Best Sharpie Poems
Light minded people say I’m an uppity darkie
They color me bad,
with a black face, felt pen Sharpie
Vanilla voices downright don’t like
the audio sounds of this mouthy darkie
They say I’m way too uppity,
don’t know what my proper place be
Snow cone hats say they gon have to teach me,
there's a painful cost for thinking free
They wanna call the fascist calvary and give me
some old-fashioned triple Kord rope justice,
by them good ole boys neo-Nazi vigilantes
They say my strait Nazarene speech
borders on treason,
that it needs to be muzzled
But I’ve always given king Pharaoh Caesar
his required slave taxes —
His printed paperweight metallic tribute ...
so what’s the dispute?
My Herodian enemies want so bad
to reach into their torture trick bag,
and gag my mouth with a gasoline soaked rag
Then lie in wait for my muffled words
to set that tri-colored cloth on fire
Red cheek coconut meat,
dressed in blue uniforms pressed neat,
wanna beat, kick, pound
some patriotic sense into me
Giving thinly veiled warnings:
saying ship that ghetto talk back to Africa
Carting rice-colored evil thoughts
that are Balaam Iscariot store bought
Walking weeds in the Goshen grassroots,
wearing bloodstained slaughterhouse coats,
got indigo disdain for this uppity darkie
They wanna sell some
strange rotting fruit hanging from a tree
Hating me because I stood up
in the open free market place
And declared with Lion of Judah boldness,
they were selling the people rancid red meat lies
wrapped in waxy white packages
And giving State-Don’t-Care samples away
of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer bottles of hate
I ain’t nothing but a pseudo-smart, intellectual wannabe
It’s what my rabbit ears detractors say ...
yeah, that’s how they regard me
As just another trouble making uppity darkie
Categories:
sharpie, allusion, prejudice, racism, truth,
Form:
Bio
"in a tipsy frame of mind"
my pen point was swirling and twirling to be
on a romantic adventure so fun and fancy free
with a tipsy turn here and with savoir faire' there
escaping to the Poetry Palace swimming for a "pen-mate" mare.
lo! and behold! being drunk with emotion
my pen jumped a dive in word-infested ocean
it rolled and it stretched; back strokes, as it fetched
on it's clip, hung by hook, the word "love" was etched.
my pen was so excited as another invited
in a drunken stupor, would love be unrequited?
as the black and gold form grew all toasty and warm
came face to face as a SHARPIE did swarm.
the moral is simple: when the love bug soon soars
beware! of the SHARPIE whose inks bolder than yours!
*For Joann Grisetti's Drunken Pen 2 ...
Categories:
sharpie, funny, love,
Form:
Light Verse
At some point you are going to need to impress more than a few friends with some burnt toast. I used to have an old, heavy-gauge chrome-plated toaster with a dial to adjust doneness from 1-5. I took a Sharpie and scribed a 6 at the extreme. The pointer doesn’t actually go there, but it is useful for indicating my intent. It works better than the 5 setting which merely chars the surface. But 6 chars it darn near all the way through, enlarging the pore structure to retain even more melted butter. You gotta be cautious not to overuse that feature because it’ll burn the toaster, as in overheating the thermostat and melting the whispy wires. No more toast for you. Back at the store they were quick to figure out your attempt to exceed the capacity and the clearly worded statement in the ownership contract will be pointed out to you, that glamorous document with the curly-Q decorations making it supremely authentic like a stock certificate from the 1960’s. They replaced my toaster once, but the second and third times I only got a stern look of reproach. The manufacturer has black listed me through my credit card so now all my toaster purchases are cash only.
Categories:
sharpie, food,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Mr. Wiggles the stuffed “punk pig” , he wasn’t always this way. Before the safety pins in his little nose and “Dead Kennedy’s” patch on his soft, fuzzy, pink back, he was a loving, clean, attractive piggy who was afraid of the dark. He sewed black and red string into his adorable little ear because he thought it would make him look like a rebel pig, then he got experimental with sharpie, permanently drawing stitches on his non-existing lips all because of the music he flooded into his head. Then after the piercings, he got into tattoos. He has a black and red “C” on his chest and a black dotted “C” with a little black heart on his hip. It’s pretty sexy huh? He got it for someone but that someone loved another. He has big, child like eyes that can mesmerize you. They aren’t blue or green or even brown, They are black eyes that just stare deeply into you. He is also very small, not like the other kids. He used to get beat up when he was a little piglet, Maybe that’s why he tries to be all tough now. He’s a bubble gum pink, maybe that was a factor in him getting beat up by all the other farm animals so much. He had low self esteem and a eating disorder, that's why he is so skinny for a grown man piggy. He hated the way he looked, he was ashamed for being born a pig because they have such bad reputations of being dirty, sloppy, and lazy. He didn't like his feet most of all because they were ugly and gross, pig feet are the definition of this but his are abnormal they were disfigured and very, very pink, not like the other animals with smooth hooves or webbed feets. His are piggies feet that no one will end up ever eating. They look like something Ariel would collect under the sea. Mr. Wiggles wasn’t always a bad piggy, under his thick, fuzzy skin he is soft and plushy pig. One thing that never changed is that he loves affection such as hugs, they are comforting and secure. He smells like a warm breeze and something sugary. He may act tough but there is much, much more then meets the eye.
Categories:
sharpie, animals, fantasy, funny, tribute,
Form:
Epic
the pale blue sharpie
lies open upon the floor ...
blue tongued chihuahua
Categories:
sharpie, pets,
Form:
Haiku
The echidna and the platypus were friends.
They both had a teeny tiny secret, one and the other.
The sweet platypus had venom on his ends.
He was told to keep this hidden by his mother.
The short-nosed echidna could lay eggs as well as a wren.
She was told to keep this under wraps, by her brother.
Their love for eating worms and insects made them friends.
That was something they could talk about with each other.
Echidna’s spikes were dangerous on the ends.
Most certainly out in the open, not hidden from platypus.
Platypus’s five sharpie claws helped make them friends.
He could dig insects up for his mate, Echidna, without fuss.
The platypus’s venom reveal might have meant no friendship,
He retained this secret; he kept it under lock and key.
Echidna’s secret would have given them another reason for kinship,
If she had discovered that Platypus can lay eggs like me.
Categories:
sharpie, 2nd grade, 3rd grade,
Form:
Rhyme
I am from day old make up, from hand me down clothes and sharpie covered arms.
I am from a dirt filled well and barefoot on gravel
I am from black and brown caterpillars to the landlord’s koi pond with orange and silver creatures nibbling on my toes
I am from unwanted yearly get togethers and harsh words and tears, from Tia and Lisa to uncle Ricky and the kids who are unfortunate enough to understand
I am from stuberness and bitterness with flashes of extreme bipolar
From “never letting down your walls” to “men are not to be trusted”
Well I have news, I didn't listen
I am from the trees, the water, the earth, the wind and the sun. I am from everything and will come back again and again, something new but always ignored
I am from Portland, land of addicts and freaks
Ramen noodles and sugar-less kool aid to grandma’s boiled over salted chicken with bisquick mushy dumplings
From the uncle who’s afraid to get close, the mom who is now finally trying to connect but will never be able to fix the static of our relationship to the aunt who does nothing but drown her problems with a bottle of whatever is on sale
I am from nowhere for I have been everywhere. the everywhere is nowhere. Home has never been a word used much, theres only rest stops
Sheds. trailers, friends beds and couches to the ground.
Life goes up and down, so I am from the waves of living, from doubt and open arms, from hands to hands, hiding in cracks.
I am from here.
Categories:
sharpie, angst, art, history, life,
Form:
Epic
With lots of socks that look alike,
It’s hard to make a pair.
To try to find the perfect match,
You need some time to spare.
My husband solved the problem, though,
His gym socks the intention,
Which proves that yes, necessity’s
The mother of invention.
On every sock, he made a mark –
First A, then B, then C;
The mate received a matching letter,
Alphabetically.
A Sharpie was his tool of choice
To keep the letters bright
In contrast to his many socks
In varied shades of white.
So from the dryer, out they pour,
Each waiting for its mate,
Which now is found so easily,
No question or debate.
It’s quite a shrewd solution
Though I think it’s also plain
That a plan like this would never come
From any woman’s brain!
Categories:
sharpie, clothes, men,
Form:
Rhyme
If they'd told me I'd fall for you
I'd have offered them the number
To the local psych ward -
After a sufficient Google search
To ensure they received
The proper care they'd need.
If they'd said to me,
"One day you'll look up,
And realize he's the one."
I'd have raised an eyebrow,
Pulled a thermometer from
Some poor unfortunate souls ass
And checked them for a fever.
If they'd look from me to you
And smirked like they knew something
That I didn't,
I'd have grabbed the largest sharpie
I could find in the vicinity,
And draw a *****
Directly in the center of their forehead
While they were sleeping.
If they'd told me,
"I know you don't believe in it,
But you'll come to love him."
I'd have -
Well. To be completely honest,
I'd have probably laughed in their faces,
And said something none too pleasant.
Probably would have received glares
From nearby parents.
If they'd warned me,
I wouldn't have listened.
Would have denied it
All the way to the local horse races,
Where I would have bid on the underdog,
That had never won a race -
Just to prove to myself,
That things that can't happen,
Won't happen.
But knowing my luck,
If I'd done that,
That damn horse would've won.
Sadly, if they'd said anything,
Things would end up exactly as they did.
Only the Google search
Isn't for them.
It'd be for me.
I'm still convinced this whole thing,
Where I'm feeling something
Specifically a thing for you,
Is a symptom of mental disorder.
And I'm the one with the fever.
But if I go to the doctor,
It'd just be a freaking case
Of loving you.
And that bill would just be
Another heaping disappointment
On this cake of misguided love.
I'd still draw a ***** on someone's face.
But I don't have a key to your place.
You'd better be happy buster,
Because I draw a great dick.
And you'd never get rid of it.
If they'd told me that I'd love you,
I wouldn't have listened,
But at least I wouldn't have been
Blindsided when it happened.
Categories:
sharpie, humor, love,
Form:
Free verse
expositions, preminitions
dry-erasers falling from the sky.
but I've got a chalkboard for a
raincoat and a half dozen reasons
to change my expression.
synthetic saliva in some neon colored
sharpie highlighters.
misplaced emphasis in shades of
bright yellow..
verbs and pronouns ask all the questions,
to vulgar to be put into print..
once an epileptic discourse unraveled and convulsed
beautifully off of my tongue.
sitting in the corner shaking violently
at the wrist. slumping at a computer
writing poetry with a pocket full of
felt tipped markers.
watching the clock turn slowly
at night shift in a breakroom.
stealing away to heaven in a fit
under the hum of some ballis
lights.
Categories:
sharpie, allegory,
Form:
Blank verse
Not I, not me, uh uh, not true,
I own no Sharpies in black nor blue,
I’m sure I’m right, the chart was clear,
Dorian’s path to Alabama’s near.
The media cries I made it up,
I drew the lines right on the map;
How dare they say such lies so mean,
My words are gold, my conscience clean.
These folks do whine, they rant and rave,
To score some points they sorely crave,
Yet all they do time and again,
So well reminds of a cackling hen.
If there’s an expert that’s so me,
No-one quite sees the things I see,
Wind direction that’s my hat,
Great golfers know precisely that.
And if the storm went up the coast,
That too should earn me one loud toast,
I channeled prayers from all around,
To have it miss that Rebel ground.
The South’s my turf, I like those folks,
A land of dreamers full of hopes,
I have their vote, undying love,
Hence why I gave this thing a shove.
Towards New York, that den of thieves,
Spreading untruths like falling leaves,
Let them delight in Natures wrath,
Rewarding me with one great laugh.
Categories:
sharpie, allegory, humor, natural disasters,
Form:
Rhyme
Love
Is the hardest thing in life
Love
Is a Sharpie
Because it's there forever
Even when we die
It remains in our hearts
And in our minds
Love
Is a tear
Because when you waste your tears
On unfaithful guys
They start to come out of your eyes
And your heart
I don't know when these feelings had start
But I write from my heart
Love
Is pain
joy
happiness
tears
agony
smiles
And part of us
Love
Is undiscribible
It's a word that we'll never know
Love
Is a mystery
A story to be unfolded
A tale to tell
A heart to break
A coin to be thrown into a well
Love
Is part of waiting
for the right guy
for the perfect moment
for the bluest sky
for the end of time
Love is us
Amazing
Brilliant
Diffrent
And a mystery
Love
isn't just you and me
It's all of us
Love is everything
Categories:
sharpie, love, romance,
Form:
I draw my smiles with Sharpie
And avoid hand sanitizer.
Its bitter taste-
Cleansing-
Healing-
Burns the facade I’ve built.
I’ve painted my confidence
Across the boarded windows of my body.
I wear my sensuality
Like the makeup smeared on my cheeks:
As armor.
The sun’s shadow masks my flaws
But as you turn out the lights
You find them all again
With the sweep of your fingertips.
12/6/17
Categories:
sharpie, angst, anxiety, boyfriend, depression,
Form:
Free verse
Who's the one you hate, With all your heart
Want to see Him/Her Drop dead? Would you give your soul?
Anynight, 12:00 to 3:00 A.M., Consult your demons...
On paper w/ Red Sharpie draw a pentagon, leaev a smoke trail.
Want to kill an Enemy would you sell your soul?
Gather Negitive Energy, Gather the Forgotten Horrors
Simple direction, Just restate the resurection
Pray your hardest, mean it deeply and true...
"Oh Satan My Lord, Please destroy my soul....
Destroy any and any chance of light from my life!"
Repeat if nessasary... Pray your leigon hard and true....
Keep your head down, Ignore the crashing, Don't Look in the Mirror.
His Voice is strong, but don't be scared....
Don't look in the mirror, Disrespect isn't taken kindly..
Would you destroy your soul, TO Destroy an Enemy?
Say the name of the victim six times, after the "events" happen/
Remember, Respect, Dont look into the mirrors...
Categories:
sharpie, history
Form:
orwell’s moustache: PART I
the father of big brother
whose face can be found on the cover of
animal farm or nineteen eighty-four,
his two most popular literary achievements---
he stares back at us with a moustache---
a pencil moustache that seems to be grown
thicker than a No. 2,
so, maybe we could call it a magic marker moustache
or perhaps a Sharpie moustache---
regardless, a man has to wonder what inspires other men,
most importantly,
geniuses of an age,
to sport these little rats upon their lip.
orwell must have always looked to his relatives
on the occasion of any gathering
to be constantly holding his upper lip inside his mouth
as if anxious to say something or
conversely,
wanting to keep quiet (so much so that he needed to
button it).
and though he has not been remembered for his choice in
facial hair aesthetics,
one cannot deny that the impulse to grow a little rat on the
face hasn’t ceased as the years have passed---
still amidst the men on the streets,
the chevrons move to & fro as the wind blows, the
fu manchus decorate fight clubs across the nation, the
lampshades & walruses & painter’s brushes all can be
excused for keeping some men warm during cold months,
but not many don the toothbrush anymore,
since a certain german homicidal maniac drove it out of
style
round the middle of the last century.
all these men don’t find the maintenance of a moustache to be
a problem---for if they were just lazy, letting the beard go like
the rest of us,
then they’d be able to say that they just didn’t get around to it---
but the fact remains, there are men
who make the effort to shave round that thin thin line that
traces the jaw, extending from the sideburns to the
chin (like the fat guy from smash mouth)---
and whether they are trying to attract a woman or a man,
they are making a statement to us all---
that there is something to be said for leaving a little rat
on one’s face.
Categories:
sharpie, life, men, men,
Form:
Free verse