Long Butt Poems
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He was not green not green at all
Trim and slim he was rather tall
His skin was more of a reddish-brown
His hair was pitch black with a pointed crown
Pleasant enough of a fellow I suppose
We notice each foot had just three toes
His hands were large and his fingers long
He was nice and pleasing but just did not belong
His voice was high pitch but sounded soft
The dust in the air made him sneeze and cough
His body seemed smooth no hair on sight
He enjoyed the shade and avoided direct sunlight
Large oval emerald embers of purest sight
His eyes had transparent lenses that for him seem right
If he looked at you and blinked his lens then eyes
You stood staring back hypnotize strangely paralyzed
His stomach was flat with the belly button gone
To us earth kids that was just plain wrong
His legs were long and skinny and seem to shine
We thought his skin secreted a secret slim
He was nice enough and always learned fast
Academically he surged to the head of the class
He excelled in computers science and math
When he smiled the girls blushed the boys laughed
He tried to be friendly but would not play outside
His tiny nose always in a book he became ostracize
Always helping teachers he became their favorite pet
When we saw his tail he was dubbed Martian Rat
His ears were almost nonexistent but hearing keen
He heard our thoughts he knew everything
We plotted to get him outside and whip his butt
But he knew our every move so we finally gave up
Slowly but surely we all came around
And he became the most popular boy in town
He told tales of heroes slaying dragons of Mars
He told journeys and dreams beyond the stars
He never liked winter hated the snow
The poor boy just really couldn't handle the cold
Summers and falls to him seem all right
Spring with thunder storms gave him the fright
He was the first boy amongst us to kiss a girl
Hot Holly by golly gave him a whirl
We all played indoors to be by his side
The feelings of yesterday we all denied
Than just like that Yarn was gone
His family went back to were they belong
We felt betrayed and misunderstood
We lost a friend and did the best we could
Late at night a group of us looked up to the sky
Was Yarn looking down to us from way up high?
Worlds apart but we become close yet he left so far
We miss our friend two big hearts within the boy from Mars
Have You Tried My Slushie? By
Briar Rabbit
I don’t know if it brings the boys to the
yard
I’d want some time to myself
I think..
I think of angel dust
while
liberty belles call my name
cement and concrete as I leave the shrink
i am bowed down some
staring at my shoes
as I walk to my stop
I take PM dawn pills
For Purples edge,
Irony, I know
It’s bubble and burble
And bubble and grape flavor in my mouth
Chewy fat chunk of life’s worth
Like Nicki sticks to a wad
I chew it
It’s imprinted
Yummy and pink bubbles
Imprinted on the wrapper
Wrapper
Rapper
I like smoking
Smoking
Puro
Cheap menthol lights
The Inhale and the burn of the
Humo
In my nose
On the top and to the sides of my lungs
Smoking
Puro
I’ve become a Whiz Kid @ this
And I learned to become
a cowboy kid cigarette
aficionado
I watch my toes
Shoe gaze
Blow some smoke
Through my mouth and my nose
And then I breathe
I am a
Smoke Tamer
It’s purple-blue, tinged grey
Curls in form only real Wizards
Can create – Dragons, Curly cues,
and ring after ring after ring
When I’ve had my high , I pinch my cherry
Roll it between my fingers and test the
edge
Of this proto-promethean glory
Index to thumb
My butt at ease
And my feet alive
I pet a bug
Or an ambitious spider
Cupping my hands I put her back
in the bush. Apologizing
after letting her explore my fingertips
my hands, my wrist, my arm
to my elbow and then I let her know, no
gently
I cry a little inside when i do, because
she’s
curious and seeking comfort in some
shade
like I do.
Our feelings I think are
mutual
I am still..
Sticking with Fabolous
My slushie named orange and blue
Half to three quarters gone
I’m sippin it and three a party in
My pants, no ********, a wow in my
Mouth, and a brain freeze.
The brain freeze gives me a *****
Seriously.
I’m serious.
I cross my legs, lift up my hood
Arrange two rings and a cross
Pick at the crud under
My nails, maybe I should
Pull down my shades
Arrange my pant legs
Again.
Slurp my slushie.
Brain freeze and I’m turned on
again
I blush and pull down my hood
I’m still sitting at the bus shelter
I light another one,
My smoking curls,
Curling
curly-curly
curly ques..
MY smoke curls
MY smoke curls
it's Fashion Week in New York City and the people just can't wait
to see the lastest trends that the designers will demonstrate
to all the fashionistas with their obssession to impress
tis the season to be a woman of style in the way that you dress
for true fashion is about representing one's identity by the clothing one wears
but fashion is fickle and it's a crazy and unpredictable world out there
one day you may be in and the next day you may be out
but if your wearing the garments of God your fashion style is never in doubt
celebrity endorsements, designer labels and someone's logo on your butt cheeks
there's nothing wrong with the external facade but it's the internal you need to seek
you've been baptized and now you are a new creation in Christ
wearing Divine Designer garments to go with your new life
you have been stripped of the old way of dressing
now wearing the virtues of God in a way most impressing
high fashion from that Universal Designer known as Our Lord God
wearing His Divine creations to go with your brand new heart
Patience is now the pantyhose where your divine foundation starts
Compassion is now that delicate silk blouse worn over your heart
Kindness displayed like a heavenly pair of shoes upon your feet
Humility is now that stylish hat that makes your outfit complete
Forgiveness worn like a precious and expensive pair of gloves
and last but not least that glorious overcoat that God calls love
dressed in Divine Designer garments from the inside out
dressed for success with a stylish spiritual clout
you don't need a Louis Vitton sash around your waist
if you have the Belt of Truth cinched firmly in place
you won't need a Ralph Lauren chemise to cover your back
as the Breastplate of Righteousness will protect from any and all attacks
you don't need a pair of Jimmy Choos stiletto high heels
as the Readiness of the Gospel of Peace is a much better deal
you don't require a Prada handbag just to show you're with it
if you have in your hand the Biblical Sword of the Spirit
and it's not necessary to put on Ban de Soleil
as the Shield of Faith will cover you each and every day
and you don't need a Kate Spade hat upon your head
as the Helmet of Salvation will have you spirit led
dressed from the inside out now totally and spiritually clad
dressed in the virtues of God, the finest garments to be had
not in the heart again
for chrissakes it's like Swiss cheese
decoffinated please I'm a yet ambulatory zombie
off his medication as usual
alternatives to logic 101 with Prof. Spike
far too much work for a dead end
saw his only ally the embalmers needle
left his innards spilled in the sand
history in its entirety mocked his comprehension
had the nation in tears and then nausea
several dueling scars graced his genitals
if our perceptions already lie
why shouldn't we
I had to laugh
it was all I could do to keep from smiling
even after a thousand years of AI research
the electronic government was helpless
my Microsoft forehead radiator
absolutely charmingly couldn't get any focus
but the Royal Society of Blind Philosophers
helped me with my little problem
a miracle of recipe repair
because our endorphin soup is a bit thin
the quicksilver cooks ate first and fell asleep
having thrown away their brains long before
in the field kitchen of the gods
after the air raid sirens of postmodernity
can there be too much truth
for an army of blood diamond merchants
now a bit more about para electrics
if only I were at liberty to discuss it
yes imprecision can carry signal
but the place is crawling with dilettantes
wearing their secret butt plugs
it's a guessing game as you can see
petitioning for a visually diagrammatic idiom
although it's a devilish seesaw but let us restart
The Oblivion Ride was the big theme park attraction
my extended family was in the sideshow
justifiably taken for a pack of fools
then the sun went down and never came up again
and we stepped into the stone circle
chanting evidence is preferable
to the moonlit tombstone
good luck with that in your airwaves
broadcast on radio Sarajevo
signal drifting drifting drifting
with minds great and small
and smaller and smaller
the Internet is the yearned for Messiah
there it's done and out and not to be unseen
you wrestle with it while I proceed
dashing among startled commuters
mesmerizing the fact finding committee
their dictatorship of x-ray leeches
tossed him out of several monasteries
apparently the production quotas were relaxed
in a kaleidoscope of normalcy
the style crazed mannerist martinets
howdy do nail in my shoe
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
There is a violent war that’s not in movies.
These soldiers we lost are not seen on TVs.
Friendly fire is the biggest killer of our men.
Per soldier lost at war, at home we lost over 10.
People know of PTSD and shell shock.
But the effects must be taken stock.
We civilians don’t know what they go through.
As their mission ended with nothing left to do.
The training and survival skills do not go away.
The paranoia and fear are in the brain to stay.
Losing purpose and absent structure remain.
Leads to wild thoughts some feel are insane.
To help this issue we learn to band together.
Soldiers and civilians become of one feather.
The group is created to address the mess.
Allowing soldiers a place free to confess.
By linking all our bodies, souls and mind,
We continue the motto No Man Left Behind.
Put your feet on the ground and breathe deep.
Go up and down, quieting thoughts to a peep.
Fully balance out your body from head to toe.
Watch the changes as you reap what you sow.
Feel your body tremble working through pain.
Doing rep after rep, finding a pace to sustain.
Logging the numbers to account for the grind.
Crushing the haters you’re leaving behind.
Both internal and out keep their mouth shut.
Knock out a set and they can kiss your butt.
Suicide may have previously won the battle.
But Americans are not Grim Reaper’s cattle.
We’ve banded together to win this fight.
Saving lives at home is what’s in sight.
Whether you do many thousands or just two.
The squats can straighten out a mind screw.
Forcing the blood through our bodies quick.
Turning soft legs into muscle hard and thick.
Forging our glutes into newfound rocks.
Quieting the mental voice that mocks.
Demons can pucker and kiss our rock butts.
Squat therapy can prevent deep wrist cuts.
Connecting with distant suicide fighters.
Illuminating the dark room with lighters.
Helping one other on our physical journey.
Carrying the fallen on a virtual gurney.
The strong reach out and will carry the weak.
Forging us forward on the challenge we seek.
Some days disappoint and others we surprise.
But the goal of what we do is to open the eyes.
The experience I’m discussing is Mission 22.
It’s been an honor to share the ride with you.
So although we will approach the 2,200 soon.
The best is yet to come for us, so stay in tune!
PROLOGUE
Biographies are for men who have a need to cry
To spell out what we remember is to subtract all
We forget, for knowing then nothing knew, a lie
Conjured by history, there's no a priori here at all
If you will not abuse my love
I will dive for you deeper forgotten things, bring
Up from bottom hate to prove
To be a better god we gladly, boldly took the sting
And could not have merely comprehended joy until
Our serpent made the safe-God to repent of his will
Here is my life strands of sands upon your windy palm
I'm the syllables of every gospel, beginning at the Psalm
Proverbs skinned like rice from the shaft, seeking balm.
History immaculate pristine in no myth ever shall sleep
Introspection vigils struggle between words and memory
Philosophy is a dream, not I, who numbers days urgently,
The sleeping dog will sleep, but my promise let me keep.
i
IDENTITY
I do not even know how it began, night or day
Rain or shine - nor what season they had interplay
I only know that nine must have been too long since
I overstayed my time and made her grimaced, grunt
And groaned to push me out. So of course, I wince
Privy to so much uncertainty. I have a given month
A date, but what is time alone for anyone's beginning
I want to remember the pool I paddled in the flesh
The long rope that called my navel a primal mouth
The red tide of mud from her veins which so much clout
I was hooked on it, around the perimeter where I thresh
So much more can come from a real truth of beginning.
I mean, how comes we have no control over our beginning
And you expect me in the middle to give you meaning
I will not buy the lie, I choose allegiance but know not how
The end shall fufill its promises of me. The air burns still
Like an acrid vapor on the lungs, and not yet I shall spill
The anger from the fumes of air, nor low ever can I bow
Before the hand that slapped my butt and told me scream.
You say indecent, I say unjust, for he proved no love so
Soon nor knew of me any wrong. The conspirators team
Around a common cause: a man must cry so they know
He has life; my kicking legs were not enough. The water
Suddenly left me swaddled in air and just a little laughter.
I do not take kindly to being whipped, nor did I protest then
About my eviction, and the sudden weight of many things.
I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,
I have heard the tales of horror, from my dark skinned foes.
I have heard the tales of terror, from others who became my friends.
And I have walked with a dark skinned woman of their tribe.
We walked in the beauty of her courage, together. Tearless.
Tearless we both were as she spoke, for tears, only gods could cry for her.
I am a Red Skin dog.
And yet we walked together and we talked – together, fearless,
I and this swaying ebony sapling, sprung from the roots of my foes tribe.
We talked of the pitiless reality of that life she left behind, of that time
That she has left, far, far behind, like a useless scar
That has toughened over. And made her stronger.
I learned from this daughter of my foes
That true courage is never fearless, but always stronger. Victorious,
Stronger she was by far, to this Red Skin dog
Than the thousand sons who died, in her honor. So they say. Ridiculous,
But I have heard the balance of their sins.
And for all the tales I have heard from those angry young men, and their vengeful fathers
Her horror was a thousand times more sinister. A thousand times more callous.
Horror took up residence in her home but never in her heart.
But for others, I cannot speak.
“…splinters and bursting fragments…in my mind
Ai! Tearing! Memory of tearing flesh, swallowing tears and mucus, blood and bile
…bruising and ripping garments…off my body
…filthy, familiar hands tearing at my dress…
…my legs split and broken like a wild pig slaughter, my screams smashed from my lips,
With the butt of a rifle, just used to kill a Red Skin dog…
Aieee! Clean this floor mama, mop up this spew!
It cannot be mine!
This child is not mine!
It is not mine! It is the devils own creation born in hell fire!
Born in my death!
Aieee! I am dead, I cannot be alive.
I am dead and the Red Skin dogs have eaten my corpse.
Those spirits in their wingless chariot flew over the land and sea, to rescue me?
Rescue me from that black devil who said he was like Jesus to me.
I thought you were my uncle-brother…
Who else could have found us here?
Hidden away from the Red Skins and their Wingless Angels.
Only you my uncle-brother
Only you could have found us
Only you could have killed us.
And now the progeny of your evil deed suckles at my breasts
As I lie dead in the home of those Red Skin dogs you fought.”
one winter night,
I guess about 2 years ago
in my old unheated home,
which I have since sadly left,
I must tell you a remarkable story
about an attempted theft
about 4 or so in the morning
I was upstairs in my bedroom
reading in bed, in but my underpants
insomnia a plague, but what was to happen soon
might make the faint hearted swoon
suddenly I heard a crash
and shattered glass
the whole house shook
I thought, oh, now here we go...
whoever it was,he
must be a real big a_s
I figured it was a crook
and for me that's all it took
anger and rage engulfed me
and I felt my pressure rise
I can just imagine what you would'a seen
then, were you to see my eyes!
I jumped up out of bed
and in only underpants
started loudly to rage,
you should'a heard my rants!!
I was crazed with boiling anger
how dare they invade my home!
I'll kick some butt tonight
just give me half a second,
they'll see me really fight!
down the stairs I raced
screaming like a banshee
it must'a been a sight
too bad you didn't see
well I guess they had second thoughts
about dealing with one so mad
they took there change to run
only choice they really hadI got
see this was a drug infested
ethnic 'hood,
need I say any more?
but even so i was surprised
that they would break my door
so I patched up the door
as best as i could do
but sure feeling less secure
and you know that must be true
well in but just one more week
they tried it once again
what kind of jerks are they?
these drug crazed criminal men?
this time again I was reading
as I am known to do
but still in just my shorts
I guess you wonder who
how stupid are these skuzz-butts,
these turkey hare brained fools?
and what inbred from what
must be
their inferior genetic pools
this time I called the cops,
and soon enough they came
again about 5 am
but one thing not the same
across the street was standing
some weird looking guy
he watched with great interest
you could see it in his eye
the cops began to question him
as i sat upon my porch
for about 20 minutes
my body heat began to scorch
the cops they even yelled
at me to shut my mouth
these young rookie cops I guess
would be better off down south
I sat in undershorts,
the sun would soon arise
I wondered what was going on
and much to my surprise
continued
Sonny sat on the floor
in a low lit corner of the bedroom
he hugged his trumpet
as a young man they had had great times
he reminisced of his love for his horn
He was unable to play it well now
not since his stroke nine years ago
had stolen away his embouchure
and destroyed his ability to sustain the notes in tune
He tried to play his horn but too often
the notes sounded like screeches from hell
he recalled his glory years in high school
where he shone like a star
He received two gold medals playing Rafael Mendez’
arrangement of the “Mendelssohn Concerto”
he was 17 years old and felt the future was his
but he was 80 now
and still lugged his old recycled memories,
never realizing he and the world would get old
too soon
Nostalgia, the bane of old folks
was Sonny's saving grace
As a young man he achieved the goals he set
no matter how insignificant they might have seemed
And the feeling of those supreme achievements never tarnished
those moments of struggle made his life meaningful
soon enough the time came to hit the big time
but the big time was not so welcoming
There are those who come into this world
full of aspirations but never get blessed by the hand of God
no matter how great their desire,
then there are the fortunate ones who are born cupped in God's hands
and are given the privilege to reveal the music of the spheres
It was Sonny’s 70th birthday when he had his stroke
he cursed the abomination that had befallen him
though the stroke marred his old age
marvelous blessings did happen to him
At age 24, Sonny fell in love, married a beautiful Irish woman,
had two adorable kids, later to be a pain in his butt
but the kids are married and gone now
and all's well in Sonny Land
Sonny and his wife are still married, going on 60 years
one could say theirs was a union made in God's cupped hands.
An added piece to this story:
Sonny's son had two marriages, one successful one not so
and several business ventures but he was lucky, he gloats with pride
because as glitchy as his life had been he had become rich
"Some guys have all the luck, huh Dad," he said.
Sonny replied, "If that be the case, son, so be it,
Our longevity has made our love real, but we're happy for you,
you have the money but we have real love.
I remember way back when I was real young, my brother and I used to have adventures
and we wouldn't even leave the house.
Games full of hide and seek and afternoon cartoons.
We were two peas in a pod like twins at least that's how we bonded.
All the neighborhood kids loved us, were addicted to our energy.
It wasn't until we grew up a little that I started to notice the difference
between us.
I was light as day, he was dark as night.
Same father same mother just out mind sets were different.
I got treated like a white girl even though I was full of soul.
I begged for his darkness because I was naive.
To him it didn't matter.
He belonged to our family no matter the difference in color.
I would stand by him just so people would see that I was black.
Even though I knew every song, I knew how to dress, and shake just like a video
girl some of the ignorant still just couldn't except that I was one of them.
I got teased and beat because I had brown colored hair that fell down my back like
long silk.
My skin so light eye shadow wouldn't show when I put it on. I would stare in the
mirror and wish for a darker complexion.
But this was me, I lived a few blocks from the projects, a beautiful neighborhood
with lots of houses we were upper class but still knew the struggle.
A few gun shots here and there but my block was like the suburbs compared to them
mean streets that I had never crossed.
But I went to school right in the project area, you turned a corner and you were
right in the middle of it.
I've seen many fights, weed smelling bathrooms, girls bringing knives
to school, alcohol in the cafeteria milk.
I experienced it all right with them. I even had an temper that got my butt
kicked sometimes.
But it was always the same comment you can't be black, maybe Hispanic but not black.
I would always wonder why, just because I was light to me this made no sense in the
world.
But I've grown up now and it doesn't bother me anymore because I love my curves and I
know that there are different shades of black in the world.
Especially since now a dayslight skinned girls are the new trend.
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