Pedestals and Pesticides
Pedestals and pesticides/
So generous, your genocide!
Prejudice, and pestilance/
Automating your omniscience!
Ambivalence!
Ambulance!
They must stop or people will die.
They must stop, people will die.
They must stop! People will die!
poem by Les Wordsmore
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The Opposition?
Love never had made sense to me
Though never brought offense to me
Then knocked with vigor recently
Now developed the propensity
For loving with intensity
I've discovered this diversity
Was I meant to see?
Can it be?
Is love my true identity?
I laughed and she defended me
Am I my only enemy?
poem by Les Wordsmore
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The Few Chore
The future is here
I'll say it again
The future is here
Two thousand ten
Flying cars, time-warps
Food comes in pill-form
Robots n' teleports
Progress is still-born
The future came and went
I guess thats the past
The future is coming
I bet it won't last
The past is tomorrow
Or will be next week
Time's a mother****er
The future is bleak.
poem by Les Wordsmore
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We Are We
Well you are you and I am me
And we are free, my friend
Well I am here and you are here
The time is near, my friend
We are two and we are one
And one is all, my friend
Open your eyes, open your mind
And you'll have found, my friend
Its right ahead, its left behind
Its all around, my friend
Well we are we, and we will be
Until the end, my friends
And we are us, and we are dust
Come join the wind, my friends
We'll sing a song, we'll bang a gong
Pass it along, my friend
Come take a seat, take a stand
Join the band my friends.
poem by Les Wordsmore
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Sugar Coated Dreams
Imagine yourself in a magical place
With candy and goodies surrounding your face
With rivers of caramel and trees made of chocolate
You meet a kind truffle, he gives you a locket
You fly over mountains and hills made of dreams
Fly with your friends in your flying machines.
But don't go to the area darkened by storm
Its not very safe and the people aren't warm.
They're a not-so-good lot, they're often suspicious
Not like the first place, where its all so delicious
So stay close to the candy and don't stray too far
Ride to the movies on the candy trolley car
All of the kindhearted people you meet
Are throwing a party and saved you a seat.
The marshmallow meadow of purple and blue
Is Where the candy princess is waiting for you.
You'll dance to the music and all through the night
The floor's made of candy but don't take a bite.
And as your journey comes to a close
The scent of warm cookies climbs into your nose
[...] Read more
poem by Les Wordsmore
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I'd Love To Write A Love Poem For You
I'd love to write a poem for you
Want to make it good
I want it to be romantic
As you might think it should
You're a vision in my head
And I can't believe you're real
You attend the U of Sexuality
And got straight A's in sex appeal
You're as metaphorical as a simile.
And poetic like a rhyme.
I'd like to write a poem for you
Got some better ways to spend my time.
Like to hug you or to kiss you
or to give you a ride
To take you out to dinner
or to please you from inside.
Id like to write a poem for you
but I'd rather not instead
I love to drive you all around
While you are giving head.
[...] Read more
poem by Les Wordsmore
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Moment of Youth Mantra
I am superstition like a black cat walking over cracked pavement and discarded four-leaf clovers under a ladder. There's a hat on my bed, another thing gone missing from my head.
Like a Jackson Pollack in white-lined notebook pages my words splatter
As if it didn't matter if they rhymed.
Or if the sounds and measure don't measure up to the beat you wanted to march to in that other guys eardrums. I can see my self clearer through shards of broken mirror
cuz I collect bad karma and save it for a hot sunny day just to cool off and stop sweating the small stuff
i think i've had enough, but whats one more? Here's to a world on fire and a frozen core.
I'm bad luck like an opened umbrella in the living room, i'm just dying to see what happens.
I wouldn't mind a little curse like the black cat in the last verse because the last seven years really bored me, a torturous fortune may relieve me, or at least grasp my attention.
I'm thinkin Everlasting truth is pretty sweet like a gobstopper and everlasting youth is always fleeting and unattainable like a shared vision. but we can still at least share our dreams with other numbered sheep while they creep through your doors and come in like Morrison, articulate yet dissociative, shed the asterisks and we'll associate ourselves with youthful slang like pound signs and ampersands, and we might get pounded, but even if they have the guns we still have those numbers and we're taking over like my favorite song bleeding through the radio as im speeding by a cop at 90 miles an hour on a deserted road in a deserted town and he doesn't notice because i don't want to be seen right now
I just need to be heard
I am solitude like solitary confinement, confined to a prison of my mind
Undoubtedly uncertain about the underlying factors of my cathartic lethargy. and my endless energy when head hits pillow and lingering languor when the wandering soles of my shoes touch the earth. the sun embraces another full rotation with unwavering indifference to the new day. Alone in a crowd gathered to show solidarity I salute to the flag I can't stand for, but stand under, in solitude. Summoned by summer to become one unified under the setting sun bringing the day to a brilliant and bloody end behind open eyes and closed doors. doorbells of perception ringing freedom in our forefathers ears. hoping that the hand on the other side isn't clenched in a fist like that last time. but it wouldn't be the first time.
I am revolution like the sun in orbit, circling my brain like a vulture. my insides turned out but held together by the centrifugal motion of my mind, going around and coming back around like a law, like a revolving door, back to the start of the circle. that which has no beginning or end, no corners or splits along the path. I am revolution like a revolver, revolt for the cause not against the stigma of standing stagnant, not against myself but with myself, for myself, not by myself but by my side, and by my brothers side do i spark revolution. revolting like a open wound my blood has been shed on my front step, the front lines lie in my front yard, my world is under siege and my rebel brothers and sisters await the resolution of evolution beyond revolution and absolution, and my constitution is strong, my will will endure. our will must endure.
I am youth, I am ideals at a time when the mind first develops the ability to develop ideals.
Every song speaks directly to me, about me. Every poem, every line invokes thoughts, promotes the ideals i have become. The worthy and unworthy. the meek shall inherit the mire man made, multiplied by multiplex motifs. moved by momentary matters, mindful of mundane madness. Marinated in the muck and molasses of monotonous malaise. Martyrs of mothers' misguided masochism. mirror images of moments past. Many miss the mark, misrepresented and misunderstood. Myopia materializes memories of mistakes made on mystic Monday mornings, malnourished and mutilated. Motivated by motionless morbidity. Moved by mortality, maneuvered and made moot. Passed over individually by those seeking to maintain the masses. Misinformed by massive media moguls and micromanaging missionaries. A myriad of mighty militant misfits, a million minutemen march on Metropolis. Masters of the meek must abdicate the authority, yield to the majority. I am multitudes of metaphors like a simile smiling smelling of sensimillia. Forgone conclusions, forgotten solutions, chosen paths laid by best intentions yet preventing invention, intervening introspection. Limitless options reduce limitations, increase expectations, subdue elevation. I am youth, thoughtful and distraught, spritely and tender, fearless and flag-less, no will to surrender.
poem by Les Wordsmore
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