The Commodore: Poetry

Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

cocked

a cocked neck
to
the left allowing for a
more than careless
whisper to deliver a quip
designed to locate sexual
interest.

it was familar.
it was me.
she....

wiggles

And she got messy.
let her hair down
and washed away usual
with a few cute hip
wiggles
she knew max couldn't
resist.

this City
When bars all had shitty 19" TVs with rabbit ears
And that trashy brunette
couldn't escape into a text message.

this city once had that
now the philosopher king sits
waiting for reason to take her
place.

9/29/08

I stay up 'til Seven
Go to Sleep at One
Struggle to keep my eyes open,
and feel like a bum.

I drink bristol creme
and It tastes too sugary sweet,
but its all I can afford
to give solace a treat.

Civilizations Inferno

A man burns in civilizations inferno, flailing about for an exit.

It starts in the pit of his cerebral cortex and spreads as unfulfilled neurons turn upon one another.

The doe faced stare of satiated masses give a programmed smirk and Stay Tuned for These Messages.

He glowers underneath cape and cowl and skitters away, too incredulous to give reason to his words.

He coughs up chunks of logic that pool from his mouth in a kaleidoscope of premonitions that people should know--

But are too repulsed to notice.

- The Commodore