt, vehicles charred,
Come citizens, sound the alarm.
Murdered All
Standing up for justice,
Protecting innocent blood,
"That's when the motorist
Ran them over m'lud".
England's Rise
To arms people of England
And bring your brooms to sweep
Up those in the gutter and
Take them off to the Keep
It's Our Call
We'll clear our streets of chard
Of glass and wash away the blood.
We know that recession hits you hard
And poverty's doors opened the flood.
The PM's Call
To those of you who caused this pain
I say to you again and again;
"We shall seek you out, bang on your door
To prison you'll go and join the score."
The Rioters Ball.
To the party the hoodies went
Headline news and infamy gained,
Lusted and busted, their energy spent
Their futures ordained and chained.
Whitehall
The doors of power convened in suit
And Judgement Day sprang to life.
Murmurings and guffaws of repute
Resonated like Churchillian days of rife.
In high school everything changes
Teachers, friends, you,
“That’s just life” they say,
And they never stop to ask
“Well, how do you feel?”
And your friends leave, and your grades decrease,
And your teachers begin to worry,
And they make you see a shrink,
But they never stop to ask,
“Well, how do you feel?”
The sky starts to crumble,
And the tears begin to fall,
And music and hoodies become your best friends,
And they never stop to ask,
“Well, how do you feel?”
And the tools come out.
And the objects fall apart,
And you reach for the closest one,
And the ask, finally,
“Well, how do you feel?”
But by now it’s too late.
Your time is up, your blood’s run out,
Your scars show for the world to see,
Cause they asked too late,
“Well, how do you feel?”
“She was so young” they all say,
But really you were old.
You’d seen so much and hurt so much,
It was time for you to go.
So you picked up the pills and washed them down
And grabbed the blades and cut
And when they finally noticed you weren’t around
It was too late you were gone.
They found your letter on the bed
And read it out at school
“You asked to late, but I don’t blame you.”
And your friends were moved to tears.
In your tree house in the yard
They found you pale as snow
Your eyes closed, a smile on your face
And they realized you were gone.
They roll up your sleeves and roll up your pants
And scream at what they see
Lines, and lines, and lines of cuts
Some healed and some not.
And they realized they should have asked in the beginning
How you felt that is, cause,
Honestly you didn’t,
You didn’t feel anything at all.
Sometimes I just feel picture-perfect
like flowers that stay blue
even if they can't reflect the ocean.
and I want to serenade the firmament
and resound myself to the air with silence like growing,
and sink tendrils, feasting off the sun in whisper-spirals of
photosynthesis and simple love like
eyelash to eyelash.
When you're small, spinning
around in circles feels like magic, with
wind webbing your fingers and flowers in your hair,
wild as anarchy over your unfurled shoulder-blades.
Tears don't always mean sadness
when you find them on your nose and realize it's
storm-song brushing your soul.
This time I was running under cathedral-clouds
draped in sistine light on the edges, and curling.
Sorrow and love are always spat through each other,
until they spark, flinting through my waterlogged eyes.
I just saw myself in a mirror and turned it inside-out
and around to escape me.
Does ugly under rain become beautiful?
What I see in puddles doesn't hurt me,
but I still like to shatter them, see-through
pottery running on my legs and then I slip
until my jeans are soaked with everything but blood.
I am anything but simple.
Rain is anything but cleansing.
Faith is anywhere but here, where I need it most.
I lift my chin and sing to the sky that offers no
release and no recompense, hoarse
and battered, and interrupted as I am by the weather.
Because sometimes
picture-perfect doesn't fit me. Sometimes
drenched hoodies, sodden denim, pale
melancholy faces up-turned and
chains around my ankles rising
from the star-spattered dust like a phoenix
define my existence.
Looking in this mirror
Wondering who it is I see
The face looks familiar
But it doesn’t look like me
I’m at a loss for words to describe who is staring
I’d like to think it’s someone brave
Someone bright
Maybe someone daring
I don’t know who they are
But I feel connected somehow
Because we even share a scar on our left eyebrow
She wrinkles her nose when I do
And I wonder if her favorite color is also blue
Does she not get a fever with the flu?
And is it herself that she looks up to?
Does she prefer hoodies to jackets?
And Fall to Summer?
Is her favorite movie Spy?
Or is that also a lie?
Looking in this mirror
Wondering who it is I see
The face looks familiar
But it doesn’t look like me
I'm sat here wondering what you're doing tonight
Have we met before? Will we reconcile later on in life?
Are you a complete stranger who's yet to be in my sight?
This is a letter to my future wife
We're strangers at the moment, I don't know where you are right now
Are you happy or are you trying to turn your life around?
Are you loved up? If you are, I'm sorry that it's going to go wrong
But after the heartbreak and when you meet me, you'll see it was so you could meet the one
Do you have kids? Do you have them in your life plans?
It just means you'll have more experience to make me happy if you've had one night stands
I hope you'll laugh at my terrible jokes, Do you believe in Fate, Karma or destiny?
When you give your number out, do you sit wondering how long will it take him to message me?
Are you blonde or brunette? Do you dye your hair on a regular basis?
Do you prefer a chilled weekend, or to go out and get wasted?
Are you the type to steal hoodies off your man?
If you are, I'll make sure i'm stocked up by the time you land
I don't make promises I can't keep
But I'll always kiss your forehead before bed and hold you while we sleep
I'll always be there for you to call on
And I promise to remember anniversaries, if you're quiet when the football's on
I don't know if we've met before and are yet to get things right
I don't know when you'll walk into my life
When you read this, will you think it was something weird for me to write?
I hope you enjoyed my letter, future wife